Daddy’s girl

When I was younger, my life was very different. I was the son of a single mother who worked her ass off every day to take care of me, but no matter how hard she worked or how little I wanted, we just never seemed to able to get ahead. There was always another bill to pay, or the car breaking down, or some other thing that would deplete our savings. All that changed when I was 11. My mom finally found a guy who was not immediately turned off by the fact that she had a kid. I’m still not quite sure where he met him, but it was clear he was well off financially, and he brought such stability to my mother and me that I didn’t really care.
Right off the bat he seemed ready to be a dad and would spend all kinds of time with me. It wasn’t long before he asked me to start callling him “Dad”. Well, “Daddy” to be precise, but I didn’t quite get the difference at the time. My new dad was living with us for about a year when he and my mom sat me down in the living room for a “family meeting”. It was then I was told what my future would hold. First off I was only to call my new dad “Daddy”. “Dad” would no longer be acceptable and would be grounds for punishment. I was also told from that day on I would begin my journey to become “Daddy’s perfect little girl”. I was so confused. I wasn’t a girl. I was a boy. A boy who dreamed of being a fireman or playing in the NFL. I tried to object, but my mom cut me off, telling me to “do as your Daddy says.” She wouldn’t even look at me when she said it. I tried to object again, but this time Daddy quickly grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me over his lap and started giving me my first spanking. I can still remember the sting of that spanking.
After that meeting, my world changed. My room and my wardrobe seemed to change overnight. My t-shirts became babydolls, shorts became skirts, and my briefs became panties. My daily life changed too. Every day I had to learn how to be better at being “Daddy’s little girl”. I was expected to look pretty 24/7, which meant learning how to pick out outfits and doing make up. I was also expected to wash Daddy’s dirty clothes, fetch him drinks, and make him food whenever he wanted. All this was topped off with a hefty regimen of “vitamins” that would help me become the best girly I could be. At first I wanted none of this, but the memory of that first spanking always prevented me from breaking Daddy’s rules intentionally. Of course, I would slip up from time to time, but the punishments I received made me make sure I was very careful to be Daddy’s perfect girl at all times.
As the years went by and my body started to develop, my list of tasks and responsibilities grew and took on things of a sexual nature. At first it started with things like fetching him a towel when he would get out of the shower. Before I knew it, I was in the shower with him scrubbing every inch of his body. Then he started telling me to give special attention to washing his penis, which was gargantuan compared to my own and startled me when it got even bigger and hard. He would tell me how we wanted it scrubbed until he would climax. After a while, I started seeing it as a game. How quickly could I make Daddy cum? How much of his sperm can I make shoot out? I’m not quite sure when I started using my mouth, but I remember the first time he came in it. I remember gagging and wanting to spit it out so bad, but Daddy held my mouth shut and ordered me to swallow. It took everything I had not to spit it out, but the fear of punishment was motivation enough. Soon after that, I was designated “Daddy’s alarm clock” along with my mom. Every morning we would get up early wake up daddy by sucking his dick. Mom and I even came up with a few different games we would play, which made it whole lot of fun.
Today is my sixteenth birthday, and I woke up with something of an epiphany. Looking back over the last few years, I took account of journey I’ve underwent. I looked down at the light pink bedding of the queen sized bed I slept in and remembered the padded mat I slept on before Daddy came along. Across the board my life was way better now than it was before Daddy came along, and Daddy’s only requirements for me was to be pretty, be girly, and do as he says. Well, I was pretty, I was girly, and doing what Daddy says has become second nature to me, so really, all I had to do was be myself. With that thought, I felt as if the last, small part of me that was still holding onto being a boy gave in, and I got out of bed to start my daily responsibilities wholeheartedly.
After I finished cleaning the dishes from breakfast, Daddy told me to come out to the drive way. I bounced with glee as I saw the new volkswagon that I thought looked super cute. Daddy told me to stand by the car to take some pictures. After a couple shots, he told me to lift my shirt, which I did without even a second thought. He snapped a couple pictures then came up to me to admire my budding breasts and whispered in my ear that I would be getting another present tonight. When he said that, he gave my pert bottom a squeeze. He continued to take pictures of me in various states of undress with my new car. All the while, I couldn’t help but be excited about my other gift.


Leave a Reply