This is a work of fiction. All characters are over eighteen years of age.
I was living with my adult daughter Linda, as a recent victim of identity theft all my assets were frozen. It had happened just as I was switching apartments so I couldn't even rent until some clarity was achieved. At least she had room for me.
Linda was doing very well for herself as a plus sized model, she's quite tall for a woman, six foot four, and muscular to boot. Her mother and I have no idea how that happened as neither of us broke five ten. We were divorced, I'd rather eat ground glass than move in with
her
, even short term.
Linda's house was large and airy, tastefully decorated and on a large piece of land for privacy. Apparently she has 'enthusiastic fan' problems sometimes. I can see why, she's gorgeous. Take your average supermodel and multiply her by one and a half, that's my daughter. She's famous for her takes-no-shit attitude, it comes through loud and clear.
In public anyway. As I found out she could be very different behind closed doors.
To be honest my own daughter used to intimidate me. I'm five nine (and a half to be picky), and while I'm in decent shape Linda looks like she could easily lift a bus. Honey-brown hair just past her shoulders, eyes that you'd swear were gold one second, green-brown the next. Killer smile. Add in rich and famous, in modeling circles anyway, I know you've seen her in TV ads. So when I moved in with her, I felt... humbled.
Linda though was still my little girl. She was very warm and welcoming, calling me Dad and everything even though she's twenty six and seven inches taller than me. She encouraged me to make myself at home, giving me my own bedroom and even getting me all hooked up to her internet. I'm not super tech-savvy like the younger folks are now.
We fell into a routine, got to know each other's habits pretty fast. Linda works odd hours sometimes as a model so early mornings and late nights got to be no big deal. I've always been a night owl, I'd sit in bed with my laptop most nights, watching stupid videos on YouTube or reading Literotica stories. My favorite genres have always been Incest/Taboo and Mind Control stories.
Well one night I was in bed, waxing the tadpole, when I thought I heard a noise. I stopped, pulled up the covers and called out "Linda? That you hun?" I was shocked out of my mind when I heard her soft voice from just behind my bedroom door, "Yes Daddy."
She peeked around the door, just one eye, she looked a little scared. I closed the laptop and used it to cover my hard-on, hoping if I ignored it she would too. "Come on in, sugar," I said.
She ducked around the door slowly, tentatively. She was wearing just a babydoll nightie and a thong, by the looks of her crotch she was hairless, the thong was super tight on her. Her massive tits lifted the sheer fabric off her flat belly. She was acting so demure, it was odd for her.
She came and sat on the edge of the bed, not embarrassed in the slightest in her apparel, model, remember? "Daddy, can we talk? About something serious?" Her face was troubled, I hated seeing my great big little girl like that.
"Of course, darling, anything, you know that." We'd always been close, closer than she and her mother certainly, probably closer than most father/daughter pairs I guess. She's always given me the respect of listening to my ideas, how could I do less?
Linda had trouble meeting my eyes. What could be consuming her so? I hoped it wasn't anything I had done. I was very aware of my status as a guest in her home, even if I was her father. If it was something I'd done I'd never forgive myself.
"Dad, it's... It's about sex." Linda blushed furiously, her hands twisted in her lap. "If you don't want to talk about it I understand..."
"Of course we can talk about that," I interrupted. "We have before you know." I'd been the one to give her the male version of 'The Talk'; from what I gather her mother's advice on sex was 'Don't.' Linda had always come to me with her boy problems in the past.
It was getting late, my erection had subsided and my laptop was asleep, I shelved it on the nightstand and scooted over, patting the bed next to me. "C'mon, climb in, I'm getting sleepy. We'll talk."
Instead my daughter rose and began pacing my bedroom. She was muttering to herself about what a bad idea this was, finally she turned and blurted out to me, "Just forget it!" and hurried out of my room, face red as a beet.
Well now I was wide awake. I rose and put a robe on and followed Linda to her room where she had flung herself on her huge bed. She was lying on her tummy, her shoulders were shaking, face buried in the sheets. I went and sat by her side, gently rubbing circles on her back until she quieted.
"You always used to do that." My daughter's voice was muffled by the sheets. I kept going. After a moment she let out a huge sigh and brought her face out of the covers. "Dad, I found your porn."
I froze. Oh shit, she had installed all my stuff, hadn't she? She was way more computer smart than I, of course she'd have been able to see what kind of stuff I consumed. All the stories that I'd favorited were incest, usually father/daughter, or fantasies of male dominance, or both. A few about Dad hypnotizing daughter to be his slut. Oh crap.
"Dad, let me talk for a while, okay?" She sat up, this time she patted the sheets next to her, soon we were leaning against each other. It was warm and comfortable. Linda started talking.
About being Linda. Being six four. Finding a guy who wasn't intimidated by her size was hard enough. Finding one who wasn't after her money or fame was even harder. And then there were the things she'd never told anyone.
Being Linda meant being in control all day; of your brand, of your business, of yourself. It's way more work than I've ever done as an accountant. And she gets tired of it all. She has fantasies where someone else is in control. It was starting to dawn on me where this was going.
