It's the purest karma that I, a man obsessed with large and beautiful women - I mean, BBWs, the type of women that mostly exist only in hyperbolic illustrations but rarely seen in reality - would have dedicated my life to raising one without knowing. Sometimes destiny puts you in your place. That's how I fell in love with Elizabeth, a woman with an athletic figure, angelic face, and nothing to do with what I had always searched for. But it was love at first sight, and only two years later after meeting her, I left everything: family, job, friends... to marry her and move to her city. For our second year of marriage, Elizabeth gave me my first daughter, Betty, the most important person in my life to this day, despite all that I did to her, which I will now reveal.
From her birth until the day it happened, Betty remained an angel, devoid of any kind of malice and endowed with the ability to make a million times better life just by looking at her. She was the sweetest girl, with a face as perfect as her mother's. The truth is, it hurts to see a child grow up, especially if it's a little girl. You wish with all your soul that she remains a girl, pure, innocent... but it can't be that way forever. And maybe my biggest mistake was trying.
Betty reached puberty and her hips began to widen and her breasts acquired a new dimension, but at 14 years old, she still dressed up her dolls. At that age, the shapes of her body pointed directly to those of her mother, it would be her living image. But we never knew exactly when or why her physical development decided to take a different path. By 15, she only retained the beautiful face of the tender girl she once was, but the rest of her body disfigured grotesquely with the sweetness that her eyes instilled. It's as if karma was collecting accounts for my '... bad thoughts from back then, when I used to be a man driven by pure morbid curiosity. His hips had widened excessively, and he grew so tall that he no longer seemed his age. His chest took on the volume of a pair of melons, making it inevitable to look at her face first. His rear and thighs bulged and even disrupted his walk. Her female attributes gained too much flesh, in such a short time, that even some of her parents barely recognized her. But she didn't flinch. And besides, she still feared boys, preferring dolls and had distanced herself from all her friends for obvious reasons. And the most serious part: she was still my princess.
As much as my wife and I felt embarrassed to talk about the subject, we avoided mentioning anything related to the proportions that her body had acquired just recently. But above all, we decided to ignore the numerous warnings of infantile behavior that was exacerbating with time. There was something strange about her, clearly, something that I more than anyone knew, but that both of us, in the end, encouraged. Something from which we were the only ones responsible, because everyone else had warned us, but we didn't want to listen. We had absurdly overprotected her.
'--Do you think... we should take her to a psychologist?' Elizabeth dared to suggest one afternoon on the sofa, while Betty was coloring in front of us on the carpet.
'Why do you ask that?' I said to her.
'Because I think my mother is right... and everyone else. Look at her, it's not normal. It's not normal for her to prefer staying home painting those silly magazines while all her classmates are enjoying the end-of-course dance.'
'Elizabeth, you know Betty is different...'
'Because we've made her different. And I love her, just as much as you do, but we can't keep pretending nothing's wrong.' - It was rare for me to see her cry, but that day she did-- Mauricio... It was our fault. My great effort until then had been to endure, never to fix my gaze on the body of my daughter or understand her as a woman, as she should have remained forever. But her naivety, one summer night, made me rethink things for the worse, to change radically our lives, to stop being exclusively her father. Elizabeth was not at home, she had gone to attend her sick father every weekend. The girl, Betty, preferred to stay at home with me, it was her favorite father! Despite our fragile circumstances, we had never spent an uncomfortable moment together. We loved playing board games, having pizza dinner, watching TV series... sometimes I would talk about my childhood, but always respecting each other's space. Until that night, when I was about to fall asleep, reclined on the marital bed that I used to share with Elizabeth, and my daughter had to knock on the door.
—Dad, are you already asleep? —I heard her say outside.
When I opened the door, Betty appeared in her usual purple pajamas.
—Not yet, princess, what's going on?
—It's because I came to show you something.
—Okay, fine. What is it about?
Then she introduced her arm into the room to turn on the light and immediately entered the rest of her body. I looked at her eyes at my height, we measured the same. When she had reached the center, just under the lamp, she asked me to go back to bed, and I did, sitting down with my eyes half-closed, tired from a hard Friday at work, wanting the day to end already.
—And well, princess, what are you coming to show me?
—Here it is... —she said, standing only a meter away from me, giving me her back.
I could see how her hair was sliding down her shoulders, I had to focus only on that, although beneath, her curves and protuberances were sparkling. That was my only job. And I was doing it well, but Betty turned her neck, like... searching for me with her gaze, she smiled mischievously and suddenly dropped her entire nightgown to the floor.
'—Be-Betty! What are you doing?!' I shouted.
I got up as quickly as I could, reached her, and knelt down to pick up her clothes and put them back on. But she took me by the shoulders and said:
'Papi, je, je, je, what's wrong? Calm down, I just want you to see this...'
'—Yes-yes but you don't have to undress!'
'It has to be like that. Come on, sit back down. Okay?'
I reluctantly returned to my seat, defeated by a girl, without saying another word. It hurt me, it destroyed me, contemplating her body just an inch from being naked. And it was because I had never seen her in underwear before. Both garments were dark. On her back, a horizontal elastic strip held two straps attached to her shoulders. Her night skin looked much whiter, smoother, and more vulnerable. The width of her torso decreased as my eyes descended and reached her waist. A pair of rolls wobbled on either side, and below it all expanded disproportionately. Two enormous balls of flesh that were her buttocks escaped from high-rise panties that were already quite large. Her thighs always looked huge, and it seemed implausible that they lacked roughness. My daughter was now a woman – when did I realize this, God?! – wearing the sexiest lace lingerie in the universe.
'Now listen, papi...'
She lifted both arms completely, took her hands in mid-air, and then began to jump up and down without lifting her feet off the floor. She only flexed and stretched her knees, and did it again and again, shaking all her mass in the process. Her long hair flamed, and the folds of her torso vibrated, and she looked magnificent. But there was something that abruptly cut off the rhythm of her movements. And it was that every time her enormous buttocks descended and bounced against the upper part of her... thighs, a loud sound of whipping was being emitted. It was like a series of lashes or thunder that left an echo deep within my soul.
—Are you listening, daddy? I'm applauding with my thighs!
—Be-Betty…
It didn't stop. She looked at me and smiled genuinely, as if what she was doing was something she could do in front of her father without consequences, without side effects. But my morality was corrupting. And the magnitude, the clear color, and the well-placed fat on her body only made it worse.
It was a matter of time, clearly. I knew from the beginning, when her development began to get out of hand. It was a matter of time before what was inevitable happened. I never wanted to see it, and I should have done something when I had the chance to prepare, to make a plan that would help me escape from something as big as this. But now I had nothing, just a morbid curiosity that I had buried years ago and that today was resurrecting, at the worst possible moment, behind my daughter.
—Wow, Betty, you're doing great! I said finally.
—Do you really like my applause, daddy? Do you like it?
I love it, darling! But... could you come a little closer so your father can see better?
She backed off without stopping, taking her butt to just centimeters from my face. I couldn't believe it. There was nothing bigger in the world. It was simply the best. I lifted my arms, which had been stuck to my knees all this time, and extended them to either side, grabbing her hips tightly. She started laughing. Her skin was extremely smooth and molded itself with just the touch of my fingers. I felt a terrible shiver, warning me of the worst: it was my own daughter, my princess!, wearing the BBW skins of my most twisted fantasies.
—Oh, oh, oh, daddy, what are you doing to my thighs?
My thumbnails got furious and sank in. My daughter reduced herself before my eyes to an immense mass of flesh, as warm as it was dangerous. I grabbed her panties, stretched them out, and I cut them with the dirty yolks of my fingers. I got lost. --What do you think, princess, if for tonight you stay to sleep with me, here, in my bed, as if you were your mom? To be continued...
From her birth until the day it happened, Betty remained an angel, devoid of any kind of malice and endowed with the ability to make a million times better life just by looking at her. She was the sweetest girl, with a face as perfect as her mother's. The truth is, it hurts to see a child grow up, especially if it's a little girl. You wish with all your soul that she remains a girl, pure, innocent... but it can't be that way forever. And maybe my biggest mistake was trying.
Betty reached puberty and her hips began to widen and her breasts acquired a new dimension, but at 14 years old, she still dressed up her dolls. At that age, the shapes of her body pointed directly to those of her mother, it would be her living image. But we never knew exactly when or why her physical development decided to take a different path. By 15, she only retained the beautiful face of the tender girl she once was, but the rest of her body disfigured grotesquely with the sweetness that her eyes instilled. It's as if karma was collecting accounts for my '... bad thoughts from back then, when I used to be a man driven by pure morbid curiosity. His hips had widened excessively, and he grew so tall that he no longer seemed his age. His chest took on the volume of a pair of melons, making it inevitable to look at her face first. His rear and thighs bulged and even disrupted his walk. Her female attributes gained too much flesh, in such a short time, that even some of her parents barely recognized her. But she didn't flinch. And besides, she still feared boys, preferring dolls and had distanced herself from all her friends for obvious reasons. And the most serious part: she was still my princess.
As much as my wife and I felt embarrassed to talk about the subject, we avoided mentioning anything related to the proportions that her body had acquired just recently. But above all, we decided to ignore the numerous warnings of infantile behavior that was exacerbating with time. There was something strange about her, clearly, something that I more than anyone knew, but that both of us, in the end, encouraged. Something from which we were the only ones responsible, because everyone else had warned us, but we didn't want to listen. We had absurdly overprotected her.
'--Do you think... we should take her to a psychologist?' Elizabeth dared to suggest one afternoon on the sofa, while Betty was coloring in front of us on the carpet.
'Why do you ask that?' I said to her.
'Because I think my mother is right... and everyone else. Look at her, it's not normal. It's not normal for her to prefer staying home painting those silly magazines while all her classmates are enjoying the end-of-course dance.'
'Elizabeth, you know Betty is different...'
'Because we've made her different. And I love her, just as much as you do, but we can't keep pretending nothing's wrong.' - It was rare for me to see her cry, but that day she did-- Mauricio... It was our fault. My great effort until then had been to endure, never to fix my gaze on the body of my daughter or understand her as a woman, as she should have remained forever. But her naivety, one summer night, made me rethink things for the worse, to change radically our lives, to stop being exclusively her father. Elizabeth was not at home, she had gone to attend her sick father every weekend. The girl, Betty, preferred to stay at home with me, it was her favorite father! Despite our fragile circumstances, we had never spent an uncomfortable moment together. We loved playing board games, having pizza dinner, watching TV series... sometimes I would talk about my childhood, but always respecting each other's space. Until that night, when I was about to fall asleep, reclined on the marital bed that I used to share with Elizabeth, and my daughter had to knock on the door.
—Dad, are you already asleep? —I heard her say outside.
When I opened the door, Betty appeared in her usual purple pajamas.
—Not yet, princess, what's going on?
—It's because I came to show you something.
—Okay, fine. What is it about?
Then she introduced her arm into the room to turn on the light and immediately entered the rest of her body. I looked at her eyes at my height, we measured the same. When she had reached the center, just under the lamp, she asked me to go back to bed, and I did, sitting down with my eyes half-closed, tired from a hard Friday at work, wanting the day to end already.
—And well, princess, what are you coming to show me?
—Here it is... —she said, standing only a meter away from me, giving me her back.
I could see how her hair was sliding down her shoulders, I had to focus only on that, although beneath, her curves and protuberances were sparkling. That was my only job. And I was doing it well, but Betty turned her neck, like... searching for me with her gaze, she smiled mischievously and suddenly dropped her entire nightgown to the floor.
'—Be-Betty! What are you doing?!' I shouted.
I got up as quickly as I could, reached her, and knelt down to pick up her clothes and put them back on. But she took me by the shoulders and said:
'Papi, je, je, je, what's wrong? Calm down, I just want you to see this...'
'—Yes-yes but you don't have to undress!'
'It has to be like that. Come on, sit back down. Okay?'
I reluctantly returned to my seat, defeated by a girl, without saying another word. It hurt me, it destroyed me, contemplating her body just an inch from being naked. And it was because I had never seen her in underwear before. Both garments were dark. On her back, a horizontal elastic strip held two straps attached to her shoulders. Her night skin looked much whiter, smoother, and more vulnerable. The width of her torso decreased as my eyes descended and reached her waist. A pair of rolls wobbled on either side, and below it all expanded disproportionately. Two enormous balls of flesh that were her buttocks escaped from high-rise panties that were already quite large. Her thighs always looked huge, and it seemed implausible that they lacked roughness. My daughter was now a woman – when did I realize this, God?! – wearing the sexiest lace lingerie in the universe.
'Now listen, papi...'
She lifted both arms completely, took her hands in mid-air, and then began to jump up and down without lifting her feet off the floor. She only flexed and stretched her knees, and did it again and again, shaking all her mass in the process. Her long hair flamed, and the folds of her torso vibrated, and she looked magnificent. But there was something that abruptly cut off the rhythm of her movements. And it was that every time her enormous buttocks descended and bounced against the upper part of her... thighs, a loud sound of whipping was being emitted. It was like a series of lashes or thunder that left an echo deep within my soul.
—Are you listening, daddy? I'm applauding with my thighs!
—Be-Betty…
It didn't stop. She looked at me and smiled genuinely, as if what she was doing was something she could do in front of her father without consequences, without side effects. But my morality was corrupting. And the magnitude, the clear color, and the well-placed fat on her body only made it worse.
It was a matter of time, clearly. I knew from the beginning, when her development began to get out of hand. It was a matter of time before what was inevitable happened. I never wanted to see it, and I should have done something when I had the chance to prepare, to make a plan that would help me escape from something as big as this. But now I had nothing, just a morbid curiosity that I had buried years ago and that today was resurrecting, at the worst possible moment, behind my daughter.
—Wow, Betty, you're doing great! I said finally.
—Do you really like my applause, daddy? Do you like it?
I love it, darling! But... could you come a little closer so your father can see better?
She backed off without stopping, taking her butt to just centimeters from my face. I couldn't believe it. There was nothing bigger in the world. It was simply the best. I lifted my arms, which had been stuck to my knees all this time, and extended them to either side, grabbing her hips tightly. She started laughing. Her skin was extremely smooth and molded itself with just the touch of my fingers. I felt a terrible shiver, warning me of the worst: it was my own daughter, my princess!, wearing the BBW skins of my most twisted fantasies.
—Oh, oh, oh, daddy, what are you doing to my thighs?
My thumbnails got furious and sank in. My daughter reduced herself before my eyes to an immense mass of flesh, as warm as it was dangerous. I grabbed her panties, stretched them out, and I cut them with the dirty yolks of my fingers. I got lost. --What do you think, princess, if for tonight you stay to sleep with me, here, in my bed, as if you were your mom? To be continued...
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