NOTE TO READERS:
Please be patient with the slow beginning of this story. The first section concentrates on setting the stage and the characters, but have faith! It's a multi-chapter story with more than enough action to satisfy!
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It's important for any parent to do whatever they can to boost their daughter's self-confidence and poise in order to ready them for the world outside -- even if that means fucking the shit out of them over and over, day after day, teaching them to take their Daddy's cock in every orifice. It's the least a father can do.
Katie had always been a shy girl. From the day she was born, she was the most reticent girl I ever met. Though she quickly learned to speak, as a toddler she refused to speak in front of strangers. She hated going to the grocery store for fear that the cashier might talk to her. The only friend she had in elementary, junior high and high school was Randi, a girl every bit as shy as herself. Elaine and I were grateful that the two girls had each other as company, but sometimes, when we talked privately about our daughter, we worried that the two girls' intense shyness reinforced each other in their reluctance to put themselves forward.
There was a while there, when Katie was in junior high, when we thought maybe things were turning around. We enrolled her in a dance class. There, freed from the pressure of having to make conversation with others, she seemed to come out of her shell. She started with beginning ballet lessons, then moved to regular dance classes -- waltzes, polkas, that sort of thing -- and later still tried her hand at modern dance. Her performance at dance recitals was the only time I could remember when she was willing to stand up in front of other people without hiding behind her ash-blonde hair, or squirming in the discomfort of being seen by others in public.
Unfortunately, it didn't last. Katie was slow to become interested in boys -- she was fifteen before she reached that stage that girls hit where she started papering her bedroom walls with clean-shaven, vaguely androgynous male teenage heartthrobs. And as for dating boys at her high school, forget it. Instead, she and her equally shy friend Randi skirted the edges of their high school hallways, avoiding parties, avoiding cliques of all sorts, and generally doing their best to never get noticed by anyone. Randi and she dressed in the frumpiest clothes imaginable, virtually guaranteeing that no boy would ever give either of them a second glance.
As a father, I found myself at a loss. Nothing Elaine or I ever did managed to get little Katie to come out of her shell. There were times when Elaine cried herself to sleep in my arms, worrying about our daughter's painful shyness. Elaine berated herself endlessly for whatever nameless thing she had done or had failed to do that had led to her daughter being such a shrinking violet. "She's pretty. She's smart. She's such a joy to be around," Elaine said to me on more than one occasion. "Why doesn't she see herself the way we see her?"
Around her seventeenth birthday, Katie's shyness extended to even include her dance lessons -- the one outlet that had seemed immune to her social fears. She continued with the dance lessons, but now she refused to take part in any dance classes that included boys, and she refused any role, no matter how small, in the class recitals. She even forbad her mother and me from attending her classes. The dance instructor told us that Katie was one of her best students -- but only when she was dancing in the relative safety of her class sessions.
Shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Katie got invited -- a miracle in itself! -- to a group outing to the beach. It was a weekend affair hosted by one of the parents at her school that would have included boys and girls. The parents of one of the girls had a timeshare condo on the coast, and agreed to have a bunch of kids come for a three day weekend that promised to be nothing but wholesome fun. The whole weekend would be chaperoned by the parents who owned the time share.
I knew better than to argue with Katie about it, but I couldn't resist pointing out a few things to her: there would be a group of boys and girls present, I said, so there wouldn't be any pressure on Katie to be the life of the party or anything like that. Couldn't she just try it out for once and see if maybe it wasn't quite as painful as she feared?
Elaine was more forceful. For once, she refused to take no for an answer, and insisted that THIS TIME, at least, Katie would socialize with her fellow students. "They're nice kids, I'm sure of it," Elaine said. "Trust me. You'll enjoy yourself."
Katie was on the verge of tears as her mother went into her room and started pulling out light summer dresses and jeans for Katie to wear on the trip. "Oh, please, Mom!" Katie cried, on the verge of tears. "Please! Don't make me! I just don't want to."
Tucked away in the back of the bottom drawer of her dresser, Elaine found a one-piece swimsuit that we'd bought for Katie on her birthday a couple of years earlier, a swimsuit that I had never once seen my daughter wear. "This is perfect," Elaine said. "You can wear this on the beach."
Now Katie was crying for real. "It doesn't even fit, Mom," she said. "Please don't make me wear it."
"Nonsense," said Elaine. "Try it on, and we'll see whether it looks good on you. If it doesn't fit, I'll buy you a new one for the trip."
Katie took the swimsuit reluctantly from her mother and went into the bathroom to change. A few minutes later, she came out, red faced both from crying and from embarrassment.
Looking at my daughter in the one piece suit, I saw immediately that she was right, and I also saw at least a part of why Katie's social embarrassment had so drastically increased over the last year or so.
Her tits were huge! Constrained by the tight one-piece, Katie's breasts were bulging out in all directions, stretching the fabric to the point that the material was noticeably more sheer where it stretched between two humongous breasts. At the top, her tits nearly overflowed the top, providing the most incredible cleavage that I had ever seen outside of a men's magazine.
Somewhere along the line, adolescence had hit my daughter with a vengeance. I immediately thought back over the last year and a half, remembering when Katie's frumpy clothes had become drastically even more frumpy and shapeless. At the time, I had thought that it was merely her natural shyness becoming more pronounced, but now I saw that it was an intense embarrassment over her budding womanhood, driving her to become even more self conscious, even more withdrawn.
Katie's huge tits were only a part of the package. She had always had a slight build -- perfect for a dancer -- and now her humongous tits seemed to overwhelm what was otherwise a tight little body with a small waist and flaring hips. The result was a mouth-watering hourglass figure so stunning that I couldn't take my eyes off her body. Looking at her tits spilling out of all sides of the tight swimsuit, I couldn't help but think how fantastic it would be to grope her huge, soft tits, to lift her little body up onto my lap facing me so that I could lick her big tits while fucking her.
Katie squirmed under my gaze, interpreting, I think, my open-mouthed stare as criticism. She started crying even more. "You see why I can't wear this?" she said, turning to her mother. "It makes me look like a freak. I hate my body! I'm a freak! If I go on this trip, everyone will stare at me!" Her delicious tits, nearly bursting out of a swimsuit that would have looked demure on anyone else, shook with her sobs so much that I couldn't take my eyes off them. With each gasp, Katie's tits jiggled wildly. When had my daughter become a sex bomb?
