The Story of C

**All characters are well over the age of 18. I'm not even talking about barely-legal stuff. These are all grown adults. No teens. No children. Adult incest + bimbofication. Literally no kids in this story.**

I

Daddy was shaking me, his big hand warm on my shoulder. That much I knew, because I could hear his voice right next to my ear, but other aspects of my situation were confusing. Where was I? Who was I? That information eluded me.

"Come on, Cuntface," Daddy said, "You don't want to miss your big day."

Cuntface. Yes, that's who I was. There was a sort of blur over the word, like looking at a 3D picture without 3D glasses, but only at first. Of course my name was Cuntface. For a moment I wondered, though, had it always been? Had it been something else...before? But that was silly. Before what? And how? Daddy called me Cuntface, and that was right. That was my name. And today was my big day. I couldn't quite remember why, but Daddy had been planning it for a long time. That part I remembered. A big day, just for me.

Putting these two pieces of information together gave me a warm feeling between my legs, a hot tension that rose up inside me so that I felt a hard swelling spring up inside my pelvis, and a little squirt of moisture seeped out from between my legs, making my pussy lips slippery. I wasn't wearing underwear, and there was nothing to catch the liquid, which dripped down the crack of my ass.

I looked around for my clothes, but there was nothing here except for the mattress beneath me, and Daddy above me. Was this my room? It was my room. Of course it was my room. Why else would I be in bed with Daddy shaking me awake? Had it always been my room? I thought so. Had it always looked like this? I couldn't quite remember. At first it seemed to me that it hadn't, but of course it had. It was silly to think that my room had just changed overnight.

"I'm up, Daddy," I said. "But I'm naked." I wasn't usually, was I? But Daddy didn't seem to think it was a problem.

"That's a good girl." Daddy knelt. "I have some presents for you, for your special day." I hadn't seen the three boxes next to the bed, medium boxes, all different sizes, wrapped with fancy paper and ribbons. He set them on the bed and I started to sit up. Then I stopped. I was naked. Wasn't it wrong to be naked in front of Daddy? But that couldn't be right. Of course it was all right to be naked in front of Daddy. Why would I think otherwise?

"Should I open them?"

"You have to," he said, smiling and happy like he knew I would like my presents. "You'll need them for your special day."

"Daddy, what is my special day?"

"You don't remember? You silly little girl. We've been planning this for months. Don't worry, we knew the procedure might leave you a little scrambled at first, remember? But it will all make sense in a little bit, and you are going to be so much happier than you ever were. Just open your presents. Everyone is waiting for you."

Yes, we had been planning it for a long time, and it was my special day, so of course everyone was waiting for me, and yes, there was something about a procedure, and I was forgetting other things, but that was all right. Daddy was here, so handsome and nice, and I was naked and feeling slippery in my pussy, and I had three presents I had to open.

In the first box, I found a pair of kneepads, the heavy duty kind like a construction worker might have, with hard plastic red covers. It made sense, I knew, although I couldn't remember why. But it made sense. For my special day, I had to be on my knees a lot. It would come back to me, the reason why. But kneepads would be useful and would ensure that I had a good time today. Yes.

In the second box there was a strange piece of clothing. I thought it was clothing. I didn't really see how it went on because it wasn't pants or a shirt or anything like that, but it was also red, and shiny, and made of fabric, with a lot of laces. Daddy would explain if it needed explanation.

In the third box was a kind of a belt, except too short for a belt, and also too wide to fit through belt loops, like only a foot long but more than two inches wide. It was a collar, but a thick one, too big for a cat or a dog, and it was made of red leather, and it had rhinestones, and they spelled out words. For a second I couldn't remember whether or not I knew how to read, but then that knowledge came sharp again, like putting on 3D glasses and seeing the real picture. The collar said, "Daddy's Little Slut." And that was right. Of course I was Daddy's little slut, or I was going to be, if I wasn't already.

"Do you like your presents, Cuntface?" Daddy asked, smiling.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Well, you better put them on, little slut. You have a big day and you can't go out naked. Maybe on an ordinary day, but not on a special day like today."

I could put the kneepads on myself. That was easy. But I didn't even know how to wear the second thing.

Daddy was laughing as I held it up to my body. "That's your new corset, Cuntface. You better give it to me so I can strap you in."

Daddy helped me stand up, because I didn't seem to know how to do that at all. I needed him to lift me by the armpits to get there and then I needed to hold his shoulder to stay put because I seemed to be very wobbly on my feet. "Don't worry," he said, "good little sluts don't need to know how to stand or walk, remember? You won't have to do those things anymore. Crawling and kneeling is best for obedient sluts. But this will make it easier for me." Then he wrapped the new corset around me and started clicking things together and then pulling on the laces. He pulled it tighter and tighter around my waist, and with every pull my pussy felt a little slipperier, and the hard thing swelling in my abdomen throbbed a little more insistently. It was pushing under my tits, pushing them high up my chest, holding the bottom part, making the top part full and round like hot air balloons, with my nipples just poking over the edge. They felt hard and a little sore, and I think Daddy knew, because he flicked each one, one time. "Does it hurt, Cuntface?" he asked. "Does it hurt good?"

"Yes, Daddy." At first I hadn't been sure, but as soon as he said it I knew that was right. It hurt good. It was good that Daddy had put this corset on me. It made it easier for him to flick my nipples and make them hurt good. Plus, that made my pussy drip a little more, and I guess Daddy knew about that, too, because he reached down and squeezed my pussy lips, and more juice trickled out. His finger slid along the slit, very warm and soft, and then he roughly rubbed his finger under my nose and then sniffed his own hand.

"Mmm, smell that, Cuntface? Smell your own wet pussy?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"It's getting nice and wet for Daddy. Ready for your big day."

I was noticing that it wasn't just my pussy being wet or my clitoris getting hard. There was that something inside me, something in my gut, like a new organ or sensation growing there, a point halfway between my slit and my bellybutton, where what some people call the second chakra and some people call qi or agni or fire in the belly lived, but it felt hard and alive and unmistakable, like how you can feel your heart beating when you've gotten a lot of exercise or feel your stomach if you've eaten too much. Maybe it was just my same cervix that had always been there? It was tangible and real, but it also felt new. But that seemed strange; how could I have a whole new organ? It must be normal and usual for me to feel like a well oiled machine running, there, like a motor forming a triangle with multiple lines running from the new place down my whole vaginal passage to the hole up my vulva to my clit and from my clit back up to the magic churning place in my gut, and also running in the other direction, and out to the sides where my ovaries were sparkling like stars, and also projecting that energy out in every direction, to my mouth and my nipples and my thighs, three thousand six hundred degrees, and filling me up, except not really because it was also hungry for something.

It was just something my body was doing, like breathing. More important to pay attention to Daddy right now.

The last present, the collar, Daddy also needed to help me with. It was so wide that it made me lift my chin up when he put it on, but that was good and right.

Daddy pinched my nipple, so hard that I yelped, but he only laughed and instead of letting go, he used it to pull me out of the room, although definitely I did not have any idea how to walk and or even to stand up on my own two feet. But when I stumbled he squeezed it so hard and tight that I couldn't fall, plus he had his other arm around my waist. There was a mirror on the back of the door, and Daddy held me up in front of it for a moment so I could see how I looked wearing bright red kneepads, a very tight red corset, and a thick red collar, with Daddy so big and strong behind me, his arm holding me up where I could see. For a second I wasn't sure how I looked.

"You look like an obedient slut," Daddy said, and then I remembered, yes, I looked like an obedient slut. This was how an obedient slut would dress, and it made sense, because that's what I was. Daddy's obedient slut. It was very important to remember this, and I felt a little stupid that I had forgotten something so important, but then I remembered about how the procedure and how I might be a little scrambled, and I was, and that was right. I forgot what my problem was, but I remember that Daddy said the procedure was going to fix it, and I guess he had, because except for being a little scrambled, everything else was right.

For example, when Daddy stopped pinching my nipple, the sensation flooded back in and the sensation was a thousand needles sharply poking me and that felt good and right, to have pain that felt good, to have it in my nipple, to have it caused by Daddy stopping pinching me. I hoped he would pinch me some more. It seemed like I could learn important things about being a slut from the experience. I leaned back into his broad chest for support.

In the mirror, I saw Daddy's hand before he tugged at the collar, and I heard the chain jingle before he clicked it on. Now Daddy had me on a leash, and that was strange, because I thought I didn't like it, but then I remembered that I did, that little sluts on leashes couldn't get in trouble. That had been why I needed the procedure, I think. I didn't want to get in trouble anymore. I needed Daddy to keep me out of it, and the procedure had done something to help.

Daddy gave the chain a tremendous yank down. "That's enough standing and admiring yourself, Cuntface. You're not a vain little girl, are you? You're just a slut, and you belong on your knees remember?"

I remembered. I definitely belonged on my knees, and it felt right that Daddy would yank me down to them by a chain on a collar that said "Daddy's Little Slut," even though he could have just pushed me over or waited for me to fall down all by myself. It felt so right that I was dripping between my legs again, pussy juice running down my thighs with no panties to catch it. It was one of the things that my inside part was hungry for.

"Now crawl," Daddy said, and he was in front of me, pulling the chain, and I was on my hands and knees, trying so hard to crawl after him but not being able to crawl as fast as Daddy could walk, even though the kneepads helped. Maybe for my next special day, Daddy would buy some pads for my hands, too. The corset changed everything about how my body moved, but I would have to learn to get used to it, because I remembered from the mirror how it made me look. Wearing a corset made my waist tinier and my tits bigger and that made me better at being Daddy's Little Slut, like the collar reminded me I was. Even though I didn't have underwear or pants or a shirt, I had the right uniform for my job. I didn't remember exactly what job a slut did, but as long as Daddy was here, it was all right. He would help me behave, even though he would laugh at me for being too silly to know things I was supposed to know.

I kept crawling behind him, and when I lifted my eyes up I could see that he was wearing tight black leather pants that looked very nice on his ass. The chain kept clanking as he pulled me down the stairs, and I had to focus all my efforts on crawling with kneepads and a corset and a chain; it was a lot more work than just walking down the stairs wearing clothes, but I remembered that I wasn't going to be doing that anymore, that walking was really hard. Impossible, actually. I was supposed to crawl. That was the right way for little sluts, especially on big days. My pussy was so wet remembering this, like every time I remembered being a slut and how to be a slut, I felt a little more excited.

It also felt like being hungry down there, like my pussy was salivating for something I couldn't remember, that it wanted to be filled up, but this was not the time to ask Daddy. He was in a big hurry and on a schedule and he didn't need any little sluts slowing him down with a lot of silly questions that she was supposed to already know the answer to. Daddy would take care of me; that was all I really needed to know.

My name was Cuntface. I was an obedient slut. It was my special day. In the back of my mind, a little tickle said that my name wasn't always Cuntface, and I hadn't always been an obedient slut, but I didn't want to hear it anyway. That was an annoying buzz of a voice that said that, something I wanted to brush or scratch away, and I knew that if I didn't listen to it, it would get quieter. It was nicer to focus on it being my special day, and wondering what other surprises there would be. When the day starts with Daddy giving you three presents, of course you're going to get other things, even if you're too silly to remember why you're getting them or what they're for.