The Tiny Terror

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE]

*

I got the news and it hit me hard. My name is Carl Frederick and my ex-wife was a no good two-timing 'slut' who always had a cold beer in one hand and a "Goober" in the other. A "goober" was a southern slang for some idiot fit for a bit part on the "Andy Griffith" show, maybe the town drunk, barber, or, who cares...they all were idiots. My ex's goobers, though, were always brain dead hunks. I was a brain dead hunk too; however I got mighty ticked off having competition for my legally wed wife.

So, we divorced. I lost in court (I swear that female judge was holding a cold Miller and was holding hands with HER goober under the table.) That meant that "the tiny terror", Heather--my brat little girl, would be under the custody of "the slut". My daughter was a shade over five feet tall, slender, even frail, when I last saw her. Heather was a lovely child when she was young, but a handful, thus the "tiny terror" label. As a matter of fact, it was her antics that got the divorce rolling.

One day Carla (my occasionally faithful wife) was with some "Rhodes Scholar". I think his name was Shotgun, or Magnum, or something. My daughter knew that something wrong was going on, so she reached thru the trailer louvers and stole all of his clothes. Well, shit hit the fan and here was a country-fried bozo wearing my wife's robe and pink slippers, chasing after my daughter as she ran with his clothes. That bitch judge laughed about that along with me and STILL had me pay child support.

Fast forward to now. Seven years later, I get the news that my ex-wife Carla was riding in the wrong F150 pickup, her driver recently having taste tested 11 Bud's. Ford pickups are tough, but so are bridge supports. I hated that treacherous bitch, but not enough to want her to end like that...even I wept at the news. But, I had a job to do. I had to return to Heather's life.

I put my 2nd in command in charge of my construction company. He was the only documented worker I had and he was a brilliant manager. I took the 1st plane back southeast and arrived after two transfers to our backwater little hamlet. All that work travelling and Heather was nowhere to be found.

My favorite neighbor, Rick Holder, brought me up to speed: "your daughter is the same hellcat you remember. You heard about her ATV accident; I was stunned that you couldn't see her because of that restraining order. Her arms were hyper extended with damage to her, what, 'rotator cuff' I think. Anyway, it gave her limited range of motion. The physical therapy was long and arduous, the caregiver was kind and considerate, but used the guide for football injury. As a result, Heather went from pulleys, Nautilus, and static 20 lb. weights to serious lifting. Since the football guidelines had no concern for 'too much muscle' she just kept going. She stopped when she was bench pressing 300 lbs., but only because she was musclebound and could barely move.

An incident brought her progress into sharp focus. Another one of your wife's Goobers acted up, getting a bit too 'frisky', making her call for help. Well, before anyone could come to help, Heather had grabbed the guy, thrown him out of the trailer, and then decked him with one titanic blow. She had knocked him out, one punch, and he had to be revived by medics. Instead of calling for help, your tiny terror made like the cartoons; she put her pretty little barefoot on top of his body on the ground and flexed her bulging biceps in triumph. Your wife and I saw it from our respective trailers, putting us in awe. From that moment on, Heather wanted to fight, and would.

I went to her early fights. Like I said, I never had a thing for strong women, but cat fights? Lord almighty. The promoters always promised all fighters were over 18. I loved seeing Heather wail away on some out of shape homely girl brute, since your daughter was the exact opposite. I think they wanted the contrast of a beautiful demure blonde, with a perfect body to fight some ugly blob so we had a clear heroine to root for. After that fight I got into that tiny world of woman's boxing. There was only one fighter similar to your daughter, a chick named, I think, Jolene Blackshire. Like Heather, she was tiny and heavily muscled in her upper body. She fought much bigger women, using her powerful right hook to equalize the fight. I'm embarrassed to say, some of the dvd's of her old fights are still burning in my mind... Anyway, Heather is on the circuit. I will find her next fight on the website and get it to you. Give my best to her, please."

To my surprise, I did not see Heather's name as an active fighter in the circuit; it said "retired". Now what? I called my friend Rick Holder again, and he just blew me away...

He said he followed the circuit closely, and the bulletin board was alive. Heather was turning pro...on the men's circuit! He said the first fight was scheduled outside Memphis, TN. He said he had no interest in seeing her lose. He sent all the particulars.

The boxing ring in Memphis was of regulation size with the prescribed ropes and corners. There were folding seats under a tent. It was attached to a permanent farmer's market and flea market. Not exactly the MGM Grand in Vegas, but a start. I went to the weigh-in and, oh God, there was Heather after all these years. She wasn't much taller, but she had a fantastic figure. It was toned, rock hard, like a gymnast. The only things outsized were her shoulders and especially those arms. God, they must be menacing to the opponent, male or female. To fans of body building, the lightly colored veins and subtle folds of her straining muscles were hot. I was still unsure how I felt, but this was my baby. I prayed she'd stay out of harm's way. To my relief, the promoters were no fools and found this big lout for her to fight. He had tons of reach and outweighed her by 30 pounds. I guess precise weight classes didn't matter at this level. Anyway, the official statistics had him with 6 inches greater reach, 7 inches taller and over 30 pounds heavier. However, significantly, his biceps of 14 inches were dwarfed by my baby's rippling 19 inch guns on her tiny frame. No wonder some said she was an 18 year old muscle-bound nymph.

The fight lasted two rounds. I had bought 3 beers so I wouldn't have to get up again. The guy next to me said I was nuts, the man would deck this little bitch and end it in 2 minutes. I felt like decking HIM, that little bitch.

Heather came out and you could tell she had limited flexibility due to that accident. But, if he was dumb enough to get in range and attack, then she had a chance. For the 1st round, no one did much of anything. In the 2nd round, he had decided to attack. But as he wound up for his left hook, you could see her powerful right bicep strain and swell with power; suddenly, she gave him an upper cut that nearly separated his head from the rest of him. POW!! Crack! He swayed and then fell over. He was out. Cold. My baby was a winner. All of a sudden, I noticed that the seat I had chosen had been damp for some reason; I stood up only to find that I was damp...my God, had I gotten off to the beauty and power of the tiny terror?

I went back to the meager dressing room, which was a cheaply paneled 20 foot single wide. When I came in, she said no autographs and then shouted, "Daddy!" She ran to me and put her strained arms around as best she could. I hugged her back. She asked me when I got in and if I had seen the fight.

I said I had.

She asked, "Well, what did you think?"

I said, "to be honest, no father thinks of his daughter sporting killer guns on her arms, or having a mean right cross. But, to be honest, you were good and..." (I almost, almost said she was hot...but she was my daughter after all.)

She understood why I couldn't see her after the accident, and she understood my mixed emotions about mom dying. (We hugged and cried a little; I kissed her on the cheek. She was so tough and independent, yet so vulnerable. It made her beautiful to me once again.) Just then, a "fan" came in.

This guy wanted her autograph, saying he loved fit women and he 'followed them' all over the world. As she signed his black&white mimeographed program (they spared no expense), he said he had followed Shannon Miller for a year until he was warned to keep away. Next, he tried to talk to Zamo, who Heather looked like.

She asked who "Zamo" was.

He was just dying to tell her; he gushed, "Zamo was the most beautiful Russian gymnast, the most exquisite creature that ever lived. And, like you, she had a perfect figure except for these enormous biceps. She was diminutive, again like you, so her normal exercises for the parallel bars resulted in these big guns. She had to wear long sleeves in some competitions because some judges wouldn't dig those types of arms."

At this point, he was droning on so I told him to split.

He turned angrily to me and asked me who I was...her father?

I said, "as a matter of fact, I am, so get lost." Using my elderly but still considerable muscles from supervising construction, I opened the door and unceremoniously tossed him out. I locked the door.

Heather jumped up and hugged me, thanking me for protecting her. As she hugged me, I was so embarrassed. She just was happy to have her daddy around again, protecting her. Now why did that have to happen; my old, seldom used cock was coming back to life. Excited by the proximity of a hurricane of power and female sex appeal (with muscle), my old friend was starting to remember what it was for and grew. Then it stopped, then grew some more. When our hug broke, I was at full ten inches, a sight to behold in front of my (poorly chosen) tan slacks. Heather could clearly see her daddy was huge...and because of her.

To my shock, she put a hand forward and squeezed, making me recoil. She said, "What is the expression, 'is that a summer sausage in your pants or are you just happy to see me.' I can see that you ARE happy to see me."

I was humiliated and stuttered, "Sweetheart, this is a terrible thing to happen, and I would never, umm, want my little baby to see me like this."

She said, "Well, it looks like our neighbor didn't tell you everything about me. Daddy, I am gay. I know that horrifies you, but..."

I laughed, "Sweetheart, that doesn't bother me at all. In fact, a lot of men, well, you know.."

She said, "No, what, I DON'T know...oh, I get it. You guys don't dig guys you call fags or women you call dykes, but if a couple of hot babes happen to get together, you what? Call your friends, grab your camcorders, and come a running? Is that it, daddy? You want to see my 18 year old friend Sharon in action with me? Maybe you want to watch me and Sharon, my girlfriend, fuck? Wait right here..." She opened her cell phone and hit a speed dial; another woman came on and Heather demanded her to come to the trailer. In 3 minutes, this woman appeared. Sharon was totally unlike my daughter, but also attractive; she was brunette instead of blonde, tall at 5'7" vs. my daughter's 5 foot frame, buxom whereas Heather was modest in the bust area, and of course, she lacked Heather's enormous "mountain range" of muscle.

Heather said, "Sharon, I want you to meet my father. He seems to have the impression that as gays, we hate men. He's the opposite and hates gays, though he will tolerate ones like us because it gets him off...that's about right, isn't it daddy?!"

Before I could correct them, they had a mini conference in whispered tones. They both nodded agreement and went into action. Sharon pulled out a folding bed from the old folding couch. It was a bare mattress. Heather gave me the 'come over here' finger wave. I came forward. She then ripped open my shirt, showing that I was kind of (ok, totally) out of shape.

They went thru my things like they were robbing me, but they wanted to make me blush with something, ANYTHING they might found...they found it. In my pocket was a lucky packet...i.e. if I got lucky, there were a Viagra pill (the big one) and a condom. They didn't notice that the condom was old and had been perforated several times by my sharp car key.

Another mini-conference, and more giggling. Heather turned to me and said I had to take this Viagra, now.

I asked why.

She said, "fuck why, just take it...oh here, Sharon help me." Heather's powerful hands easily overcame my resistance and opened my mouth; Sharon put the pill in, whereupon Heather just as powerfully held my mouth closed and pinched my nose. I had to swallow. They fetched water just "to be nice." Then Heather said, "well, father of mine and king of the pervs, you and your two fans will wait right here for that thing to kick in, then we are going to fuck the holy shit out of you. You will be wearing a rain cap on your helmet for our protection, but other than that, it will be wild, crazy sex. You will get to see how hot lesbians can be. You will not just watch, like pervs do, but will be in the action. Fancy you."

Talk about odd, the girls stripped me down to nothing; they got in their birthday suits also. Man alive, if there was anything left in my old tool, this should have done it. Heather and Sharon were both virgins and gay. I had a chance to "win them back to our team", though I didn't hold out much hope with the physique I now had. Anyway, I could not believe it was going to take the Viagra's prescribed one hour to get up.

I told them, "Look, you know if you did a bit of hand cranking, we might be able to start and finish sooner." I prayed that Sharon would do it, though. Having Heather do it would be too weird and, besides, with her mighty strength and hostility, she might well separate dick from man.

Sure enough, Sharon did it and in seconds, I was hard. Heather came over and pushed me till I was flat on my back. She then guided, if not forced, Sharon to climb on board. Warm, welcoming, with a skin barrier like parchment paper stopping the fun. I said that Sharon must be a virgin too, and what should I do? Heather being Heather, she got behind us and pushed Sharon down with enormous force. My excited cock, now fully Viagra-fired and turned on by these two nymphs, had been rocket propelled by my powerful daughter's two viselike claws. I had been pushed right thru her hymen and into her untouched womb. My powerful cock was thrilled at being in a place "where no man had gone before", with apologies to Trekkers.

Sharon cried out, "I can feel it, Heather, God it feels so good, so deep. It's touching parts of me I never dreamed would be touched... (she actually swooned and kissed me; lord that was hot!!)" Now Heather went into overdrive. Determined to direct the action, she actually was picking Sharon completely off me and then dropping her. Sharon said, "Heather, are you sure this is safe for me. Remember that we have almost the same cycles, and today isn't very safe for either one of us."

Heather said, "Now don't worry. I watched from across the room as I threw him the condom and insisted he put it on. So we are totally safe."

Sharon said, "ok, on with the show." Heather now was like a madwoman, with two hands lifting and dropping Sharon's slender 18 year old hips, with the goal of getting me off and humiliating me (I never did figure out how). The high point? We didn't have long to wait. Sharon picked back up the 'play by play': "Heather, his thingy, the end of his penis, it's, oh God, it's growing, swelling up...now it's shaking, shaking, shaking, and it stopped. Wait, would I feel a warm pool of goo inside me with a rubber on? Now WOULD I, Heather?!" Heather pulled her off and looked inside, shocked to see a creampie...a wall of white foam. Heather said, "Oops, looks like we fucked up. But it's nobody's fault, really. Sharon, now wait..." Sharon stormed out.

I sat up completely confused. Heather ran over to me, kissing me on the mouth, hard. She said, "Oh daddy, you were great. Especially with that rubber. I was hoping the rubber would break; I never dreamt it would be torn already."

I said, "Ok, sweetheart, I'm following about 10% of this; want to fill in the gaps?"

She said, "You straights don't think about us too much, so it might surprise you that we have flirts, cheats, tramps, everything just like you all. Sharon had been my friend, but I caught her in her apartment with another woman, and her son. Talk about weird. I don't know what shocked me more; the mother doing my girlfriend or, right in front of me, the son doing his mom. And I was ashamed to admit it at the time, it was pretty fucking hot. I don't know if that was safe sex, at least I hope it wasn't."

I raised my hand, "hey, over here, remember me? Why was I drilling your friend?"

Heather said, "Wow, daddy, you are dense. I wanted revenge on that cheating tramp, and forcing her virginal pussy onto a steel hard cock was a sexy sight and a rich bit of revenge. The fact that the rubber failed, well that was a bonus. This state has banned abortions, so unless she can afford to fly two states over and pay those outrageous fees, she's going to be a sexy mommy."

I sat up, my cock still absolutely rigid from this story, the last sexcapade, and the Viagra. I said, "Sweetheart, could you sit in that chair and just fold your legs for daddy."

Heather said, "What in this chair?" She sat down and folded her shapely legs. God in heaven it was like Jennifer Aniston or some other babe on the Tonite Show.

I said, "Well now stand up and show me those guns of yours." She stood up, puzzled as to what I was asking for but posed her incredible upper body. I wasn't a hard-body fanatic BEFORE, but my heavens. She WAS physical perfection. Just as calmly, I motioned her to the bed and patted it next to me. She sat down. Still controlling myself, I calmly said, "oh, sweetheart, I was thinking; I still have some quality time courtesy of Viagra. I was just wondering if we could do this." With that, I pulled her by her slender ankles, her perfect little feet in my hands. She fell flat on her back. Without waiting for the third base coach to wave me in, I plunged into my little girl, making her rise up in surprise. I was confronting the same barrier in her 18 year old pussy, only hers was like tough leather.

With a tear in her eye, Heather said, "daddy, I wanted you to do Sharon to punish her. But please, daddy, let me keep my own sacred place intact." Furious for some reason, perhaps because her unbelievable musculature had emasculated me somehow, I said, "no fucking way, sweetheart. You're just like your mom, so I'm going to treat you like I should've treated her...and not to drive you away, but to keep you. Maybe you will understand; if not, call 911, I don't care."

I drew back and came forward with all the power I could muster. The leather barrier held, and then burst open, giving me complete access to the most forbidden place in the world...for her daddy at least. I now was totally nuts and obsessed with two goals: I wanted my baby to have her 1st orgasm from a man; and 2nd I wanted to put my seed, her father's own potent seed, deep deep inside my baby's fertile vagina. I overheard them say that they shared cycles, and my baby was at peak fertility. I could not waste that chance. Father or not, I was also a man and determined to get her pregnant.

Now that she was no longer virginal territory, I just went ahead as if she was just another conquest (not that I had had so many). I used my Viagra assisted ten inch cock to drag its uncut head along the sensitive walls of her vagina, side to side. Then I tried to see if I could guess where the g-spot was...no dice. Then pushing in and twisting, I sought out her cervix...wait, there it is. And we were off.

"Honey, I am going to fill your womb with love, about a quart of love. Do you want daddy to give you all his love, even if you might end up having his baby?" I didn't know what she was going to say...she might well have said 'get off or I am going to scream'. Well as it turned out: