I panicked, flailing my arms as I could no longer breathe. She squeezed even harder, causing my temples to nearly explode. She flung her bra aside and her hand came down, HARD, across my face with a loud smack. “ANSWER ME!” she commanded.
I babbled, “I’m so so sorry, B-B-Kyra honey, it w-was an accident, I …” my voice trailed off as I began to cry.
“Accident, my ass.” She choked me again. Not even the most cunning wordsmith in the world could have convinced her that it wasn’t my fault that my daughter’s bra ended up in my hamper with a big semen stain on it. I flailed about, trying to push away her arms, her shoulders, or anything else my arms could find. She ignored my pathetic struggles as she clamped both hands onto my throat.
My eyes felt like they were bugging out, Total Recall style. I was seeing stars everywhere, and I swear I heard something pop in my neck shortly before she released me from her steely grasp. I gasped for air, holding my throat. She commanded, “Hands down!” I didn’t hear her, but she yanked them down to my sides and pinned them with her legs. She was sitting up on her knees, straddling my body. I opened my eyes just in time to see something whooshing in fast from my left. Smack! I felt a searing pain on my cheek. Then I felt the same pain on my right cheek as another hand came raining down. Then a left, then a right, and then another left until I was crying uncontrollably from the searing pain. I tried to pull my hands up to my face but they were tightly secured by her legs around me. The blows had finally stopped, leaving a throbbing pain on my cheeks.
Kyra got off me and walked to my doorway. “We’re eating out tonight. Get dressed.”
Through my sobs, I said, “Huh? I’m already dressed.”
“Oh, no. I don’t think so,” she sneered. “You’re not going out like that.” She picked up her dress from the floor and dropped it next to me. As an afterthought, she reached over and placed her bra next to me as well. “You’re going to dress like the sissy little perv you are.” Walking out the door, she said, “I expect to see you standing downstairs, ready to go, in five minutes.” She left the door open behind her and left me there in shock.
I rolled over to muffle my sobs in the sheets, but a sharp sting reminded me of the beating my cheeks had just received. I lay there motionless for a couple minutes, unable to believe how radically my life had changed. But I remembered Kyra’s command of 5 minutes and started taking off my clothes. I decided to leave my boxers on, since I figured she wouldn’t want me getting the inside of her dress dirty at all. I was about to put the bra on when I saw her in my doorway. “Silly me, I forgot to give you these,” she said, tossing something on the bed. I didn’t see what it was, since my eyes were caught on her body leaning over from beside the doorway. She had stripped down into her sports bra and underwear, leaving little to the imagination. Fortunately, she disappeared again before I had time to get myself in trouble for staring. Even after the terrible physical and mental beating I received, my Johnson still knew what it wanted and started to stir. I realized this was the first time I can remember seeing her with no shirt on, and in that brief glimpse I noticed how taut her stomach was and how curvy her hips. It was bad news that she was always around and that she was literally the sexiest woman I had ever seen with my own eyes. I had no hope of controlling my urges.
I snapped out of it and looked down at her latest gift. It was a pair of her lacey black underwear. My jaw dropped open. I didn’t know how to react. “Time’s a’wasting, little guy.” I looked up to find Kyra standing in the doorway again. She had seen my reaction. Smiling and licking her upper lip predatorily, she continued to the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on. I realized I only had 2 minutes left, and even though she probably wouldn’t check since she was in the shower, I absolutely did not want to press my luck. I reluctantly pulled down my boxers and slid on my daughter’s panties. Fortunately I was of a somewhat stockier build than her, so despite our now 12 inch height difference the panties were only a couple inches too big. The band was much lower than that of my boxers, designed to rest below the hips to avoid sticking out above a girl’s shorts. Not pausing long, I quickly picked up the bra and put it on. Having had the opportunity to practice this earlier in the day, I had no trouble meeting the clasps together behind my back. I slipped the dress on and scurried downstairs, just before my 5 minute time limit was up.
She continued to shower and didn’t emerge for another 10 minutes. I, of course, didn’t dare sit down, just standing by the kitchen table. The underwear was just a bit too big to stay on, and I frequently had to grasp them through the dress and pull them back up. Finally, she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel, which only barely covered her important parts. She stood at the top of the stairs, smiling down at me imperiously. I might have seen just a glimpse of the underside of her bush as I looked up at her, though it was dark between her legs so I couldn’t tell for sure. She chuckled down at me, saying, “You look real nice, Daddy.” She went to her room but emerged a second later, tossing down a pair of her shoes. “Put these on.”
I bent down and tried them on. Fortunately they were flats, but they were several sizes too big. I tried walking a bit and was somewhat able to keep them on by keeping my toes pressed all the way into the front of the shoes and hardly picking up my feet. I was trudging around, hearing the heels of the shoes sliding on the floor, when Kyra emerged again. She was absolutely stunning, wearing that yellow summer dress again, the one that fit her like a glove and had the low V-neck that showed as much juicy tit flesh as a guy could ever want. “Well, don’t we look like quite a pair, all dressed up and ready to go out!” she exclaimed. She was enjoying this all too much. “Aww, poor thing,” she said, turning my head to the side. “Your cheeks are still red from your punishment. Here, let’s try to cover that up.” She took out a makeup kit from her purse and opened it.
“Kyra, that’s OK, I’d rather have them red.”
“Awww, nonsense, little one. Kyra knows best. And,” she added darkly, “Daddy had better not talk back to me again; he’s in enough trouble as it is.” She bent over, WAY over, to powder my cheeks. Until that time, her neckline had been just above my vision, making it relatively easy to avoid seeing it. But now my eyes followed her increasingly deep neckline down just slightly below my level. As her arms moved about working on my cheeks, then moving on to my forehead, nose, and chin, I was completely mesmerized by their swaying to and fro. Kyra had either decided to let me watch, or was too intent on the task at hand to notice me ogling her gaping cleavage. I felt my Willy start to push out against the soft fabric of my daughter’s panties. I started panting softly, hoping that Kyra wouldn’t notice.
She apparently did not. She stood back up straight and inspected me. “Hmm, it could use a little something more …” She pulled out a stick of what was evidently mascara, as she leaned back down and started drawing under my eyelids. “Stay still, Daddy,” she gently insisted as she grabbed my chin with her other hand. With her face up to mine, at least I wasn’t able to get distracted by the view down below. She stood up again and mused for a moment longer. “Ah, and now for the finishing touch. I think this color will do you nicely.” She pulled out a slightly dark, red lipstick and told me, “Now open your lips like this,” demonstrating in front of my eyes. I complied as she applied it around my lips. “Now pucker,” she said, showing me how to roll her lips in and release with a slight smack. I followed her lead, not liking how weird it felt to have this slightly wet, slightly sticky stuff on my lips. I instinctively reached up to feel them but my daughter grabbed my hand. “Uh-uh, Daddy, you can’t touch your lips with lipstick on. For that matter, I did your whole face, so no rubbing at all or you’ll smear it. Promise me you won’t touch your face tonight, Daddy.”
“I promise, Kyra.” I knew this was going to be difficult since my face already felt funny with all this foreign material on it.
“That’s a good Daddy. I know you don’t want me to have to punish you again.” I shook my head vigorously, craning my neck up at her. She patted the top of the head. Keeping her hand there, she turned to the counter and reached in her purse. I took advantage of every second that she wasn’t looking to stare ahead at her wonderful bosom. My hand started to creep up, but I fought the urge to reach out and squeeze them. God, they must feel soooo good. My stiffy was returning with renewed vigor. Turning back towards me, she started combing my hair. As she worked her way around my head, I felt her body drawing close. Oh, so close. I could see nothing but her enormous bosom just slightly above me, and could smell nothing but her sweet aroma. She was working out some kinks in my hair, causing my head to jerk around somewhat. On multiple occasions my head was jerked forward, causing my nose to brush against the underside of her breast. I felt my member push itself up and pop out from the confines of my panties. It was no longer holding the panties up, actually now pushing them down, and so the panties quickly started to slip off again. I reached down to adjust myself, accidently moving ever-so-slightly forward and bumping my eye into where her nipple must have been. Feeling me, she looked down and saw me fidgeting with my dress below the hips. “What’s the matter down there?”
“Nothing,” I replied quickly. “Just re-adjusting.” She started to part my hair to one side. My hair wasn’t overly long, but it reached past my ears and Kyra had enough to work with. I felt her pinning something in my hair, pressing my head forward even farther this time into her ample bosom. Oh, God, I couldn’t take much more of this. I felt part of her thigh briefly brush my swollen member, causing me to gasp audibly. I closed my eyes and tried to block out all thoughts of my daughter’s towering, voluptuous figure in front of me. Noticing my fidgeting, she told me, “I know you’re getting antsy to leave. Almost done, sweetie pie.” She pulled back with her arms on my shoulders to inspect her handiwork. “Oh, you’re soooo adorable, Daddy!” she squealed. Meanwhile, still hard as a rock, I had to pull up my panties again.
“Now just what have you been doing down there?” she asked quizzically. Looking down, she paused, then said suspiciously, “Waaaiiit a second. Daddy, move your hands away.” It being too late to avoid it now, I reluctantly moved my hands back. “My, oh my, look what we have here.” I looked down as well to see a completely obvious tent in the front of my crotch. If the dress had been tight, the tent would have been mostly pressed inwards against my body, but as loose as it was, the fabric was free to push out around my erection, making it all the more obvious.
She giggled uncontrollably. “Here I was, standing completely oblivious to all the action below!” She was getting a kick out of this. “I guess I won’t punish you this time for staring at my chest; after all, you just clearly can’t help yourself when my big, luscious body is so close!” she exclaimed, giving her tit a playful squeeze for my benefit. Just at that moment, my underwear slid all the way off and fell to the floor. She burst out laughing again, her tits jiggling along with her.
Once she calmed down, she told me with a smile, “Now pull up your dress so Kyra can fix Daddy’s panties.” I shook my head no, looking up at her pleadingly. “Oh, don’t be such a prude, LITTLE GUY.” She bent down and lifted my dress, giving me yet another eyeful of cleavage, which ensured that my manhood was still at full salute despite my chagrin. She handed the hem of my dress to me to hold up then bent down to get a closer look. I took a step back and started to lower the dress. “No,” she said forcefully. I just stood there as she stared, looking from all different angles at my junk. She then reached one finger out and pressed down on my head, causing me to yelp and my member to spring back up like a diving board. She giggled, reached down, and picked up my panties. “Hmm, this won’t do. Hold on.” She turned and fished out some safety pins from her purse. Geez, girls are prepared for anything. Turning back around, she saw that my manhood was starting to calm back down. Her face lit up as she had an idea. She reached her arms around me, resting her elbows on my shoulders while bending her bosom down right in my face. It was easily the best view I had all night. She started to undulate seductively back and forth, back and forth as I stared wide-eyed at the rare vision before me. I had gotten hard again the second she bent down, but now I was also starting to pant louder and louder. I lowered my gaze slightly and saw a protuberance in the middle of each breast. Her nipples were poking out against the fabric of her dress.
Standing to her full height, she looked down at me panting, and saw that I was so hard my veins were about to explode. “Ohhhhh …” she sighed sensuously, “That was easy.” She picked up my panties, which had fallen down again, and fastened a safety pin on either side of my hips to reduce the slack. They would now be tight enough to stay on, except that the thin fabric of the panties was too elastic and my penis was still falling forward, which would still create an obvious tent and would also push the panties down. “Well, this won’t do. You’ll just have to get soft again,” she stated. Drawing herself close again, she purred sexily, “Can you do that for me, Daddy?” There was no doubt that she was getting off on this as much as I was. This time, she bent her knee and brought her thigh forward, pressing into my member. She started rubbing ever-so-softly. I was starting to pant wildly.
Then she lifted her knee and jammed it hard into my shaft. Her face suddenly went dead serious as she pulled up on my chin, forcing my gaze up into her eyes. “If you get so much as a drop of cum on my dress, I’ll fucking kill you.”
I withered under her stare, my knees buckling. “Yes, Kyra.”
She turned away. “Don’t go anywhere, Daddy. I’ll be back in three minutes. When I do come back, I expect you to be soft again and tucked away. Understand?”
“Y-Yes, dear.”
It was not going well for the first two minutes. My mind was still reeling from what had just happened. But the last minute, I pulled myself together and thought of anything I could to turn me off – vegetables, baseball, linoleum, Betty White in a bathing suit …
It worked. She came back down the stairs. I closed my eyes, not wanting to risk anything. She walked up and stuffed some things into my bra. I peeked down and saw it was just some clean socks, pantyhose, and the like, placed inside two small mesh bags and filling the two cups of my bra. I felt them through the dress; they felt quite soft and round, not nearly as squishy and full as my daughter’s breasts, but – I stopped myself in mid-thought, not wanting to arouse my member, and her anger.
She bent down until her face was just above mine, maximizing the amount of cleavage I could see. I squeezed my eyes shut, and then peeked one eye open, making sure to look up while minimizing my peripheral vision. She smiled as she saw this. “Now, we are going downtown, and I expect you to be on your best behavior, like a good little girl. None of this shyness like earlier today in front of the gym. Understand?”
“Yes, dear.”
“No, for the rest of the night, I want you to refer to me as ma’am. That’s what polite girls say.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good girl. Now, do little girls get erections when they go out in public?” What an obvious question.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“Sorry! I mean, no ma’am.”
“Correct. So I’m going to keep track of every time you get hard this evening, and each time it happens your punishment will double.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let’s go.” We got in and Kyra pulled out of the driveway. “By the way, don’t worry about making us late for dinner this time.” It was 7:15. “Even though it was your fault for making me punish you and dress you up, I so thoroughly enjoyed it that I’ll let it slide.”
“Oh, uh, thank you Kyra.” She cocked her eyebrow at me. “Thank you ma’am,” I quickly corrected. I avoided all eye contact with her, or rather with her body, not wanting to get on the scoreboard before we even got there.
We parked in a garage and I got out. Noticing that she was still sitting there patiently, it took me a second to realize what she wanted. I went around and opened the door for her. “Why, what a lady you are.” She stood up and adjusted my stuffing, saying “these don’t look quite right. We don’t want to attract stares now, do we.” She winked at me. I didn’t think that could be avoided. After she was done, she bent down towards me. As I glanced ahead at her mammoth mammaries, she kept running her hands along my body, ostensibly to straighten out my dress. Her hands kept journeying further south, now pulling down around my thighs. She knew what she was doing.
All of a sudden, my Willy popped out of my panties to say hello. “Daddy! That’s no way for a girl to behave. Shame on you!” She stood up and put her hands to her hips, looking down at me. “I’m waiting.” I again closed my eyes and used the Betty White technique, and soon enough my erection had subsided. I looked back up at her to indicate I was ready now. “If you’re not going to tuck it back in, then I will,” she threatened, moving down to do just that. Quickly, I turned away, picked up my ridiculously long dress, and put things back into place.
“That’s one.” She then draped her left arm around me, reaching behind my head and resting her hand down on my left forearm. As we walked out onto the street, she was keeping me close, her hips swaying into me every other step. I looked up and saw her just gazing around, pretending to be oblivious to what she was doing to me. But deep down, I knew that she knew exactly what she was doing. From the side, I watched her ample bosom jutting out from her chest, just inches from my face. Fortunately, my trepidation over being seen in public like this was currently winning the battle and keeping the dragon down in his cave. The streets weren’t crowded, but every 5 seconds or so a person or two would walk by. I was getting all sorts of funny stares. Seeing a man 16 inches shorter than his female companion would draw all sorts of stares by itself (hell, Kyra walking down the street by herself would have drawn all sorts of stares), but coupled with the fact that the man was wearing a dress and bra – oversized ones at that – with makeup and hair done up, must have been quite a sight indeed. I saw people all around turning to their friends, whispering in their ears, and pointing at us. As one guy walked by, I heard him say to his buddy, “Did you see that? It looks like the little one is wearing the big one’s clothes!” accompanied by laughter. Someone else laughed, “Look how short she looks next to her.” Wait, how short SHE looks? Oh my God, did I actually pass for a girl? A woman behind me said, “What is that little woman wearing? She should fire her tailor.” Another woman laughed. I looked back at them, bending my head to see around Kyra’s arm. They covered their mouths in embarrassment, but couldn’t hold it back and burst out laughing again, poking at each other to stop laughing. I turned and looked up. Kyra tried to act like she hadn’t heard, but a smile crept onto her lips as she continued walking us forward. FML. We got to the restaurant after probably 10 minutes of walking. Had she intentionally parked farther away to increase the walking time?
She had picked a fairly pricey restaurant, but I realized it was no use arguing with her. We approached the hostess, and Kyra put her name down for a table. It would be just a 5 minute wait, they said. Still on the sidewalk, she led me off to the side, out of the way, and moved me in front of her, my back to her. She placed both hands lightly on my shoulders as we waited. About 20 feet in front of us, another group of guys was waiting to be called. They were surreptitiously glancing at us and trying to whisper, but much too loudly. “Damn, check out the rack on that one.” “I’d do things to her that are illegal in 47 states.” “Yeah, but check out the little one. She makes me wanna hurl.” “God, I know.” “Hot chicks always carry around an ugly bitch or two to make themselves look better, you know that.” They laughed.
“Can we wait on the other side, please, ma’am?” I begged.
Smiling down at me, and knowing full well why I wanted to move, she said, “Sure, little one, since you asked so nicely.” She guided me away from the pack of wolves towards a much friendlier pasture. But, once there, she started to pull me ever so gently back into her. Her hands now draped down onto my chest, on either side of my neck. Her fingers slowly tickled my bare chest as I felt something big press in and slightly down onto the back of my head. She kept pulling me in, now pressing my full body back into hers. I was having to lean my head down to make way for what I now realized was her massive chest. “Ohhh,” I shuddered. She began grinding her body slowly into mine. I felt the two firm weights shifting around behind my head. My breaths had quickened, and I felt a pressure in my crotch as I was pressing against the fabric of my panties. I tried to get away, but her arms resisted me and I couldn’t get out without a struggle. Not wanting to draw any attention to myself, I stood as still as possible. But, soon enough, out popped Mr. Johnson.
I tried my hardest to keep the panic off my face as I looked around to see if anyone saw my entire dress tenting from waist down. To my great relief, the hostess called Kyra’s name at just that moment. I tried to move forward, but Kyra pulled me back into her and brought her lips down to my ear. She whispered, “That’s two,” and lightly nibbled my ear lobe before standing up and walking us in. As we entered, I heard the group of guys burst into an uproar, almost rolling on the ground laughing. I pictured them all telling this story for years and years at parties – how the tallest, sexiest girl they’d ever seen was with who they thought was a short ugly girl, until they saw ‘her’ walk by with a raging hardon. FMLx2.
I wondered how many other customers noticed my boner as we walked to our table. I prayed that there was plenty else about our appearances to attract their attention away from my crotch. Fortunately, my erection had subsided by the time we reached our booth. It was a semicircular booth, the kind usually seen at bars and night clubs. As she followed me into the booth, Kyra nudged me towards the middle and sat next to me. Facing out into the center of the room, I felt like I couldn’t be any more exposed. At least my crotch was hidden now, I reflected. I readjusted myself to put my Willy back in place, with Kyra bemusedly watching me all the while.
Our waitress came and handed us our menus. She stared at me strangely for an uncomfortable amount of time but didn’t say anything. She left, and I looked over the menu and finally decided on the filet. It was $40, but hell, I was in a foul mood and figured I might as well make the best of it.
“What are you having,” Kyra asked me.
“The filet. I’m going all out.”
“Oh, hmm…” she said with a disapproving frown. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea for you. A girl like you shouldn’t be eating so many calories with your petite frame.” Before I could protest, the waitress returned, asking Kyra if we were ready to order. “Sure. I’ll have the filet, medium-rare.” Kyra looked down at me with an evil grin. “And SHE will have the house salad, dressing on the side please.”
“Certainly,” the waitress replied. But she then looked at me and hesitated. It seemed like she wanted to tell me something, but was too uncomfortable to say it aloud.
The waitress left. “Kyra, I hate salad! Can’t I at least have some chicken or something?” I whined.
“That’s ma’am to you. And that’s no way for a lady to talk.” She turned toward me, placing her hand on my thigh. Very, very high up on my thigh. Looking over at her, I realized that even sitting down my gaze was only as high as her chin, and her neckline wasn’t very much below my line of sight. “I’ll make you a compromise. You can have a bite of mine, OK sweetie?”
Didn’t seem like much of a compromise to me. I opened my mouth to argue, but she squeezed my thigh tightly. Leaning in, she said in a stern voice, “I know what’s best for you, little one. If you complain about your food one more time, you’re not getting anything the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”
My eyes darted down to her décolletage then back up to her eyes. “Yes Kyra. I—I mean, yes ma’am.”
“That’s a good girl.” She leaned over and planted a moist kiss on my forehead. As she did so, her breast brushed against my shoulder. My cock burst out of its prison again. Still leaning in, Kyra whispered sultrily, “That’s three,” and gave my thigh another squeeze before withdrawing her hand. Flustered, I sat there in silence as my erection dwindled again.
I glanced around and noticed that everyone seemed to be looking my way. Maybe I was just paranoid, but there looked to be a lot of pointing in my direction and talking under one’s breath. Just then, the manager came up with our waitress trailing behind.
“Excuse me,” he said, looking at me, “we’ve received several complaints already about what you are wearing. Our customers are becoming very uncomfortable. We maintain a strict dress code here, and the way you are dressed, especially the … cross-dressing, is not tolerated. I will ask you to leave now.” Well, I never thought I would be relieved to hear a manager kick me out. Finally, someone recognized that I was a man (without having to see my hard-on).
Before I could humbly accept this honor, Kyra chimed in angrily, “Excuse me, Mr. Manager, but this is my friend, and SHE is going through a very difficult time in her life. True, she was born with a male anatomy”—the manager squirmed uncomfortably—“but she finally came out as a transsexual this very morning. Since she doesn’t yet have her own clothes, I offered to lend her some of mine for today. And how dare you come over here and question her right to identify herself as she pleases! She ought to sue you for sexual discrimination.”
The manager had turned beet red. “I’m so sorry, both of you. I thought this was some prank and didn’t realize your orientation. I promise, we won’t bother you again. Here, please take these,” he rushed over to the cashier and brought us two $50 gift cards, “and your meals today are free.”
Kyra said with feigned reluctance, “Very well. But,” as an afterthought, “I think it would help boost my friend’s confidence if you referred to her by her new name … Kimmy.”
“Absolutely. Our deepest apologies, Kimmy. Please let us know if you need anything at all.” The waitress also apologized to me, or should I say, Kimmy. Then they backed away, practically bowing to us in humility.
Mortified, I looked over at Kyra. She was pleased as punch. “Well, I guess we’ve found a new name for you, haven’t we, Kimmy?”
“Please, ma’am, please don’t do this to me! It’s humiliating!”
“Now, now, a girl shouldn’t feel ashamed of herself. It’s for the best, Kimmy,” she added with emphasis. “Oh, I know what we should do,” she added gleefully. “Let’s go wash up before our food gets here!”
She pulled me up and brought me towards the restrooms, amidst many stares. Not giving it a second thought, I headed for the men’s room.
“Silly Kimmy, why are you going to that side?” She came over, grabbed my hand, and walked me into the women’s room. I felt incredibly awkward as a woman walked past on her way out. Fortunately, we were now alone in the room. “OK, Kimmy, time to pee.” I reluctantly got inside the stall and whipped it out. “Kimmy! You know that girls can’t pee standing up!” she chided. Bloody hell, was she serious? I turned around and sat down. “Now remember, Kimmy, be careful not to let your dress fall onto the toilet behind you.” She was really micromanaging my first experience as a woman on the toilet. It was a bit troublesome having to hold the whole bottom of my dress up, but I managed to do so as I did my business on the toilet.
She was looking in the mirror fixing up her makeup when I stepped out. I came over and washed my hands next to her. Satisfied with her appearance, she turned to me. “Oh, looks like you could use some freshening up.” She got out her powdering thing, whatever it was called, and touched up my face. “There, see how you look now.”
I looked at the mirror in shock. I hadn’t even seen myself since the transformation. Staring back at me through the mirror was someone who resembled me in shape and build, but I could hardly recognize the face. My face had the same basic features, but I was done up, not gaudily, but tastefully, so that my skin looked softer, my lips looked fuller, and my hair – oh, my hair. In just a few short moments, Kyra had easily turned my somewhat disheveled guy hair into a nice, neat, feminine hairdo, parted at the side with 2 or 3 hairclips pinning my hair up. It absolutely looked like a girl’s hairdo. It didn’t help matters that I could barely grow a stubble anymore and my body hair had mostly fallen off. Between that, my hair, my face, my dress, and the two small mounds I had for boobs, I was almost surprised that anyone took me for a guy at all! Granted, I did look rather uncomely, and my build probably reminded more of a male, but other than that I saw a girl staring back at me in the mirror.
Kyra watched my entire reaction with a huge smile. “You see, Kimmy, you are a cute little girl after all.” My eyes started to well up. “Bad, Kimmy!” she said. “You’ll ruin your makeup. Stop crying this instant.” I put my hands up to rub my eyes. She yanked them down. “No, Kimmy. I told you not to touch your face. If you smudge your makeup I’m going to be very upset.” I somehow held back the tears. “Look at me,” she ordered as she brought a paper towel up to my eyes. “Just hold still, Kimmy.” Like a mother, she dabbed my eyes, trying to avoid any smearing. “There, all better.” She turned me back to the mirror and stood behind me. I watched through the mirror looking down at me from her vantage point well over my head, saying, “It’s OK, you really are pretty. I’m sure there are plenty of guys out there who would be happy to date you.” She was loving her position over me.
“Of course,” she continued, “not everyone is made alike. Some girls are just naturally gifted with a tall, slender physique,” she said, looking at herself as she said it, “stunning facial features, a slender neck,” she gradually brought her right hand down along her body, feeling her features as she described them aloud, and with her left hand tenderly tracing the corresponding location on my body at the same time, “big, perfectly round, perky breasts,” she pushed up on both her and my bosoms and gave a squeeze, while dropping her voice into a sexy purr, “a narrow, tapering waist,” her fingers tickled my stomach, “curving out to wide hips and a firm, round backside,” she squeezed my left butt cheek as she said this, “and long legs that go on for miles.” As she finished, her left hand snaked down, lifted up my dress, and found its way under my butt to the inside of my right thigh. “But some girls have to get by without any of that,” she whispered in my ear, as she raised her hand ever so slightly to gently stroke the underside of my scrotum. I was already rock hard, but at that last maneuver my body jolted to attention. Her tongue snaked out and slowly licked the inside of my ear. “That’s four, Kimmy,” she said lustily.
She suddenly dropped my dress down, gathered up her things, and strode out. I just stood there panting for a minute, looking at myself in the mirror. It was all so confusing. I’m still her father … aren’t I? I mulled over that question as I studied my now half-masculine, half-feminine features and recalled with disgust how my own daughter, who now towered over me, had just molested me yet again. Me, who was wearing her dress, bra, and panties. I regained enough composure to tuck my dick back into my panties, take a deep breath, and walk out of the bathroom.
Returning to Kyra and the table, I found my damned salad sitting there. “I had them take my steak back since it was cold,” Kyra explained, “but you should go ahead and eat.”
I really hated salad. I didn’t like lettuce, I didn’t like pretty much any raw vegetable, and I didn’t like the vinegary salad dressing. I looked down and poked at my plate, picking out a crouton now and then (the one good part of the salad). I was at least hoping for chicken on it, but there wasn’t any. Soon, the waitress brought Kyra’s steak out, still apologizing profusely. It looked delicious, and it was then I realized that I was starving. Seeing me eyeing her plate hungrily, she said, “Well, you’ve been a good girl and haven’t complained about your food since, so here you go. She sliced off a small bite and brought it to me with her fork. I lifted my plate to take it, but the fork just kept comin’ to my mouth. “Well, do you want it or not?” she asked indignantly, waving it in front of my lips. I didn’t want to be spoon-fed (or fork-fed, as it were) by my daughter, but that bite was the only thing that would make the dinner bearable. I opened up and she brought it into my mouth. Pulling the fork out, she said, “Whoops,” picked up her napkin, and dabbed a bit of juice off my chin. For that brief couple seconds, though, I experienced true pleasure as I chewed it around in my mouth. “Can I have another bite, ma’am?”
“No, silly! One bite; that was the deal. Now finish your salad.” I grudgingly started taking in the leafy grossness. I eventually finished it and watched in envy as Kyra savored the last bite of filet. “Mmm, that was delicious, I’m glad we came here.” We got the bill, and Kyra confirmed that it was $0, and didn’t leave a tip. They weren’t going to argue.
Stepping outside, we started walking back towards the car. Mercifully, she let me walk on my own, not even holding my hand. But, about half a mile away, she suddenly turned, and said, “Kimmy, you were very brave today, coming out as a girl.” I almost broke down right there in the middle of the street. Fortunately the sidewalk wasn’t so busy now. “There, there.” She stroked my cheek tenderly. Before I knew it, she pulled me in for a hug. I tried to pull back, at least my head which was crammed into her chest. But she held the back of my head and pulled me into her warm, pillowy flesh. I kept trying to struggle, but she responded by pulling my body into her even more. Unable to resist her, all the day’s frustrations came to me at once, and I cried.
“It’s OK, Kimmy. Kyra’s here for you.” Her voice soothed, but her arms relentlessly pulled me deeper into her bosom. I could still breathe, but with difficulty. I felt her hips pull away from me as she leaned down to sink my face into her more fully. With her hand, she started to rub my face back and forth across her soft mounds of flesh. When my mouth found her nipple, she stopped rubbing and suddenly pressed me with renewed force into her. She let out a gasp. I felt her nipple clearly, poking through the fabric of her dress and bra, and meeting my lips. After only a moment, she pulled me free, her breast bouncing back into place in front of my eyes. We were both breathing heavily. Of course, I was sporting some heavy wood. She slowly drew herself down until her face was level with mine, and said huskily, “That’s five. You’re getting into dangerous territory.” My eyes opened in shock as she reached down and squeezed my cock. “I’ll have to devise a suitable punishment when we get home.” She was horny as hell.
She simply stood up and walked toward the car. After coming to my senses, I scurried along behind her. The way she was swaying her arms and ignoring my presence seemed to tell me to stay behind her. I did just that, and watched and she swayed her wide hips side to side, side to side, side to side, having to constantly hold my panties up to keep them from falling off. I didn’t even notice the stares and jeers from passersby. Several minutes later, she looked back, and with a predatory grin glanced down at my still-hard member. She said nothing and continued on.
As we got in the car she turned her body in her seat to face me. Oh God, I felt like a mouse thrown into a cat’s cage. And she looked ready to pounce. “Mmmm, little Kimmy, what to do about this one,” she said, her hand gliding down to my erection, which still had not subsided. Her arm, reaching across her body, pushed up on her chest, giving me a gut-wrenching display of her milky white breasts. Her lips were parted and she was slowly licking her lips as she inhaled and exhaled forcefully. “Your erection has gone on for soooo long now. I wonder: should I count this as one or two?” She fingered my head lightly, causing my cock to spasm. She continued brushing her nail across it intermittently for a good 30 seconds.
“I’ve decided. Every 10 minutes counts as another one. So you’re still on 5, little one, although,” glancing at the clock, “I would say it’s been, oh, about 8 minutes so far.” She gave me a challenging smile, as if to tell me, ‘I will keep you hard as long as I please.’
She took her hand away, turned forward, and drove out of the garage. She repositioned her rear-view mirror downwards. Way downwards. I hardly had to guess where it was pointing now. I looked out my window and tried to think it away again. Betty White, Betty White, Betty White, …, KYRA, KYRA. She was tickling my head again. Oh God, don’t think about how amazing that feels. No, Kyra! Don’t! Stop!
“10 minutes,” she said huskily. “That’s six. Your punishment just doubled again.” Oh, no. I wasn’t sure if she was just using an arbitrary scale, but it could only be bad. I was relieved that she removed her hand. A couple minutes later, my breathing had returned to normal and my penis was now deflated to about half pressure, although it was still sticking out from my dress. I just waited to get home in and worried about my punishment. I was caught completely off guard by her hand on my cock once more. “Hrmm, still awake, I see. It’s not time for you to hide yet.”
I used both hands to force her one hand away. “Please, stop it!” I cried.
She slammed on the brakes in the middle of the empty road. Turning, she clenched her hand onto my cheeks and squeezed, pulling me closer. “You will look directly at my body for the remainder of the ride. If I catch you closing your eyes, or looking anywhere else, even for an instant, your punishment will be ten times worse.”
“Y-Yes ma’am.” Her punishment scale was getting a bit out of proportion. I mean, on this scale, having only one erection would probably be equivalent to a light slap on the wrist, I mused. But I wasn’t going to argue the relative merits of a geometric progression versus a linear or perhaps quadratic one. All I knew was that she had some sense of how much she would punish me, and moving 10 units right on the x-axis was bad, on any scale.
She repositioned the mirror so that her eyes were looking right at mine. No way I could risk glancing away now. She saw me looking at her eyes in the reflection and yelled, “What did I just say?”
“Sorry ma’am!” I darted my eyes over, and they went naturally to her chest. I could only assume she would continue to look at my eyes for the remainder of the ride, but I didn’t dare move my eyes away to check; all I could do was look down at her body.
I tried to avoid getting aroused, fixing my eyes on one spot and not thinking of it as her body. But no matter where I looked – hips, legs, shoulder, stomach-- there was much too much worth looking at, and my mind had no choice but to focus on her body, her chest breathing in, then out, then in again; her young, supple curves, her soft yet firm skin, her …
She glanced every now and then at my cock with satisfaction. After some time, she announced, “Mmhmm. 20 minutes. That makes 7, Kimmy.” She continued to talk, becoming aroused again. “Oh, little Kimmy, you can’t even look at my body without getting hard, can you? Ahhhhh,” she let out a deep sigh as her hips began to squirm about in her seat. “Look at you, Kimmy, you can’t even resist your own innocent little 18-year-old daughter. You can’t control your little pecker around me, can you? Tell me, what was going through your mind today as you stood there wearing you daughter’s big bra, shooting you load all over your pants? Who were you thinking about, just then? Whose body drives you crazy, makes you want to touch yourself? Hmm?” She was panting now, her hands moving across her breasts, idly playing with her own nipples. In all my sexual exploits, I don’t remember seeing anyone woman get nearly so excited just sitting next to me.
We finally made it home. She got out and walked around the car as I just sat there, petrified. She opened my door and said, “I don’t remember giving you permission to take your eyes off me.” Oh crap. I could only pray that she hadn’t increased my punishment by an order of magnitude right there. I walked in behind her, watching her ass sway in front of me at chest level. She cocked her head to the side to see that I was still behind her, then sauntered up the stairs. I followed her, of course.
She entered her room. I was about to step in when I remembered her warning this afternoon. She glanced back, hoping to catch me breaking her rule. “Very good, Kimmy. You may enter my room now and sit on my bed.” I obeyed immediately. She casually walked around the room, not acknowledging my presence in the slightest, except for the occasional glance to keep me honest. Not that she really needed to, at this point. A significant part of me was grateful that she was actually allowing me to feast my eyes on her.
She unzipped her dress, pulled down the straps, and stepped out. Underneath, she had on a matching red bra and panties. And, of course, her heels. I was getting hot as hell now. I had never seen so much of her body on display. I suddenly longed for her to grab me, press my body into hers, and have her way with me.
But she remained out of my reach, still casually sauntering about her room, completely ignoring me. She stood in front of her mirror, brushing her hair slowly for several minutes. Then, finally, she looked at her clock, put the brush down, and sauntered over in front of me.
My senses were overwhelmed. She was so much woman. “30 minutes. That’s 8. Let’s see. How much does that multiply out to.” I started to do the math, figuring out 2^7, but I had only gotten to 32 when she announced, “128.” She gave a sinister laugh. “You’re in big trouble, missy.” She just stood over me in silence, working out my punishment.
Several excruciating minutes later, she said with a wry smile, “For starters, you are grounded for the next 2 weeks, young lady, and I am taking away your phone and computer. And after tonight,” she said, looking over and seeing that it was already past 9:00, “you will be in bed, lights out, not a minute later than 9:00.” She gave a dramatic pause. “Oh, and by the way, I think you’ll find that my definition of ‘grounded’ is a little bit different than yours; a bit … harsher, perhaps. You’ll find out more about that later.” That sounded ominous.
“Next, I will give you a spanking. I think you will find that my spankings will be a bit harsher than yours as well. However, since I don’t want to spoil you for tonight,” she said with an evil grin, “I will wait until tomorrow morning to administer it.” Great, now I had tomorrow to look forward to as well. “And thirdly, well, that’s what is about to happen right now. But I daresay that this one is not so much of a punishment, since I think you just might enjoy it.”
She grabbed me, lifted me off the bed, carried me over to the wall, and slammed me roughly against it. “Now, little sissy, I’ll make you a deal. If at any point tonight, you are able to break free from me and make it through my doorway, I will drop all of the punishments. Hell, I’ll even promise you a whole week, punishment-free.”
“W –what? Seriously?” I was shocked.
“Yes, Kimmy, that’s right. Deal?” I agreed, not believing she would risk me getting off the hook like that.
“OK, then.” She dropped me on the floor. Without hesitating, I darted for the door. I was determined to get out of here at all costs. I thought I had her until she yanked on my legs, hard, and pulled me back to her. “Going somewhere, little one?” she inquired. She pulled me up to the wall again, this time leaving me on my feet. “I think you’re almost at 40 minutes now. You’d better try to escape soon,” she taunted. Was she seriously going to redouble the punishment? She stood there looking down at me with her hands on her hips, giving perhaps a foot of room between me and her. I anxiously looked left and right, thinking maybe if I faked right then ran left I could catch her off guard. I tried that, but she easily darted in front of me and I hit a wall of flesh.
This time, she didn’t leave any room, and pressed her body against me back into the wall. “Hmm, you’re a little too short now,” she commented, as my face was jammed against the bottom of her bra. She reached down, grabbed both my wrists, and slowly brought them up over my head. She pulled my arms even higher, lifting my feet up until I was tip-toeing. Then she brought the full weight of her breasts into me. I felt warm flesh completely encasing my face. She held me like that for some time. I had absolutely no leverage, with my feet dangling and my arms pinned straight up. I couldn’t even reposition my head as she was bearing down on me. My face was starting to get hot in this sexy prison. I couldn’t breathe and was running low on oxygen. I started screaming into her chest, which only produced a muffled yell in her chest. “Ooohhh, that feels nice, your voice vibrating into me like that.” She pulled back for only 2 seconds as I gasped for breath, then she slammed me into her again. “Your head is so much smaller than last time I tried this – I can really get you in there far,” she purred. Eventually I started screaming again for air. “That’s it, Kimmy, let it out.” She had gotten all hot and bothered by now. Then Kyra suddenly dropped me and I crumpled into a heap on the floor
“Bad Kimmy!” she exclaimed, looking down at herself. “You smudged your makeup on my dress! And you slobbered on my boobs again. I’ll have to add this to your punishment.” She turned her back to me and stepped towards the bed, and I saw that this was my chance! I scrambled for the door but she spun immediately and pounced on me before I had gotten even halfway there. It was as if she wanted me to try to escape, and she enjoyed pulling me back.
“Mmmh. What’s the matter, little one? Scared of big Kyra, are you?” In despair, I flailed about as she pinned my back to the ground. “That’s it, Kimmy. I just LOVE it when you try to resist me.” She pulled me by the hair to the corner of the bed and stood over me. “OK, enough foreplay. Time for the main course, Daddy.” In horror, I watched as my daughter started to pull her panties down above me.
“Wh-what are you doing??” My voice trembled in fear.
As her panties dropped to her feet, I looked up at my daughter’s pussy, which was dripping wet from her juices. Her legs straddling my sides, I could see her staring down at me over her tits. I watched as her hand snaked down towards her bush. I watched her start to finger herself, moaning softly and squeezing her tit with her other hand.
I didn’t want to guess what she was going to do with me. I spun around and made a desperate leap for the door. I of course landed short and was about to scramble forward when my head was yanked back. She grabbed a handful of my hair and lifted me up onto my two feet. “Don’t leave yet, there’s something I want you to help me with, Daddy,” she breathed huskily. Pulling me back to the bed, she forced me to my knees as she sat at the bed corner, her knees on either side of my head. I felt myself being pulled inexorably toward her crotch.
Realizing what she had in mind, I begged her, pleaded her, implored her, “Kyra, anything but that! Please! You don’t know what you’re doing! I’m your father! I –mmrrmmffhh.” My voice was muffled as she pressed my face into her warm lips. Her legs pressed around me as her hands pushed me in, locking me into her womanhood. I screamed, flailed, pounded on her legs, anything to get out.
My struggles were having precisely the opposite effect I had intended. “Ooohhhaaahh,” she said as her body lurched, “Oh God, Daddy, that’s it!!” She pushed me deeper into her cleft. Unable to breathe, I started opening and closing my mouth, gasping for air that wasn’t there. The only affect this had was to cause her to start to buck her hips more and more wildly. This couldn’t have lasted more than 30 seconds, and just as I was about to black out, her entire body shuddered and her legs squeezed my head to the breaking point. She screamed in ecstasy as I felt her juices wash over my face and into my mouth.
I gagged, still unable to breathe, swallowing my daughter’s juices. She opened her legs, allowing me to collapse in a heap at her feet. As she sat back and basked in glory, she told me, “Oh, you were wonderful, Daddy. That was the most amazing experience I’ve ever had!” My daughter had just been eaten out for the first time in her young life, and I was the one who did it to her.
I sobbed uncontrollably, curling up around a blanket which had fallen next to me. I buried my head into the blanket, blocking out all connection with the outside world. An 18-year-old girl – my own daughter – had just had her way with me, and I was completely powerless to stop her. Me, wearing a black dress, black bra, black panties, makeup, and hairpins, helplessly being controlled against my will by this towering behemoth of a woman.
What was I? I was still a man … right? Despite my feminine appearance today, I realized that I still thought of myself as a man. But I would look back on this moment as that defining moment when, from that point on, I could no longer think of myself as a father.
I heard her get up and move about her room as she just let me lay there. I don’t know how long I continued to sob until eventually I faded off to sleep, curled into a ball on my daughter’s bedroom floor.