"Baby, please don't say stuff like that about yourself," I pleaded with my daughter, Mia, who was currently engaged in another frantic berating of herself over her appearance. I think someone may have recently said something, to her or about her, earlier that day at school.
Like her mom, Mia had always been a bit overweight. But unlike her mom, Mia had always been very self-conscious about her appearance, even though she was obviously very pretty and well-proportioned.
But maybe that wasn't as obvious to her as it was to me.
______
Mia was about 6 inches shorter than me. Aside from her lesser height, she looked very similar to her mom, which means she was extremely cute.
She had a wide but beautiful and slightly freckled face, with a strong jawline just like her mom. I was a little jealous of their facial features - I always thought my wife, Becky, was more "handsome" than me.
Mia wore a size E bra, which I only know because I overheard her and her mom talking while shopping for new bras at Target. It's not like I was trying to overhear, I just happened to be in earshot when my wife casually mentioned the letter E to Mia, and that they're both the same cup size. Not that it was any surprise that they would be the same cup size; that seemed about right to me.
For obvious reasons, I had never consciously thought about the size of my daughter's ass. That would be weird... But I did notice, over the years, as Mia's new pairs of underwear increased to nearly the same size as her mom's. By around the time Mia turned eighteen, I sometimes had to check with her or her mom to verify whose-is-whose when it was my turn to fold the laundry; they both wore the same kind of plain white cotton panties.
The same thing never happened with their bras because my wife has some special method she uses for washing both of their bras. I don't really know what she does, but it happens in the bathroom, and I think vinegar is involved. It doesn't smell great and I usually stay away from that operation.
_____
"You're so beautiful, you're adorable, baby," I pleaded with her. She just huffed and turned away from me.
"You have to say that, you're my dad," Mia pouted.
We were at home in my office. I had turned my chair away from my desk and was facing my daughter, who was sort of milling around the room as she complained about her appearance. She was wearing an over-sized T-shirt that nearly went down to her knees, and she usually wore just her plain cotton panties underneath.
My wife was out running errands. She had left a few hours ago, so we were expecting her back any minute.
"I don't have to say anything," I retorted. "Uh, you've seen your mom, right?" I raised one eyebrow at her.
"No, never. Is she pretty? Is she sexy?" Mia replied sarcastically. It was a little weird to hear my daughter ask if I thought her mom was sexy, but I wanted to be honest with her.
"She is, actually. She's the prettiest, sexiest woman in the world, and that's why I married her," I said proudly. "And you look just like her, so that means you're beautiful too."
There it was. I had defeated my daughter with simple logic.
"Yeah, I guess Mom is really pretty," Mia sighed. "Sexy, too," she added.
"That's right," I said proudly.
"Sooo, I guess that means... you think I'm sexy too?" Mia wondered out loud, right before we heard her mom come in through the front door.
_____
"Don't be such a little weirdo," I scolded my daughter quietly enough so her mom wouldn't overhear.
Mia grinned. "MOOO--ooooom, Dad says he thinks I'm sexy!" Mia hollered in a sing-song tone, like a little kid ratting out her brother for stealing from the cookie jar.
"Well, maybe that's because you ARE!" My wife yelled back from the kitchen. I could hear her setting down several bags of who-knows-what on the counter top.
"See? I told you!" I teased my daughter. She rolled her eyes at me but there was a slight smile at the corners of her lips. A moment later, Becky made her way over and stood at the entrance to the office. She was wearing a tight-fitting red T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans that looked like they were about to burst around her gigantic ass and thighs.
"What the heck are you freaks talking about, anyway?" She asked with a smile. She hadn't taken Mia seriously at all.
I sighed. "Mia's in one of her moods again." Becky rolled her eyes and briefly glanced at Mia sadly. "So," I continued, "I was just trying to explain to her that she's actually very beautiful." Mia rolled her eyes so hard that I could practically hear it. "So I told her that you're very beautiful, and since she looks just like you, she's beautiful too."
Becky thought for a moment. "That's only logical," she said, nodding her head at Mia.
"Uh-huh," Mia replied sadly. "Maybe I look okay with clothes on, Mom, but underneath I'm pretty gross."
"Oh, for God sakes, Mia," Becky grumbled, then she quickly pulled her shirt off over her head.
"Uh... Mom?" Mia asked, and by this point her mom was undoing her bra behind her back. Becky ignored her and finished her task. I wasn't even sure what was going on. Why was my wife undressing in front of our daughter? It felt like it was happening in slow motion.
_____
"There!" Becky said proudly as she tossed her bra to the floor and placed her hands on her wide hips. She was now fully topless, but her jeans were still pulled up to about halfway between her belly button and her nipples, concealing her round tummy.
Becky's breasts were large enough that they rested a few inches below the waistband of her jeans at their lowest point. They were extremely wide, extending to her sides sort of below her armpits, and they extended several inches front of her too. Faint stretch marks marched from her upper chest in nearly straight lines down her breasts, ending above her nipples. Her tits were so pale that a faint green tapestry of veins could be seen under her skin. Her nipples pointed downward as much as they did forward, due to the absolutely massive size of her breasts. She had told me long ago that as her breasts swelled to their enormous size when she was younger, her nipples gradually migrated downward. The orientation of her nipples had never bothered me; this was just something she mentioned to me one time after I had partially lifted one of her breasts to get better access to her nipple. Her delicious nipple.
Mia stared ahead at her mother's breasts. Her eyebrows were raised. "I guess mine don't look that different from yours," she admitted. Again, no surprise to me, since they were the same cup size.
This was pretty wild. Outwardly I stayed calm, but there was one problem: I have always been so attracted to my wife that even in these strange circumstances, just seeing her topless was getting me excited. I tried to adjust my pants discretely, but I was caught: