In the Shadow of Young Girls in Bloom (Devilla Roche and Greg Grey)

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File, Gray, Greg, m00001-j
Memory Implants via Aristov, Akiinia, Operative 0445
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The following entries are to supplement other File Contents: Trophy

"Yes I know, I know..." I smile, despite myself, "You don't need your waffles cut up anymore...But I'm allowed to do this for my little girl on our one weekend together, aren't I?'

In the morning light, Linny shakes her head and smiles tolerantly at me - her dumb old dad - letting me continue. Leaning over with my knife and fork at the table, I realize it had years since she needed her food cut...but I like doing it anyway. Since the divorce, I only get to see her this one weekend a month. I can spoil my own daughter a little bit, right?

"So... I hear you quit dance. But...Cheerleading tryouts this week, huh?" I ask, finishing up her first waffle and reaching for the syrup, "Nervous?"

I love my Daddy very much...and since the divorce from my mother, well, I have missed him very much....we've gotten closer, much closer and I get to have a weekend a month, but it's not enough, so when he picked me up, I gave him a big hug and then he took me to his wonderful new house that has just about everything in it...

Breakfast, Saturday morning...Daddy's homemade waffles...

Daddy said:

"So... I hear you quit dance. But...Cheerleading tryouts this week, huh?" I ask, finishing up her first waffle and reaching for the syrup, "Nervous?"

Click to expand...

"Yea. Mom wasn't too happy about me quitting. I was real good at dance and, well, I think it prepared me for cheerleading. Fancy, my friend, said I'd be good too and well, I wanted to be with her hanging out so I went to the tryouts."

I watched as Daddy placed syrup all over the waffles....and then I pulled back my long hair from my face and opened my mouth waiting for Daddy to place a piece of waffle in my mouth, which he did happily...

~chewing~

"Nervous? Me, heck no Daddy. I'll make it."

Ooh the uniforms, tell him about the uniforms...

I grabbed my Daddy's right arm and said...
"Daddy, the uniform, the uniform. You've just got to see me in it. Next month I'll bring it with me when I make the Cheerleading squad. Oh, it will look so cute on me. I'll have to try it out for you. I know how you love it when I try things out in front of you. Maybe next time I'll pretend to be a model on a runway. I know that my Daddy loves that too."

I open my mouth for another piece of waffle...

"Now, sweetie," I suggest, in my best fatherly tone, "don't be too disappointed if you don't make the team. You can always do something else for afterschool...maybe the clarinet again? Here, open up..."

As I slide another forkful of waffle into her mouth, I look at her with a crooked smile, trying to hide my concern. Since the beginning of this school year, Linny has seemed to drift away from the more scholarly pursuits her mom and I had always encouraged in her. Never really a student to begin with, she's now taking even less interest in her studies, or music, or the "smart" friends we liked her hanging out with in the past.

Now it was makeup, clothes...boys. Well, she hadn't really had a 'boyfriend' yet, but I knew the day was coming. And it was the mall, or girls like Fancy...or cheerleading, now, obviously.

"Maybe you can take eating lessons," I joke, "learn how to feed yourself..." my quip gets a giggle out of her as she takes another forkful of breakfast. This little ritual of ours, me feeding her, ever since when she was a toddler - it wasn't something we did often anymore, and it was mostly just for fun. I was surprised she even tolerated it any more, being "so grown up"...but it was actually she who insisted on it, more often than not, and I was more than happy to have little moments like this with my girl.

"But I know, honey, that you'll make it," I assure her, "just try your best." Another mouthful of food, this one for me. "I'm sure I'll see you model your uniform next month..."

That gets a mischievous smile out of Linny, and I think back with chagrin on last month's visit. I had dropped her and Aimee (one of my daughter's 'smart' friends that I liked to encourage her spending time with) at the mall, having given her a little money to spend on school clothes. What I got later, on our return home, was a giddy little fashion show from the two girls. They had bought more or less the same clothes, but the effect was completely different between the two of them. Aimee, next to my daughter, looked like a chubby little girl in the too-short, too-tight shirts and skirts and shorts that they had picked up were now parading in front of me. Linny, on the other hand...wow. When had my daughter grown up like this?

Later, after I had fed the girls dinner and Aimee got on her bike back home, Linny wanted to try her clothes on again and gave me a private show. I feigned disinterest at this point, pretending to just play on my tablet. My daughter...she shouldn't be learning that flaunting her developing body is a way to get attention...especially from her father.

Finally, it got late, and i sent her to bed...and spent the rest of the night looking at porn.

"A-a-anyway..." I stammer, bringing myself back to the moment, we've got the whole weekend together...but we should talk about your grades..."

"Clarinet?? Oh Daddy, I'm just no good at that. I'll make the cheerleading squad, don't you worry."

Does he have any idea of the things that my mouth can do?? I think he does. I am getting so much better at kissing boys then at playing the clarinet....and gosh I love the thought of having sex, sucking a boys cock, umm....maybe I don't need to tell Daddy that I also like girls, but my mouth has better things it wants to do...at that thought I could feel my inner place down by my own pussy get all warm and fuzzy...that's been happening a lot lately and boy do I love the feeling...it was making me feel good all over then Daddy ruined the moment when he said he wanted to talk about my grades...

So I did what nay spoiled girl would do....I folded my arms and pouted...

"Oh pooh Daddy, did you have to bring that up?? I don't want to talk about my grades."

Crap, I couldn't help it. My eyes bugged out when she did that, crossed her arms under her chest, making her breasts - womanly breasts, not the budding breasts of a young girl - bulge out of her too-tight tube top, something she bought last month. Worse, she saw it, and I may be imagining it but I thought I saw a flash in her eyes...and now a crooked little smile in that pout.

"I kn-know you d-don't want to talk about them..." I say, recovering and finding my 'father' voice, "but we have to. I don't like a lot of the things I see these days, sweetie. Your grades, some of the new friends your mom tells me you're hanging out with, your clothes..." I am trying to sound stern. "This outfit, for example...it's way too small on you..."

"Oh Daddy, you sound like Mom now, gee. I happen to like this outfit on me and I think it makes me look cute," my reaction was still pouty...I crossed my leg over one leg and decided I not to ask for another piece of waffle...I was losing my hunger and need to have Daddy feed me real quick....

"You know Daddy, I'm not a little girl anymore," I said in protest, "I'm a young woman and, well, my body's changing."

Then I stand up, bend slightly towards my father, and point to my tits...
"Like these, I can't help that they're this big. Who knew they could be bigger than Mom's, way bigger than hers. Just because they're big means I have to wear something different? Meanwhile, all the other girls, including all the flat-chested girls at school wear shirts like this one."

Then I cross my arms again in my attempt to protest....

"I-I know you're body's changing, Linny," I say, reddening - this is suddenly not my comfort zone, "I know y-you're not a little girl...but I have to insist, n-not at school, okay? Outfits like this?"

She's looking at me through narrowed eyes, still leaned over a bit. I swallow dryly, avoiding looking at her body.

"I...I just worry about you. I don't want boys...and men...looking at you the wrong way, getting the wrong idea." I note her clothes again: tight midriff-bearing white tube-top, ultra-mini khaki shorts, block-heeled sandals. There's just so...much. So much of her showing.

"Around here, at home, you can wear whatever you want," I continue (wait, should I be saying this?) "You look nice in outfits like this. But at school - please, Linny - will you promise me you'll cover up more?"

Sometimes, I'm a bit slow, I know it....I'm not the smartest girl in school...maybe one of the prettiest...I think I'm even prettier than Cathy Smothers, and shapelier too....as I was saying, my Daddy, what he just said, is it possible, hmmm? He would rather I dress like this behind closed doors, here in his house, rather than at school?? Oh my, I hadn't thought that... Is it possible?? Is he attracted to me, his own...daughter??

I think I'm too embarrassed to say anything...besides, what if I'm wrong? I suppose I could, well, test him in some way...with that I decide that rather continue to push back and get into some argument with him, I think I'll give in...besides, there are ways for me to test him....the more I do that, the more I'll be sure, right?

I place my arms around my Daddy, my bosom squished into his face and say, "I'll cover up more, I promise, but you'll need to keep your promise."

I look down at him as he looks up at me, his face barely above my deep cleavage...he looks at my funny...
"That you'll let me wear whatever I want here in the house, deal?"

<uuurk!>

As she sits in my lap, hugs my head affectionately to her, I am all at once reminded of how "not little" my little girl is. A C-cup, already, I know from her laundry. The bras I had to buy her last month were 28C's. She's a getting to be a woman, in some ways - but still a kid in so many others.

"I'll cover up more, I promise, but you'll need to keep your promise...That you'll let me wear whatever I want here in the house, deal?"

Click to expand...

"D-deal..." I agree quickly, pulling my head and face back from her a-bit-too-firm-for-my-comfort embrace, "We'll go out this afternoon to shop for some appropriate school clothes..." Her consent is halfhearted, but she listens to me intently. Seated on my lap, she's looking down at me innocently and adoringly, unaware (I hope) of the effect her proximity is having on my concentration. I don't want her getting used to using her quickly-developing chest (or her legs, or her hips, or her anything, for that matter) as a distraction, or a tool to get what she wants.

"Now, weren't we talking about your grades?" I continue, pressing on, "You have that paper for Mr. Waldman to do this weekend, for social studies." She squirms a little in my lap, crossing her long, dancer's legs and bringing back her pout; I know she's not looking forward to this paper - she's been putting off working on it for weeks, her mother tells me. I make a quick decision. "Another deal - if you get at least a 'B', we'll go out next month, shopping for fun stuff, clothes for the weekends..." I offer, "...get an 'A', and you can pick the stores."

That gets her to smile again...

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File, Gray, Greg, m00001-j
Memory Implants via Aristov, Akilinia, Operative 0445
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Entry #2

The following entries are to supplement other File Contents: Trophy

------> One Month Later <------

I got myself into this I guess, I think, as I passively browse through the racks. I had made a promise to Linny, last month, that if she did well on her Social Studies paper that I'd take her out shopping. I promised her four outfits, but I didn't think this would turn out to be such a long undertaking. When I said four outfits, I figured four tops, four bottoms, maybe a dress or two, and that'd be it. Silly me. She's in her glory, enthusiastically flitting and bopping all over the store, looking at everything from clothes to accessories to linger-...uh, underwear...to cosmetics and jewelry.

She'd wanted to do this trip alone, with just me, and not bring one of her friends along (like she normally would). I thought that was nice. But when she chose this store to start at, I almost balked. Since the divorce, money's been tight with me. I get a little monthly stipend from my ex-wife, and the job pays for the basic necessities, but there's not a lot of extra cash left over. So - when Linny chose this place instead of the lower-end chains or cheaper department stores...well, I had to suck it up. She DID do well on her paper, and I HAD promised...

An 'A-'...that's pretty good! Really good, in fact, for Linny. I couldn't remember the last time she'd done so well on a paper. It surprised me, actually, how well she'd done, when she came in to my place last night waving it around and giggling. Last month, as she was writing it on Sunday, she had let me read through what she'd done - and I had my worries. Her grammar is terrible, her writing is juvenile, her facts dubious. I didn't have high hopes for her "Life in an Inuit Village" report that she was going to hand in that upcoming week. But, yep...an 'A-'; I looked over the corrected paper myself, to be sure. Mr. Waldman had been, on closer inspection, pretty lenient - very lenient, in fact - but an 'A-' is an 'A-'...

...and she bragged to me, too, about some other good results. A 'B+' on a science test and lab report (with help from her lab partner) - great! I was proud! Mr. Chapman said she was improving, so she says. When asked, though, she told me of the 'C-' on her English Paper...Mrs. Rothchild, I guess, was not equally impressed.

Well, it's a start, I think to myself, as I watch Linny bounce around the store some more, disappearing into a changing room with some more clothes...is she going to show these to me, too, like the last ones? I'd promised her anything so I can't say 'no'...but I hope these are more appropriate...

I do look so forward to these days with Daddy...my mom makes him out to be like someone I should not even associate myself with...she always reminds me how puny he is, how he is so weak and gutless...and she's such a feminist, like to a fault you know...always telling me about the latest changes in the law, like the one in which they took away the vote from all men...she tells me that men, including my Daddy are just second-class citizens and that he's lucky to have a job...she's petitioning the state courts to try to take that away from men like Daddy too, although she says it's a good thing that he works in an office with all women, serves him right she says...it upsets me when she talks about my Daddy like that, It really does.....

The one good thing was Mommy showing me how to handle a man like Mr. Waldman....she said he'll give you an A on my paper if he wants to keep his job...

+++++++++++

When the weekend with Daddy arrives, I'm so happy...I hug him and kiss him like crazy....after spending a special Friday night with him, I look forward to our shopping day together....after showing him some other clothes, I figured he was ready for this next one....

I try to do my best to prepare Daddy for this one to have him accept it and not freak out....

"Look Daddy, before I get I want you to promise to have an open mind. Do you promise?" I ask, sounding sort of bossy.

"Yes," he says.

"Yes what?" I ask him, wanting him to admit the words that he cannot go back on.

"Yes, I promise to have an open mind," he says.

Then I walk on with this on and show him what I am now wearing...

"No, I'm not going to 'freak out', Linny..." I say to her through the curtain of the changing booth, which opens out to the store, "c'mon, let's see what you go-oh boy, wow...okay, turn around, get back in there!!"

My daughter is NOT going to be seen in that! And I'm certainly not letting her walk around the store in it - I slip into the changing booth with her.

"Linny!! What's gotten in to you?!" I blurt, "No girl your age needs something like...like...this!!"

Okay - I said I wouldn't freak out. I'm freaking out, a little. Calm it, Gray. But: what is this thing she's wearing?! Who would wear something like this? It makes the other stuff she tried on for me earlier - the tiny cotton short-shorts, the bikini, the corset-top-thingy - look absolutely tame.

"You...you look too se-...I mean, this thing is too sexy. You're too young for these...what are they? Pajamas? Underwear? Why would you need something like this?"

Ooh, in times like these, I want to cross my arms and pout....but then I remember an article that I actually read in my Mom's Vogue Magazine and thought this might be the right time, even though it was my Daddy...

I place my arms around him....I smile that innocent smile that edges on pure female sexuality....
"Look Daddy, you have to remember that you and I see things differently now, especially when it comes to clothes like this. You see something sexy, I see, well I see something I like and look good in."

I even try to reason with him logically...
"This is just like when you first saw me in a bikini, remember? Mom had to explain it to you."

I fix his collar as I look down at him....
"I have a great idea. How's about I just wear this around my girlfriends - then I whisper in his ear.... - and you. I promise."

Then I pull away from his ear and somehow my voice breaks down and I play up to our little agreement....my puffy lips get puffier...
"Besides, you promised!"

I look down at my daughter. She stands close, only a head shorter than me now, with her arms draped up around my neck, pouting up at me. I'm a sucker for her, always have been...

<sigh>

"What Linny wants..." I say, going heavy on the exasperation, "...Linny gets."

At that she smiles broadly and giggles. Thanking me ebulliently, she hugs me, hard, and suddenly I feel the squash of surprisingly full breasts into my abdomen. I'm immediately a little uncomfortable, and pull away a bit.

She's gushing, still, profusely elated over getting her way, but I shush her. "Shhhh, shhhh, shhh...Linny..." I begin, "You have to promise me, though...you won't wear anything like this around other boys...." She looks up at me, doe-eyed. "...just me."

At that, she gives me a funny look.

"I...uh...I just d-don't want guys...boys...y'know. Taking advantage of you..."

My confused look breaks down then I smile....
"Oh, I get it, wear it just for our little show. I'll model it just for you Daddy, don't worry, but you won't mind me wearing it around your apartment. It's just sort of a fun outfit. Thanks Daddy."

I kiss him on the cheek and leave a thick mark of my lipstick on him and that makes me giggle....
"Daddy, you have lipstick on your cheek."
...smiling ....laughing...

We walk in the mall and I stop in front of a very special store...

"Now Daddy, there's one other store I want to go to. It's called The Romantic Depot." ...I start straightening out his collar again, sort of nervous as to what he'll think.... "Daddy, I understand if you don't want to come in. Why don't you just give me your credit card and I'll go in myself."

I turn around and look at the store, then Daddy and then the store...The Romantic Depot is a sex shop, selling everything from very racy outfits to dildos to anal plugs and everything in between....

Daddy gives me quite the look...
"Daddy, this place is all my friends and I talk about. Please, please, please let me go in myself. I'll just take ten minutes and then we can go for lunch."

I give him my best smile, and I stand up straight and push out my chest....I know that even my Daddy loves women, and I'm quickly becoming one...this bra that I have on is thin and it usually shows my nipples....it certainly worked on Mr. Chapman...

I sit out there alone, on the mall bench as other shoppers walk by, and question my decision. Should I have let her go in there? "The Romantic Depot"? Probably not, at her age. But..I'm justifying it to myself, any way I can. "all my friends talk about it" "they have lots of funny things" It actually looks innocent enough...for gods sakes, it's in a mall. And, I did promise her a shopping spree, for good grades. I want to encourage good grades, any way I can, right?

Also, I can see it myself more every day I'm with her- she's becoming a woman, and she has to learn, get comfortable with that. I..I just wish I was more comfortable with it. Jeez, that t-shirt she's wearing, and that bra...she's nearly bursting out of it. It's actually good we're out doing this today, she needed new bras, she'd said, and now I believe her. I just can't believe my little girl's a D-cup already, at her age.

I fiddle with the bags she's left me with, arranging them on the bench next to me. How much have I spent today? I think, a little apprehensively, as I mentally review some of our purchases. What did she get, so far? Two little dresses, that stretchy mesh/lace bodysuit, the corset thing, two pairs of shoes, a skirt, the bikini...what else? Oh yeah, the makeup, I remember, as I rub my cheek again, where her lipstick had been, and distractedly rifle through one of the bags. And the bras, I think, new bras.

I half-pull out one of the four new bras she'd tried on, admiring the clasp on a particularly nice push-up, not noticing Linny walking out of the store...

I walk into the store and look around, oh yay!! I have been here before with my friends, but not with Daddy's credit card in my hand...I know what I want, but look anyway...this place has all the real sexy clothes..the first thing I find is the nurse's outfit...I've tried it on before and luckily they have my bust size, 36D, but it seems a little tight...I guess my boobs are expanding again...Mom said that might happen...actually, Dr. Smith, my gyne said that based on all the tests, my breast and my height is still growing... He predicted that I'd be a G or a J cup...so I grabbed the 36 DD just to be safe...

Then I looked at the dildos and butt plugs and vibrators...my friend Maggie has one of each and she swears by them...I am feeling very hormonal and I have played with myself down there...I smile, then giggle and laugh out loud...okay, I'll do it, I'll get one of each...

I go to the register and a young lady, just a little bit older than me rings me up..I take the bag and go back out into the mall....

When I go out, I see Daddy touching one of my new bras.. At first I think, is he a pervert, a creep, then I look down at him and think, he must be lonely from the divorce? Maybe he doesn't want to be with another woman who will be so controlling like my Mom was, hmm...It makes me feel a little sorry for him... He looks up at me and feels caught, I just do the grown up thing and act as if I hadn't seen a thing...

"So Daddy, I'm just famished, aren't you? Can we go get some lunch?"

"I guess I am, a little, since the, uh, divorce, from your mom," I admit, taking a pull of my milkshake, "it's hard not to be lonely, sometimes...being alone."

It's a moment of honesty, sitting across the table from Linny at the mall's burger shop. I'm giving mature, forthright answers because she's asking (surprisingly) mature questions. My little girl is growing up...

"But I have you," I continue, brightening my tone, "Even if it's only one weekend, once a month." I smile, and marvel at her gaze - she's attentive to my every word, listening intently, like an actual adult in actual conversation. Better than most adults, in fact. "I really look forward to our weekends together..."

She demurely tries to hide the pride in her smile, but I see right through her. She's a good girl, really, and we all know divorces are tough on kids of this age. But she's handled it really well and, almost a year out, I'd say she's adjusted great to this new lifestyle. She doesn't seem to hold any grudge against me (maybe she would if she knew why her mom divorced me), but rather seems even more eager for my attention and approval than ever. We've bonded more, I think, in this past year than we ever had before. So...though I haven't had any girlfriends, really, since splitting with my wife...I haven't really wanted any. I have my daughter, and making her life the best it can be, giving her guidance, is enough for me.

Linny takes a big suck on her own milkshake, and I smile wistfully at her. "Since we're being honest...How about you?" I ask, suddenly brave enough to broach the topic, "Any boyfriends for you yet?"

"Well Daddy, I like boys, I mean I find them to be attractive, but no boyfriends yet."

I take a sip of my milkshake and think to myself....there's a lot of things I like...I like boys, but I also like girls....I know that I'm attractive.....how can I tell Daddy that...and there things I like...clothes make me feel sexy and I like that...but, I think there are things I want to explore, things I want to do, get involved in sex-wise....I'm finding that I need something...its the hormones, but I can't discuss this with Daddy, not yet...he may not understand....

I poke my shake with my straw...then I look up at him, smiling....
"Well, if I did have a boyfriend, I would want him to look and be just like you Daddy."

I reach across the table and kiss him on the cheek, giddy, my tits bouncing in my outfit and smiling...

Not unaware of the shockingly full jiggles just below my line of sight, but maybe not really knowing how they're affecting my judgment, my reply is too casual, too offhanded: "And if I were a boy your age, I'd want a girlfriend just like you..."

Excited by his response, really I am, I reach across the table and give him a quick sweet kiss right on the lips...but as our lips touch, even in that split moment I find that I feel something deep inside for my Daddy...

Suppressing the feeling for the moment....
"That's sweet of you Daddy."

I grab hold of his hand and look at it thoughtfully...

WHOA.

What was that?

There was too much, too much, too much in that kiss.

My heart jumped, in shock, and now it beats too quickly. Is it panic, that's keeping me from thinking clearly, saying what I should...or is it something else? Whatever it is, I can't hold my tongue.

"B-but you don't want to hang out with old guys like me..!" I laugh, too nervously, "You should look for someone your own age..."

My reply - meant as a joke to diffuse this bubble of tension - does exactly the opposite...

Still holding his hand, even though it is slightly moist from his nervousness...and his slight stutters, which says to me, like some boys my age, he is actually nervous...wow, I make him nervous....that must mean, hmm?

Cocking my head, my eyes go from our hands to his eyes...with all the confidence in the world - sounding like I'm grown up - I say in quite the sultry voice...
"I like mature men. Maybe that's why I'm not interested in boys my own age. They bore me."