Her father

It's strange where life takes you sometimes. A day ago I was in my apartment, worried about foolish things like how large my video game backlog was getting. I never expected that I would end up back home, dressed in my sister's clothing, relaxed in her bed as I write an entry in her diary—or are you MY diary now? It's hard to say. Everything that's happened in the last couple of hours is very confusing. I should be getting used to being confused by now. I did wake up this morning transformed, but that's not what I want to write about. I want to write about what happened when I came home and my Dad caught me wearing my sister's panties.

The bedroom door crept open. I knew I was caught. I knew there was no way to explain who I was, or what I was doing, so I froze. I froze, wearing nothing but a pair of tight pink panties that accented my pert bottom. I should have at least covered my breasts, but it's a bit late for hindsight.

"Jessie, what are you doing ho—?" My father stepped through the door, his words catching in his throat as he saw my practically naked body. "Who are you?" He asked.

"I—" I stammered. I couldn't say my name. A lie would be better than saying 'I'm Kacie, your child', but I couldn't lie—not to my father. I took a step forward, my eyes welling up with tears. I don't envy anyone that has to come out to their parents. What I was going through was hard enough for me, and I had magic on my side.

My father looked into my tearful eyes and I could see the words forming on his tongue. There was recognition there, but it was like he was seeing me through a cataract lens. "You're..." He searched for my name. "K—Kacie? No, that's not right..." He muttered, looking to the floor.

"Dad, please don't freak—"

"Why can't I say your name? You're...my daughter, Kacie..." He stared at me again, puzzling through what he was seeing. "You're a girl. Why are you a girl? What's going on?"

I sat on the edge of the bed and explained. I told him about The Trickster and the book. I told him about my conversation with Rabbit and the precise instructions I was supposed to follow. He didn't interrupt or ask me anything while I talked. I'm not sure how much of it he believed, but he couldn't argue with my exposed body seated in front of him or the fact that when he looked at me he somehow knew who I was.

"I'm glad you decided to come here, sweetie." He said with fatherly sincerity. "The thought of my little girl running around with a curse on her head—it's too much! If anything happens here, at least you'll have me to protect you."

"I appreciate it, but could you maybe not call me your little girl? It's...disconcerting." I told him. To be honest, being called sweetie bothered me at the time too, but, hey, I'm not a complete bitch. My dad's concern was heartfelt. There was no reason to throw it back in his face.

"But you always loved being called my little gi—" He looked around the room in bewilderment and then back at me. "No, that wasn't you. My mind feels like it's being stretched out like spaghetti." He groaned and pinched his temples.

"It's the curse, Dad." I didn't know what might happen if he started believing I'd always been his daughter, but it felt an awful lot like an ending creeping up on me. I rushed across the room and grabbed my father by his ears. I made him look me in the eyes. "I am not your daughter!" I shouted at him. "I'm your child, but you can't see me as your daughter! Focus!"

He grabbed my wrists, lowered my hands, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Kacie. I know who you're supposed to be, but for a second there I saw you growing up as a girl, admittedly still a bit of a tomboy, but a girl nonetheless. I'm not sure if I can keep those thoughts at bay. How can I look at you and see anything but a—" The word wouldn't come, but the way he considered my shape said it all. "Maybe you should get dressed. A proper young lady wouldn't bare herself like this to her father."

He had a point. I hadn't even given my topless state a second thought, but once he spoke to me in that familiar disapproving tone, my shame boiled to the surface. And then I did something that no person under the Trickster's curse should ever do. I didn't think about what I was doing. I just threw on the first shirt I could find. The moment it was on I was overcome with a wave of nausea. My skin prickled. Something was off. I edged towards the mirror. A baby-faced reflection of myself, with pinchable, dimpled cheeks, stared back at me. My hair had turned completely black and was styled in a pair of short, cutesy pigtails. But the real kicker was the crop top I just happened to put on. Pink, feminine script was emblazoned across my perky breasts, marking me as DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL.

"Kacie!" My father roared. "What's wrong with you? Are you trying to tease me!?" He spun me around, grasped my shoulders with his workman's hands, and scowled at me. "How do you expect me to feel when you tell me that you're not my daughter—that you're not my little girl—and then you go and wear this!?" He wrung the cotton sleeve in his fist. "It barely covers your pretty little tits. Do you know what kind of message you're sending? Do you know what your mother would think if she walked in right now?"

My cheeks were aflame. The accusation was bad enough, but I was starting to notice that my father was much more of a man than I ever gave him credit for. A short beard hid what could be the chiseled looks of Captain America and his thin knitted sweater clung to his strong chest. I didn't even know I was attracted to men until I was **** to stare into his steely eyes. I was stunned and squeaked out the best response I could muster. "Yes, Daddy."

"I figured as much." He stroked my blushing cheek. "Girls your age are always asking for trouble. The law says you're an adult, but you're still an immature little cocktease at heart. You know exactly what your tight teen body does to a man."

His words made me tremble. "But, Daddy—," I tried to object, to tell him I wasn't some slutty eighteen-year-old, but he didn't want to hear it.

"Shh!" His thumb pressed against my cherry lips. "I should have seen the signs earlier—showing me your pierced nipples, the way you encouraged me to not think of you as my daughter. You had a very clear message from the start. You want me to see you for what you truly are—a wanton, incestuous slut!"

He caught me! Not all of it had been my doing, but the lust I felt for my father was a **** and I was addicted. My suggestive, hazy gaze made my intentions clear—I wanted him. I wanted to be his little girl. I wanted to feel his body pressed against mine. I needed to show him he was right. I opened my mouth and drew his thumb between my silken lips. That little tease was all he needed. He wrenched me by my hair, pulled my face close to his, and kissed me hard. And that's how he held me, his tongue probing into my eager mouth as he clutched my hip and pushed me towards the bed.

The soft covers enveloped me as I bounced on the mattress springs. I offered no resistance, spreading my thighs for the man that raised me as he jerked the pink panties down my lissom legs. He was unbridled in his need for me, the sight of my virgin slit spurring him on, but even in his frenzy, he showed experience. He never fumbled as he unlooped his belt and smoothly dropped his slacks. I gawked at the stiff prick held in his rugged hand. I had done that to him. I had made my father hard with desire for me.

"Tell me you need it, Kacie!" He growled as he drew my hips to his and pinned me to the bed. "Tell me that only your Daddy's cock can make you a woman!"

"I need you, Daddy!" I moaned, **** for his touch. He obliged, pressing his hand against the soft underside of my breast, kneading it until my back arched above the mattress. The bulb of his shaft taunted me as I felt his weight upon my body. "I need your cock! Only yours! Please fuck me, Daddy!"

With one fluid thrust, he was inside of me. My legs coiled around his waist. "Oh, baby girl! This is so wrong, but you feel so good! Daddy needs you too!" His piston hips drove me into the bed, made me feel like I was sinking. I grasped at the bedsheets, balled them up in my fists. They were my life preserver in a sea of arousal. He was not gentle, nor slow with me. He didn't care about my pleasure, or that it was my first time. He was an animal, looking to satisfy a primal need. And perhaps because of The Trickster's magic or the fact that I wanted him so badly, that was all I needed.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I'm so close, Kacie! I can't pull out—!" He grunted and contorted my body, folded me like a matchbook, pressed my knees to my breasts, unyielding in his need for me.

"Daddy, please! It's okay, you can—" I didn't need to finish my breathy plea. The warmth of his cum inside of me spread quickly. I quivered as he emptied his seed, the sweat of his body dripping over me. I knew I was supposed to feel something too, but my forbidden youthful form was too much for my Daddy. He stabbed at me with his softened shaft a few more times and then collapsed at my side.

He looked at me then with love, like a father looks at his daughter, kissed my cheek and said, "I knew you were Daddy's little girl."

Pretty hot story, right?

I know I left out some details here and there, so for the sake of completion, here goes: My sister's room is now my room. It turns out that when I magically became eighteen again, she became my age. I haven't talked to her yet, but considering my Daddy's altered memories, I don't think there will be a problem. That, unfortunately, means that I'll be going back to high school on Monday. I remember everything from my former life though, so maybe it won't be so bad.

Luckily, I didn't end up with any unwanted passengers as a result of my first time with Daddy. And yes, it is only my first time. We haven't made any plans for round two yet, but we do like to steal glances and gropes in the hallway when Mom isn't looking. I think it's just a matter of time before our lust gets the better of us. Just writing this has me all worked up. I can't wait to be Daddy's little incestuous slut again.

That's all there is. I've never written in a diary before. What comes after the denouement? Perhaps...

THE END?