When the diagnosis revealed my gender change virus variant, my body became a blend of unique experiences every day. The daily battles to fasten my bra turned into rituals I faced with patience and skill, since I now possessed tremendous D-cup breasts that weren't easy to hide while putting on a thong that stuck to my huge crack and the sensation of it getting lodged between my buttocks became my inseparable allies, marking the singularity of my new physiology. At first, I wanted to fight this femininity but simply couldn't and ended up letting myself be consumed. I left school and distanced myself from friends, a decision surprisingly supported by my father. At home, I took on responsibilities, even giving up external cleaning help. My days filled with makeup tutorials and cooking, exploring not only external expression but also connection with my new identity.
Facing the mirror, battles with my bra combined with moments of intimate reflection. I had to accept my reality, now between my legs I had a pussy...Each relaxing bath where I contemplated my body with amazement and acceptance, appreciating the femininity that had emerged from this unusual transformation. The sensation of water caressing my skin became a constant reminder of my new reality. However, in the midst of this transformation, a persistent thought took root in my mind. A secret, like a shadow, began to weigh on my heart. This thought added an unexpected complexity to my story. I lived all my life alone with my father after my mom left when I was younger. Although I saw her occasionally during vacations, my daily routine transpired alongside my dad. He took many of my mother's clothes from blouses to dresses. Since I have memory, he had been single, without dates since my elementary school age. Now, with my voluptuous body full of curves with huge tits and a well-formed ass, things became a bit strange.
In public, people assumed we were a couple, not family. My dad and I used to laugh about it at first, but over time, I started questioning whether we really seemed like an ideal couple despite my 26 years and his 47, which wasn't a bad idea after all. The tired expression on his face, a mix of depression and loneliness due to his long period without a partner, prompted me to want to alleviate his burden. I noticed that since the gender virus arrived in our lives, my father seemed happier having that female company he had been lacking so much. Although initially they were just assumptions, over time I started wondering if I could be the key to changing his tired expression into one of happiness and fullness. Could I be the company he needed so much? Would I be able to alleviate that feeling of loneliness he had carried with him for so long? These complex thoughts led me to explore my own desires, wanting to be more than just his daughter. I fantasized about being the companion who would change his tired expression into one of happiness and fullness. However, I was also aware of the limits and complexities that this fantasy could bring to our relationship.
In the wake of my emotions and desires, I found myself at a crossroads between reality and the possibilities that only existed in my dreams Many nights, while fantasizing about being more than just his family, I also glimpsed the possibility of filling the void in his life as his companion and lover. These thoughts added an additional layer of complexity to our relationship, leading me to explore the desire to be something more for him. These complex thoughts led me to explore my own desires, wanting to be more than just his daughter. I fantasized about being the partner who would change his tired expression into one of happiness and fullness. However, I was also aware of the limits and complexities that this fantasy could bring to our relationship.
As time went on, I realized I wanted to express my feelings towards my paternal figure in a subtle, indirect way, without having to directly address the complexity of my fantasies. In each opportunity, I tried to weave underlying messages, small signals that would reflect my desire to be more than just his daughter. During our outings, I carefully chose my attire and sought occasions to praise his appearance, trying to convey a more intimate tone in our interactions. I shared laughs, anecdotes, and complicit moments, hoping each gesture would strengthen the connection between us. At night, while cooking or watching movies, I looked for excuses to be closer, perhaps a subtle touch of hands or a prolonged hug. However, despite my efforts, the barrier between being his softcore daughter and being something more seemed to remain unbreakable.
My attempts to leave clues in their thoughts were unsuccessful. The distance between our identities remained evident, and although I noticed happiness on their face, I couldn't determine if it was the result of my presence or simply general company. As my efforts met invisible walls, I debated between hope and resignation. Each lost opportunity turned into a reminder of the complexity of our bonds and the difficulty of expressing what was latent in my heart. Frustration and impatience began to cloud my judgment. As phase 2 unfolded, I found myself invading my paternal figure's privacy without hesitation. I reviewed their messages, social media expressions, seeking clues or signs that would confirm my desires. Each invasive act was driven by the hope of discovering some indication of reciprocity, but I only found the reality of their daily life.
In my home, I decided to adopt more revealing outfits, challenging the modesty norms with the hope of awakening something more in him. I dressed with audacity, seeking to capture his attention and provoke some comment, but his responses remained unshakeable. My attempts to break down barriers seemed only to increase the emotional distance between us. Although my suggestive attire and invasion of his privacy were desperate attempts to reveal my feelings, the reality was that each effort seemed to push us further apart. Frustration mixed with fear of having crossed boundaries, and the sense of loneliness persisted. In my search for connection, I realized I had lost sight of the importance of open communication and mutual respect. The emotional journey I initiated became a painful reminder that love and understanding cannot be built on invasive acts and the absence of limits.
ArraySo one day, frustrated and tired of his rejection, I made a move, intercepted him in the kitchen and opened my blouse, showing off my large breasts, asking if he liked what he saw, my mother had never stood out for her breasts and I looked great with big, juicy and milkable ones. Between the grimaces, I told him that I wanted to make him feel better, I wanted him to have someone to truly love and be happy with, I wanted to be someone more for him than just the bittersweet memories he had of me. He simply replied that you're beautiful but not the right one. Angry, I went to fill my room. But I wasn't ready to give up, under the mantle of darkness my plan was now to make him have sex with me by force, Just when I was about to fall asleep he entered my room and began apologizing and expressing that if it was a beautiful woman and also apologized for not considering my feelings, I listened to him for several minutes until he said open your legs I'm going to make you mine
In my mind I was praying for him to fuck me, to put it all in until the end, I wanted to feel it inside of me, I wanted to feel like it was entering and retreating, I wanted to be his woman, his companion, his lover, his tit, I desired it so much that... he ripped my blouse to sleep leaving my enormous tits exposed, he did it very masculinely exercising force afterwards starting to suck and eat my tits, it seemed like a baby waiting for the cum to come out of them eagerly since he hadn't been with a woman in a long time and even less one with big breasts like me I told him calmly, 'it won't come out, haha'
Without waiting for it to expect its glans, it started inserting itself into my vagina, began to sink its penis slowly and very slowly without stopping until I was full, having inserted everything that my vagina had dilated at that moment, staying there for a few seconds, making those seconds a delight that I will never forget. My head had thrown back with my eyes tightly closed and my mouth open in a silent scream that never came out and only when it started to withdraw it from me just as slowly as it had inserted itself, could I exhale the air causing a delicious moan.
Navigating my interior until I stopped, he introduced his penis to the bottom and exploded like a volcano, pouring an enormous amount of semen into me, filling me completely inside. We looked at each other with our faces contorted, smiled, and laughed, giving each other a deep, sweaty kiss, still with his penis inside me. Soon, he pulled out his penis from my interior and accompanied by his semen flowed into the deepest part of my vagina as a sign of my devotion to him; I collected it with my finger and brought it to my mouth... It was our first time doing so, and it was quite uncomfortable, I think we both weren't sure if it was something correct or not, but after the first orgasm, I knew I had made the right decision, although he promised it would be our first and last time, fortunately a promise neither of us respected. Sex, orgasms, showers together, simply feeling him inside me, kissing, and hugging, everything was perfect. Despite failed attempts and initial discomfort, I discovered that my bold strategy had taken effect. The complicity between us grew, and finally, I crossed the threshold of being more than just his son. I was happier than ever to have become the new wife of my paternal figure. Our bond transformed into a deeper and more significant connection. Exploring together all the limits of conventional sex, having anal sex... having a hard penis in such an intimate place that made us so close, now we shared a level of intimacy that only existed in my boldest fantasies before.
Proud of each other, we could openly say that we were a couple. Society could see us as a couple, and most importantly, I was the woman of my father's figure, and he, with pride, could assert that he was my man. This change marked a new phase in our relationship, where complicity and love flourished, defying conventions but filling our lives with happiness that both of us had longed for.
I anticipate that when my mother comes to visit me during this year's vacation, her reaction will be one of surprise. I can't help but reflect on how she'll perceive the transformation in my life and, in particular, the relationship I've formed with such an exceptional man.
I won't say anything, I'll just translate:
I've never told her that I'm contracting this virus. Uncertainty floats in the air as I prepare for her arrival. How will my mother assimilate our new reality, especially considering the notable evolution in my connection with this man who has brought so much joy to my life? Until she arrived and entered the house, and we saw her catching us fiercely in the kitchen. My tits were bouncing while Dad was screwing me hard, and I was screaming like a slut. When we realized her presence, we stopped and explained everything to her. She simply couldn't digest that her son now carried such large breasts, bigger than hers, instead of worrying, she felt jealous that her now-daughter had a colossal body designed by the gods for carnal desires. And if that wasn't enough, we revealed that we would get married the following month because I was pregnant. All the orgasms inside my uterus had given fruit. She simply couldn't believe it and while I put on my bra, my tits fired up, evidence of how pregnant I'd left myself with Dad. So she had no choice but to resign herself to leaving our lives.
Facing the mirror, battles with my bra combined with moments of intimate reflection. I had to accept my reality, now between my legs I had a pussy...Each relaxing bath where I contemplated my body with amazement and acceptance, appreciating the femininity that had emerged from this unusual transformation. The sensation of water caressing my skin became a constant reminder of my new reality. However, in the midst of this transformation, a persistent thought took root in my mind. A secret, like a shadow, began to weigh on my heart. This thought added an unexpected complexity to my story. I lived all my life alone with my father after my mom left when I was younger. Although I saw her occasionally during vacations, my daily routine transpired alongside my dad. He took many of my mother's clothes from blouses to dresses. Since I have memory, he had been single, without dates since my elementary school age. Now, with my voluptuous body full of curves with huge tits and a well-formed ass, things became a bit strange.In public, people assumed we were a couple, not family. My dad and I used to laugh about it at first, but over time, I started questioning whether we really seemed like an ideal couple despite my 26 years and his 47, which wasn't a bad idea after all. The tired expression on his face, a mix of depression and loneliness due to his long period without a partner, prompted me to want to alleviate his burden. I noticed that since the gender virus arrived in our lives, my father seemed happier having that female company he had been lacking so much. Although initially they were just assumptions, over time I started wondering if I could be the key to changing his tired expression into one of happiness and fullness. Could I be the company he needed so much? Would I be able to alleviate that feeling of loneliness he had carried with him for so long? These complex thoughts led me to explore my own desires, wanting to be more than just his daughter. I fantasized about being the companion who would change his tired expression into one of happiness and fullness. However, I was also aware of the limits and complexities that this fantasy could bring to our relationship.In the wake of my emotions and desires, I found myself at a crossroads between reality and the possibilities that only existed in my dreams Many nights, while fantasizing about being more than just his family, I also glimpsed the possibility of filling the void in his life as his companion and lover. These thoughts added an additional layer of complexity to our relationship, leading me to explore the desire to be something more for him. These complex thoughts led me to explore my own desires, wanting to be more than just his daughter. I fantasized about being the partner who would change his tired expression into one of happiness and fullness. However, I was also aware of the limits and complexities that this fantasy could bring to our relationship.As time went on, I realized I wanted to express my feelings towards my paternal figure in a subtle, indirect way, without having to directly address the complexity of my fantasies. In each opportunity, I tried to weave underlying messages, small signals that would reflect my desire to be more than just his daughter. During our outings, I carefully chose my attire and sought occasions to praise his appearance, trying to convey a more intimate tone in our interactions. I shared laughs, anecdotes, and complicit moments, hoping each gesture would strengthen the connection between us. At night, while cooking or watching movies, I looked for excuses to be closer, perhaps a subtle touch of hands or a prolonged hug. However, despite my efforts, the barrier between being his softcore daughter and being something more seemed to remain unbreakable.My attempts to leave clues in their thoughts were unsuccessful. The distance between our identities remained evident, and although I noticed happiness on their face, I couldn't determine if it was the result of my presence or simply general company. As my efforts met invisible walls, I debated between hope and resignation. Each lost opportunity turned into a reminder of the complexity of our bonds and the difficulty of expressing what was latent in my heart. Frustration and impatience began to cloud my judgment. As phase 2 unfolded, I found myself invading my paternal figure's privacy without hesitation. I reviewed their messages, social media expressions, seeking clues or signs that would confirm my desires. Each invasive act was driven by the hope of discovering some indication of reciprocity, but I only found the reality of their daily life.In my home, I decided to adopt more revealing outfits, challenging the modesty norms with the hope of awakening something more in him. I dressed with audacity, seeking to capture his attention and provoke some comment, but his responses remained unshakeable. My attempts to break down barriers seemed only to increase the emotional distance between us. Although my suggestive attire and invasion of his privacy were desperate attempts to reveal my feelings, the reality was that each effort seemed to push us further apart. Frustration mixed with fear of having crossed boundaries, and the sense of loneliness persisted. In my search for connection, I realized I had lost sight of the importance of open communication and mutual respect. The emotional journey I initiated became a painful reminder that love and understanding cannot be built on invasive acts and the absence of limits.ArraySo one day, frustrated and tired of his rejection, I made a move, intercepted him in the kitchen and opened my blouse, showing off my large breasts, asking if he liked what he saw, my mother had never stood out for her breasts and I looked great with big, juicy and milkable ones. Between the grimaces, I told him that I wanted to make him feel better, I wanted him to have someone to truly love and be happy with, I wanted to be someone more for him than just the bittersweet memories he had of me. He simply replied that you're beautiful but not the right one. Angry, I went to fill my room. But I wasn't ready to give up, under the mantle of darkness my plan was now to make him have sex with me by force, Just when I was about to fall asleep he entered my room and began apologizing and expressing that if it was a beautiful woman and also apologized for not considering my feelings, I listened to him for several minutes until he said open your legs I'm going to make you mine
In my mind I was praying for him to fuck me, to put it all in until the end, I wanted to feel it inside of me, I wanted to feel like it was entering and retreating, I wanted to be his woman, his companion, his lover, his tit, I desired it so much that... he ripped my blouse to sleep leaving my enormous tits exposed, he did it very masculinely exercising force afterwards starting to suck and eat my tits, it seemed like a baby waiting for the cum to come out of them eagerly since he hadn't been with a woman in a long time and even less one with big breasts like me I told him calmly, 'it won't come out, haha'Without waiting for it to expect its glans, it started inserting itself into my vagina, began to sink its penis slowly and very slowly without stopping until I was full, having inserted everything that my vagina had dilated at that moment, staying there for a few seconds, making those seconds a delight that I will never forget. My head had thrown back with my eyes tightly closed and my mouth open in a silent scream that never came out and only when it started to withdraw it from me just as slowly as it had inserted itself, could I exhale the air causing a delicious moan.Navigating my interior until I stopped, he introduced his penis to the bottom and exploded like a volcano, pouring an enormous amount of semen into me, filling me completely inside. We looked at each other with our faces contorted, smiled, and laughed, giving each other a deep, sweaty kiss, still with his penis inside me. Soon, he pulled out his penis from my interior and accompanied by his semen flowed into the deepest part of my vagina as a sign of my devotion to him; I collected it with my finger and brought it to my mouth... It was our first time doing so, and it was quite uncomfortable, I think we both weren't sure if it was something correct or not, but after the first orgasm, I knew I had made the right decision, although he promised it would be our first and last time, fortunately a promise neither of us respected. Sex, orgasms, showers together, simply feeling him inside me, kissing, and hugging, everything was perfect. Despite failed attempts and initial discomfort, I discovered that my bold strategy had taken effect. The complicity between us grew, and finally, I crossed the threshold of being more than just his son. I was happier than ever to have become the new wife of my paternal figure. Our bond transformed into a deeper and more significant connection. Exploring together all the limits of conventional sex, having anal sex... having a hard penis in such an intimate place that made us so close, now we shared a level of intimacy that only existed in my boldest fantasies before.Proud of each other, we could openly say that we were a couple. Society could see us as a couple, and most importantly, I was the woman of my father's figure, and he, with pride, could assert that he was my man. This change marked a new phase in our relationship, where complicity and love flourished, defying conventions but filling our lives with happiness that both of us had longed for.I anticipate that when my mother comes to visit me during this year's vacation, her reaction will be one of surprise. I can't help but reflect on how she'll perceive the transformation in my life and, in particular, the relationship I've formed with such an exceptional man.I won't say anything, I'll just translate:I've never told her that I'm contracting this virus. Uncertainty floats in the air as I prepare for her arrival. How will my mother assimilate our new reality, especially considering the notable evolution in my connection with this man who has brought so much joy to my life? Until she arrived and entered the house, and we saw her catching us fiercely in the kitchen. My tits were bouncing while Dad was screwing me hard, and I was screaming like a slut. When we realized her presence, we stopped and explained everything to her. She simply couldn't digest that her son now carried such large breasts, bigger than hers, instead of worrying, she felt jealous that her now-daughter had a colossal body designed by the gods for carnal desires. And if that wasn't enough, we revealed that we would get married the following month because I was pregnant. All the orgasms inside my uterus had given fruit. She simply couldn't believe it and while I put on my bra, my tits fired up, evidence of how pregnant I'd left myself with Dad. So she had no choice but to resign herself to leaving our lives.
2 comentários - Le quite el puesto a mi madre ahora soy la mujer de mi padre