BDSM Bimbo Daughter

by Amber FoxxFire

My 18-year-old daughter, Stacy, had wanted to be a Bimbo since turning 18. She was unfortunately graced with small tits and a shy personality.

And while I did find her cute in her own way, I could understand why she wouldn't feel the same.

There's no accounting for taste.

Excerpt:

My 18-year-old daughter, Stacy, had wanted to be a Bimbo since turning 18. She was unfortunately graced with small tits and a shy personality.

And while I did find her cute in her own way, I could understand why she wouldn't feel the same.

There's no accounting for taste.

I love all women. Tall, skinny, short, fat, big tits, flat chested, blonde, brunette, or redheads. And I loved my sweet innocent Stacy.

But she was the kind of woman that just got ignored in favor of flashier models, which was unfortunate. She had a good heart, and a pretty smile, and I wished she could just be happy.

I had a chance encounter at work that gave me the perfect chance to make my daughter's dream come true. You see, I work at a secret government laboratory, where we make top secret stuff for the military.

I can't tell you much, but I'm not a spy, or a scientist, or a secret agent, or even a super-secret soldier. But, one day, one of the scientists, let's call him Dr. Z, asked me for advice.

"Hello," he said.

I glanced up from my computer screen. I had been browsing the internet, looking at porn, when Dr. Z walked in. He was one of the scientists, working on top secret stuff.

He was a short, pudgy fellow, balding, wearing a white laboratory coat. He looked nervous, fidgety. Like most scientists here, he was brilliant, but had very little social skill.

"Oh, hi, Doc." I smiled at him. "What brings you out of your dungeon? The sun is still up."

"I've never understood that statement," Dr. Z said, frowning. He looked down at his wristwatch, then back up at me, and shrugged. "It's almost five, so technically, it isn't really still up anymore. It will be setting soon." He pushed his glasses up his nose.

"I was joking, Doc," I said.

"Oh." He blushed. "I never understand those, either. They just don't make sense. They are illogical. Why do you humans like them so much?"

"Wait...did you say, 'humans'? Are you a Vulcan?" I grinned. "Like, from Star Trek?"

"No, of course not," he replied, shaking his head. "My planet is not named after mythology or an Earth creature. We have real names."

"Huh?" I frowned.

"Oh, I wasn't supposed to tell you that." Dr. Z suddenly paled, looking terrified.

"It's all right, Doc," I said, shaking my head. "I get it. It was a joke."

"Oh. Of course." Dr. Z nodded. "So, your joke was, I'm an alien."

"Yeah. You could use it sometime, Doc. So, what did you need?" I grinned.

"I need your help." Dr. Z looked down at his feet.

"How so, Doc?" I smiled.

"Well, you know that project that I've been working on, the one to make our secret agents more effective?"

About the Author

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