Single Dad Raising a Busty Daughter

Since I have ADHD, I've started writing a new short series out of boredom. This time, I wanted something more heartfelt. I don't have a daughter, so I wrote this story as an honest exercise of what it would be like to raise a busty daughter, with the expectation that it will likely go off in a more taboo direction (as soon as the story takes on a life of its own and the mob makes their comments known). I don't have a daughter, so I always wondered…

Please, spare me any comments along the lines of "You should have fucked your 7-year-old daughter", please don't waste your time with your shitty comments if that's what you're going write. I'm really trying something different with this one – at least at the start.

Thanks for reading! :-)

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I want to state that, first off, I had zero intention of having dirty thoughts about my daughter.

I love her more than anything, and she’s always been my little sweetheart. But I think that most men in my position would have at least started down the winding, troublesome road of incestual thoughts if you were faced with rearing a girl like Maddie.

First of all, let me start by telling you I’m a single dad. I have been since Maddie was two. What happened was I fucked a stripper named Amy while I was in the Army (I was stationed during peacetime in 1997 in Texas) and she had Maddie. We tried to stick it out for a few years, but one day, she just left. She actually didn’t call me until Maddie was 8, but by then, I had gotten full custody.

Anyhow, I suppose this whole story started when Maddie was just six. Imagine my surprise when my little girl, who was already cute as a button with big blue eyes and long, flowing brown hair, woke up suddenly one morning to discover she had breasts.

Imagine it. My six-year-old daughter had sprouted breasts out of nowhere. As a single dad, I was totally ill-prepared at the time.

I looked online for information and kept finding nothing but links to child pornography and shit. I just wanted advice to get my girl a bra!

I finally found some good advice from a website that suggested I find a woman I trusted to go with us, so I chose my sister-in-law, Trudy. Aunt Trudy helped my dumb ass through this, and we got Maddie a pack of something called “Missy First Bras.” My cute, petite little girl measured in at a 30A right off the bat, and right there, I had to establish an immediate dialogue with her as her body changed. On such a little girl, 30A breasts looked big.

It also created quite a bit of judgmental eyes. Before her breasts arrived, she was already the cutest, most popular girl in her class. Now the little boys acted like total idiots around her. I had three or four little boys just randomly arrive on my door step asking if Maddie could come out to play. I just shooed them off like an annoying fly.

But not only for her – apparently it was considered a sign of sexual abuse if a girl as young as Maddie developed breasts, so the principals and counselors at school had to question me. They said that when we took Maddie to the doctor – they had to check her out to see if it was a case of “precocious puberty” which was apparently a serious condition – they would also be checking for vaginal scarring and a broken hymen. I was SOOO PISSED! You never heard a parent yell louder and use more four-letter words in a principal’s office than me that day. But legally, we all had to comply with this check-up.

I had to explain to Maddie that the doctor would be doing a different type of examination, which opened up the conversation of “good touch” vs. “bad touch” and how doctors are okay to touch you there, just as long as your dad is there too, and he did the examination. Of course the sonsabitches found no vaginal scarring, and luckily, they just concluded that she freakishly sprouted breasts early, which was becoming more and more common, and that we would have to monitor for pubic hair growth. If pubes came in soon, we would have to contact the doctor.

At the time, I still gave Maddie her baths. We were pretty open with each other, so I’d see her naked little butt every time it was bathtime, tickling her and playing and just having a fun time. But once she developed these little boobs, which stuck out like tiny mounds topped with puffy pink nipples, I felt dirty giving her these baths.

So I had to explain to her that she was old enough to get in the bath or shower, get her clothes on and off, dry herself off, all by herself and that I shouldn’t see her until she was clothed again. About all I would do is start the water so she wouldn’t burn herself, and help her with her hair afterward.

She started crying because she loved any time we spent together. We were attached at the hip with each other and she thought I was mad at her. But I told her that she was growing up and that it was no longer appropriate for daddy to see her naked since she was a girl and I was a boy. And I had to follow the same rules and not run around the house in my underwear, with the bulge of my pretty large cock poking out. I explained to her that I could only see her naked if it was an emergency or something medical that she needed me to look at.

And I told her that we had to monitor her changing body closely. Since I couldn’t see her that way anymore, she would have to tell me if her bra got tight or if her breasts started to push over the top of the cups. She would also have to tell me when she noticed hair sprouting in her pubic region. I told her, probably erroneously, that if she sprouted hair too young, we would have to take her to the doctor because it could be a sign she was sick.

This scared her a bit, and since she was an obsessive little girl, she started a regimen of checking and rubbing her breasts and examining her pubic region regularly, as well as creating a ridiculously too open dialogue between me and her about her sexual features.

In short, I had created a monster – which we will go into later.

Outside of getting taller, her body didn’t really change until she was in the third grade. It was then that puberty hit my little girl head on.

She grew to about eight inches to 4’9” that year and was easily the tallest girl in her class. It was also that year that she reported black pubic hair growing. Of course, once she had sprouted two or three hairs, we were right there in the doctor’s office. We did a few tests and scans just to be sure, but we found that it was indeed just regular old early puberty. She reported to me that by the summer before fourth grade, she had a full black mound – and luckily – was much more relaxed about her pubes growing in.

Then there were the breasts. I don’t think anybody was prepared for what happened that year, but she steadily sprouted larger and larger breasts, moving from a 30A to a 32A to 32B in a two month period. I was going fucking broke buying bras and she just kept growing.

By February, the 32B wasn’t fitting right so I started researching and I figured out how to measure bras. I told her that I had gotten a measuring tape and we would measure her to figure out which is the right size to buy.

To do so, she had to get in front of me with just a bra on, and I think this was the first time I had an impure thought about my daughter. She took off her shirt and there was my 4’9” girl, showing womanly features, a slim body that was just starting to curve at the hips, and she had this pair of tits that were just bulging out of the 32B over the top. I couldn’t believe it – my 8-year-old daughter had obnoxious cleavage!

But then I let my dad role take over again and I had to adjust her breasts to get a better measurement, pushing her flesh back into the cup as much as possible. Though she complained she hurt, I promised it would be over soon.

I measured underneath the bra line as the first step and it was 28 inches.

Then I told her to lean forward as I measured around her breasts. I extended the measuring tape and admittedly got a bit turned on as my hands ran along the front of her bra-encased breasts. I measured around her bust and return a measurement of 33.5 inches.

I looked at the chart on the website, and I was floored.

My little girl should be wearing a 28DD.

In the third grade.

And since I was such a sick fuck, I felt my cock harden almost immediately.

“OK baby,” I told Maddie. “I know what size you should be wearing.”

“What size, daddy?”

“Ummm,” I began, still in disbelief. “A 28 Double-D.”

Nonchalantly, she said “What does that mean?”

“Nothing sweetie,” I said, trying to spare her feelings. “It’s just a number that shows what size we’re supposed to wear.”

“Is it big?” she asked. “I heard it was good when you wear a big bra.”

God I’m not cut out for this. “It’s just a number, baby,” I said. “But if you ever tell somebody your bra size, they might think it’s big and call you names, and I want you to be ready for that, OK? If somebody tries to define you just based on your bra size, I think they’re stupid.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. She’d had to deal with two years worth of her classmates being idiotic about her boobs, so she was strangely used to it and quite wise for an 8-year-old.

We went to the mall to look for a 28DD. And we couldn’t find one. Anywhere.

As much as I didn’t want to, I had to go to a Victoria’s Secret. I hated bringing my 8-year-old into such a sexy store for a bra, but I had no choice.

I told the sales lady about our problem, explaining that I was a single dad, getting the judgmental look like I was molesting her (You’d be surprised how fucking common that is), and then bringing her in the back room to measure her.

“Awwww, I don’t want to get measured again!” Maddie complained. “My dad just measured me yesterday!” The sales ladies in the store immediately glared at me as if I just whipped it out in the middle of the store.

I let the daggers bounce off me and responded exasperated “I measured her at a 28DD.” I found that if I used a tone in my voice of being exasperated, it made me more endearing to women when it came to my daughter.

“Well, let’s just take you back and check.” They began to go back and I started to follow, but they told me I wouldn’t be allowed to go back with them.

“But it’s my daughter,” I said. “My 8-year-old daughter.” Maddie looked up at me very scared. But I had to relent and let them go back there alone.

After a few awkward minutes in which I didn’t make eye contact with the really hot girls behind the counter, they came back out.

“Well,” the girl announced, bringing Maddie back with her as she became dejected, running back to my side to hug me. “I measured her at a 32C. We have those sizes over…”

“But that’s just one cup size above what she’s wearing now,” I explained. “And she’s busting out of it and she complains about it being tight in the breasts and loose on her body.”

Realizing she was just trying to make a sale and I wasn’t biting, she finally let down her guard. “Well, 32C really is the same thing as a 28DD. And if you’re hellbent on a 28DD, you can only buy it online. They don’t really carry small bands with such big cups in stores.”

Maddie looked horrified. “Daddy, does that mean I’m weird?” I just hugged her tight. I knew coming in here was a bad idea.

I sighed. “No, baby. You’re just so special we need to find a special store for you.” It was a bullshit answer but she seemed satisfied with that and we left the store.

We left the store and I logged on to order bras. And fuck me! They were expensive!

Like $35 apiece. And I had to probably buy two or three.

And then it occurred to me that I had to approach it like shoes. I had always gotten in the habit of buying the next shoe size up so when she inevitably grew, I was ready. And since she was just 8, I assumed she would get bigger. And that meant I probably should get even larger bras.

So $200 later, I got three 28DD, a 28E and a 30DDD sent to us.

When she got the bras, I was floored. Now wearing something shapely that pushed her breasts up and in, she looked, for the first time, like a woman. Despite the cup size, it’s not like she had huge breasts. She looked like a slim teenager with average to above average breasts.

When I’d walk with her, people assumed she was a teenager too. She was so pretty, and those baby blue eyes just made her entrancing. Add to it being super slim and a pair of cleavage-causing breasts, and I’d notice grown ass men checking out my eight year old daughter like she was a piece of meat.

Over the next two years, things began to change rapidly. She kept growing tall, hitting 5’4” by the 5th grade. She started sneaking makeup from time to time. Her hips continued to flare out. And her breasts just continued growing.

It was becoming a ritual every two to three months to buy a new bra. Luckily, as she grew taller, she gained a little bit of weight so her cup size didn’t appear as freakish – but I guess it was still a bit freakish.

Her band size expanded to a 32 but her breasts grew to the point to where most slim adult women would trade for her boobs.

At the start of her 5th grade year, she was in a 32DDD and by the time we started after Christmas, she had expanded to a 32F and bordered on a 32G.

It was also that year that we had "the talk."

She was obviously a sight to behold. She kind of looked like a fucking Kardashian, but slimmer and with bigger tits. It was crazy. And she was only 10!

Mr. Yawkey, her 5th grade teacher, also agreed she was a sight to behold.

When Maddie first came to me and told me a month into the year that Mr. Yawkey was “looking at her” and it made her uncomfortable, I defended the guy. I had that discussion with her that had really become regular at this point – she had a huge burden to carry with her her entire life.

“I know you’re still a kid, baby, but you need to realize, you look like a grown woman,” I told her. I looked down at her giant breasts and back up at her eyes. “In fact, you’ve grown more than most women ever will.”

She looked up at me and had tears in her eyes. “I hate these things,” she said, punching herself in the breasts. “They cause me so much trouble. Mr. Yawkey just stares at them all the time.”

At that moment, I considered telling her that a breast reduction was an option. But selfishly, I didn’t. Because even though she was my daughter, I loved looking at her tits bounce around the house. And during that moment, it was the first time I referred to Maddie’s breasts as “tits” in my inner dialogue with myself.

And I know Mr. Yawkey was just a guy. And a guy can’t help but look at huge boobs when they’re in front of his face.

“Maddie, I always tell you how beautiful you are, but I also need to tell you that you look very sexy too.”

She giggled. “Daaaad!”

“I’m serious,” I laughed. “I’m making a point. You’re a beautiful little girl. But I know grown men think you’re sexy, and when you’re sexy, guys have bad thoughts.” I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth.

“What kind of bad thoughts?”

And this is what led to our birds and the bees talk.

“Oh lord… okay, I need to have an uncomfortable talk with you. Are you okay with that?”

“Of course, Dad. No talk with you is uncomfortable.”

I laughed. “Well, it’s uncomfortable for me.” I just started with the talk.

“Do you know what sex is?”

She blushed. “Yesss…”

“OK, what is it?”

She looked baffled, as if she didn’t expect the question. “Well, it’s when boys and girls kiss, and then more stuff happens.”

“Like what stuff?”

“They see your boobs.”

“Then what?” I know it was unfair questioning, but I needed to figure out what she knew.

“Ummmm….”

“So are you saying you don’t know any more?”

She looked down in dejection. “Yes.”

“Well,” I began, “I suppose I should tell you how sex works, and more importantly, why boys and men turn stupid when they look at you.” She was sooo convinced that boys were substandard human beings because they were so mind-bogglingly stupid around her, even grown men, and she was convinced I was a genius since I actually had the wherewithal to NOT stutter in her presence.

“So here’s sex. A man and a woman – now note how I said a man, meaning over 18, and a woman, also meaning over 18 – start kissing. Then based on their body language, they kind of tell each other based on how hard they kiss, that they want to have sex with each other. So they start taking each other’s clothes off and get naked.”

She was smiling, blushing – and intrigued.

“To have sex, a boy puts his penis inside of the girl’s vagina. Did you know that?”

She blushed wildly. “Yesssss….”

“OK. Well, the boy’s penis gets hard and…”

“What do you mean, hard?” Oh lord. Please get this conversation over with.

“OK, let me start over. The girl’s vagina gets wet.” I winced, because I had to ask the following question. “Do you ever get wet down there?”

She blushed again. “Yeahhh….” She said. “Every time I rub myself down there.”

Oh gosh. I just got the vision of my 10-year-old, 32F-titted daughter rubbing her pussy in her bed. It never occurred to me that she would do that. But I guess she was like a typical 14 year old or so, since she started puberty two years ago. And I fully accepted that 14 year olds probably frigged themselves.

But even worse, upon imagining her masturbating, her tit jiggling as her left arm reached down to her pussy, sticking two fingers into her entry …. Ugh! No, I wasn’t going to think like that! And I certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge the hard-on I was getting!

But I had to focus. I had to continue while also remembering to address the masturbation thing later.

“OK. That’s OK,” I began. “It’s totally normal that you do that and I encourage you to do so. So, you know how when you get wet, it feels funny and you feel good?”

*giggle* “Yeah…” *giggle*

“Do you ever rub it so much that you feel really good? Like you just release and you feel good feelings run up and down your body?”

“Yeah, it’s awesome when that happens!”

Oh lord. My little girl really was a full on masturbator. At 10 years old.

“OK, that’s called an orgasm.”

“I like orgasms,” she said proudly. Holy shit. My busty 10-year-old daughter just proclaimed that she liked orgasms.

“OK…” I said. “So with boys, instead of getting wet, when they get excited sexually, their penis grows and gets hard.”

“Wow, that sounds cool.”

“NO IT’S NOT COOL!” I said as a knee-jerk dad reaction. “I mean, you’re not allowed to see a hard penis until your 18, OK?” She rolled her eyes at me.

“So,” I continued. “When the boy has a hard penis, which is called an erection, and the girl is wet, he puts his penis inside the girl’s vagina and once that happens, they are having sex.”

“Then what happens?”

“Well, sex is how babies are made.”

“Well, duh, I know that. But, you know, how does it happen?”

“You mean make babies?” She nodded. “Well baby, the guy has an orgasm during sex.”

“So the boy gets all wet then gets a good feeling?”

“Kind of,” I continued. “The boy’s orgasm is different, as she shoots something called sperm out of his penis, and, long story short, when sperm is swimming around a girl’s vagina, the girl has a chance to become pregnant and that’s how babies are made.”

She tried to process it all, and had that shocked look on her face. “Wow. I thought it was more complicated than that.”

Sounded fucking complicated to me. When I got my birds and bees talk, I didn’t believe it for months!

However, I also needed to use this as an opening for the more important talk: managing her sexuality.

“Now, we come to you. You look like a girl who is much older than 10. A girl who looks as grown up as you look is probably sexually active.”

“What does sexually active mean?”

Oh boy. “That means you’re having sex with somebody every so often.”

“Well I’m not having sex with anybody.” THANK GOD!

“Nor should you!!” I shouted. “You’re still a kid and you shouldn’t be having sex for a very long time. But…” I looked up at her baby blue eyes, and they were so expectant, hanging on my every word, and I had to tell her something that I know would destroy her world.

“…I’m sorry to tell you, boys and men look at you and they decide you’re so beautiful and sexy, that they’d want to have sex with you if given the chance.”

“Ewww, you’re telling me Mr. Yawkey wants to have sex with me?!”

“No, I’m not telling you that. What I am telling you is that boys are hard-wired to think about sex all the time and decide if they think girls are sexy enough to have sex with every time they look at a girl – even if they don’t realize it.”

“And baby, you look different from the other girls in your class. You know that, right?”

She lowered her eyes and looked down sadly and nodded.

“They’re not as tall as you, they’re not as pretty as you, they’re flat chested and they don’t get the attention from boys that you get, right?” She nodded.

“So Mr. Yawkey’s brain looks at you and thinks ‘woman’ while he looks at the other girls in the class and he thinks ‘little girls.’ Men don’t look at little girls and think about sex, but as soon as girls start showing features that grown up women have, like having big boobs like you, or maybe shapely hips or legs, body features little girls don’t have, they think about sex. And they might act differently because of it.”

She really had a hard time with that. She didn’t know what to say. “So boys really are stupid? They just think about sex all the time?”

“Boys aren’t stupid, but unfortunately, I think they do think about sex all the time.”

“Do you think about sex all the time?”

Oh lord. I walked right into that one. We were having a ridiculously honest conversation. So I had to be honest.

“Yes, sweetie. I do. I’m a single man, and I’m always looking for a girlfriend. It’s tough to admit, but I am. And every time I look at a girl, I automatically size her up as a potential sex partner and a potential girlfriend. Even if I don’t talk to her, my brain automatically does that. Don’t you do that when you see boys? You automatically decide if he’s cute or not?”

“Yeah…” she giggled.

“Well, we are so hard-wired to do that, we check out every attractive girl there is. We just do. And you’re so so so attractive, Maddie.”

She got a bit uncomfortable, but smiled. “Really?” And she was crazy attractive. She looked a bit like Jordana Brewster, but with big blue eyes and huge boobs.

“You really have no idea, hun. And that’s why you’re having a tough time and you’re going to continue to have a tough time as you get older. Most guys are going to want to just have sex with you, the rest will be hopelessly in love with you, and you’ll have a hard time making female friends because they’ll be jealous of you.”

“And unfortunately, baby, a lot of people will think you’re having sex just because you have really big boobs. And they’ll call you names. Like ‘slut’ or something. Really nasty stuff.”

She got really said and almost started to cry. “Really? Why would people be like that?”

“Because. People just aren’t nice sometimes. But I challenge you to be nice to everybody, treat everybody with respect, and if you do that, I think you will be truly happy. You’ll have good friends, and even a nice respectful boyfriend. But it will be hard work. Are you okay with that, baby?”

She nodded. “It sounds really scary. But I think I can do it.”

“Good baby. I’m proud of you.” I pulled her in close and kissed her on the forehead. I couldn’t help but look down at her huge boobs squeezed together and resting on my side.

“And you think Mr. Yawkey just can’t control it when he stares at me?”

“No baby. His brain just thinks you’re attractive because you are. But I don’t think he’s actually thinking of having sex with you.”

“Good! That makes me feel better!”

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