There are two parts to this: how it started, and how it’s going.

That’s indisputably me, in that photo framed on the wall. But that’s also indisputably me in the mirror. How can both statements be true, when the discrepancy between them is so impossibly large?

But the framed photo has to be me. Daddy framed it and hung it next to the mirror for a reason. He wants me to see how far I’ve come.

The girl in the photo is a vision of rebellious beauty. Raven-black hair, with a shock of electric blue streaking through. Thick black eyeliner rings her piercing green eyes, and her full lips are painted a deep, matte burgundy. Multiple silver rings glint on her fingers.

She's wearing a choker, a leather jacket, faded jeans, and belligerent-looking combat boots.

Hard to believe I was once that girl. I called myself Raven, because Jewels just felt too boring and mundane for the sort of person I was. I had a girlfriend, a hell of an attitude, and full confidence in my identity: an unapologetic goth dyke who played by her own rules.

That’s who I was, a thousand years ago, in another life. That’s how it started.

As for how it’s going…

The girl in the mirror is unrecognizable from the goth chick in the photo. Wavy blonde hair cascades past my shoulders. I’m currently busy tracing slutty lines around my eyes, which also brings my attention to my glittering pink stripper nails. My lips are pink, too, and glossy.

I’m in a bubblegum crop top that barely contains my tits. I’m in a tiny denim skirt that barely contains my ass. Everything about me is soft and pink and non-threatening, accommodating, inviting, receptive, unassuming…

Submissive.

The only hint of edge is the black leather collar buckled snugly around my neck, with a little heart-shaped tag that reads "Daddy's Girl."

Raven the goth lesbian is ancient history. I’m now Jewels, perfect bimbo princess, arm candy who gets horny every time I press the lipstick to my lips because it reminds me of a boner.

There is power in a name, and since Daddy has seen fit to disempower me, it only makes sense that he’d take away my ability to choose my own name, too.

It’s funny, because once, he had another name too, back when I was still Raven, and we were still in university. He works in IT now, while I never got to finish my degree.

Girls don’t need degrees, Daddy always says.

Back then, I was dumb, not like I’m dumb now — which is pleasant and sexy — but dumb in an unappealing, feminist, lesbian way. I still didn’t know to refer to him as Daddy, I just knew him as Karl.

And because I was really really dumb, I barely paid him any mind. I steered clear of men, as a general rule. Raven never had much use for them.

She never understood, like I do, that that’s the whole point: it’s men who have a use for me.

It’s important, the name change thing. There is power in a name. I was Raven, I’m now Jewels. He was Karl, and now he’s… well… Daddy. How else would I ever call him?

It took a while for that lesson to sink in, but Daddy’s a patient, methodical man.

He smoothed my brain over, plucking all those silly rebellious thoughts out of my mind. The first time he did that, I barely noticed.

"Sorry to bother you," he told me that day, "but I think you dropped this." He held out a shiny silver stone on a black leather cord. It caught the sunlight and glinted so prettily.

I frowned. "That's not mine," I said, but I reached for it anyway.

As soon as my fingers brushed the stone, a strange sensation washed over me. It was like a sudden bout of drowsiness. My eyelids fluttered, and my head felt heavy.

I remember swaying where I sat, my textbook slipping from my lap. I remember Daddy's face swimming into focus, larger than life. His lips were moving, but I couldn't make out the words. His eyes seemed to almost shine, but it was a distant light, like the sun seen from underwater.

Just as quickly as the drowsiness had come over me, it passed. I blinked, shaking my head to clear the lingering fog. Daddy was gone, and I was alone under the tree, my textbook lying forgotten in the grass.

At the time, I chalked it up to stress and lack of sleep. Uni exams were coming up, and I had been burning the candle at both ends, trying to cram in as much studying as possible. I figured I had just dozed off for a minute, my exhausted mind playing tricks on me.

Instead, I had just taken my first step into his spiderweb.

He slowly roped me in. I don’t know what he did to me that day, exactly, but he kept finding excuses to spend some time around me, and I never pushed him away. I was always receptive. And whenever we were alone…

The stone would be in my hand, his lips would move, and his eyes would shine.

It took me a long time to realize something was going on. A loooong time. By then, a crucial part of me was already gone… But that's the thing about being a perfect bimbo princess.

You don't need to think too hard about these things. You just need to smile.

I do that in front of the mirror now, just to be sure I’ve still got the smile nailed down just the way Daddy wants it. Good. I’m ready for him, then.

I make my way to Daddy’s bedroom, and once inside, I curtsy. Bimbos may be clumsy, but trad girlfriends are supposed to master domesticity, and so at least when it comes to the home, Daddy’s seen fit to leave me with enough coordination to look graceful.

When he nods in approval and stands up from the bed, I sink to my knees.

Moments later, his rapidly stiffening cock is wobbling left and right before my eyes.

If only Raven could see me now…

"There’s no way hypnosis is a real thing, dude," I told him once. By that point, Daddy had already siphoned enough personality out of me that I was extremely passive. When asking him if he was messing with my mind somehow, he straight up told me he’d been hypnotizing me for months.

Raven would have freaked out, called the cops, me-too’d him, blocked him, she would have done all sorts of unsavory and unfeminine things.

I did none of those, because I was already softened past the point of no return. I simply tried to wrap my diminutive feminine intellect around the big words Daddy was using.

I had so many questions. But Daddy always had an answer.

"Surely you can’t just override a person’s sexual orientation, right?"

He smiled and patiently explained to me that women aren’t really people, which explains it, really. That makes it okay.

Eventually, I felt a certain sense of finality and acceptance settle over me. I didn’t know how he was deconstructing and dismantling me, I just knew that he was, indeed, doing it.

And that I could not stop it.

I wrap my lips around Daddy’s cock. He told me once that lesbians make for the best cocksuckers. That seemed intuitively weird to me, and I never did understand what he meant by that exactly, but that’s okay. That’s my fault for being dumb.

I slide back and forth. I bob up and down. His cock enters my mouth and my thoughts are pushed out to make room. An empty head is a good cocksucking head.

I suck diligently, coating Daddy’s cock with my spit to get it nice and slick. I swirl my tongue around the head and flick it against the tip. I suckle shallowly. I take him deep. I look down demurely. I make eye contact devotedly.

I suppress my gag reflex as he hits the back of my throat.

Daddy's hands are in my hair, guiding my head to the rhythm he likes, because at the end of the day, if I’m not a real person, why not be his masturbatory aid, his sex toy?

At least that’s fun.

I look up at him through my lashes, making sure to maintain eye contact when he takes over and facefucks me. He's taught me that's important. A good blowjob is as much about the visual as the physical sensation.

I hollow my cheeks and suck harder, feeling him throb and pulse in my mouth. But that’s not the hole he intends to claim tonight.

Sure enough, he soon pulls out of my mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva connects the tip of his cock to my bottom lip for a moment before breaking up. Like a leash of spit.

"On the bed, Princess," Daddy says. "Ass up, face down."

I scramble to obey, assuming the position he requires. There may be no room for smarts and facts in my silly head, but there’s plenty of memorization for the postures he prefers.

I’m decorative. His ornament. I hear him moving behind me and I shiver in anticipation.

Daddy’s hand caresses my ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh. Then, SMACK! His palm connects with my cheek in a sharp spank. I yelp, more from surprise than pain.

He does it again, and again. I lean into it, grateful and mewling, because I know that’s how men tame lesbian bimbos like me until we fall in line: with a heavy hand, and a quiet word.

When the spanks stop coming, I know to arch my back and present myself to him fully. I know that he is ready.

The head of his cock nudges against the entrance to my cunt, and I inhale sharply. I’m suck a lucky bimbo slut, getting to serve him like this.

Daddy pushes forward, sliding into me, inch by inch. I love how my cunt gives way, parting for him, just like my mind did for his will. I'm wet and ready for him, but he's still so big. It's always an adjustment.

He bottoms out, his hips flush against my ass, and pauses. Lets me feel every throbbing inch of him buried inside me. I clench around him involuntarily and he groans.

Then he starts to move. Long, deep strokes that have me gasping. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he pistons in and out. The room fills with the slick sounds of male flesh slapping against female flesh. Breaking it in. Putting it to good use.

My eyes roll back and my toes curl. It's so good. He's ruining me. I used to be a lesbian, now I lose IQ points over cock. And it’s okay, because it turns out I’m not a person anymore.

I never should have been.

Daddy reaches around to grab my tits, twisting and tugging at my nipples. Sharp sparks of pleasure-pain shoot straight to my clit. I'm panting and moaning like a bitch in heat.

Which I am.

My cunt clenches and flutters around his pistoning cock as my orgasm builds. He feels it too and doubles his efforts.

"That's it, Princess. Cum for Daddy," he says in a raspy voice, reaching down to rub tight circles on my clit.

That’s it. That does me in. I shatter.

My body convulses as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me. I'm only vaguely aware of Daddy's answering groan as my spasming pussy milks his cock.

But he doesn't stop. He fucks me through my orgasm and beyond, until I'm a whimpering, overstimulated mess. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. It's too much, but I take it, because that's what Daddy wants.

But Daddy wants more than to just cum in me. He wants me to beg. And what Daddy wants, Daddy gets.

"Please Daddy, please please please fill my pussy up," I say, in a pitch that says I’m feminine, weak, horny, ready to get knocked up. "Breed me Daddy, I’ll do anything… make me yours, put a baby in me, pretty pretty pretty please!"

Raven would be horrified down to her core. Good thing she’s not around. Jewels, the perfect bimbo princess, knows her place. Her purpose.

I knew today was gonna be the day, even though I’m just a dumb bitch and I’m not really built to know things. I could just feel it. It was building up to this moment. Sooner or later, Daddy had to complete his masterpiece, and what better way to fully undyke me than this?

This is what I'm for, in the end. A receptacle. A vessel. An incubator for Daddy's seed.

So when he hilts himself inside me one last time, when I feel the hot ropes of his cum spurting out, I don't fight it. I accept it. Welcome it.

"Thank you, Daddy," I say as he collapses on top of me, his softening cock still nestled in my cum-slick cunt. He grunts in response and I just lie here for a while, pinned into the mattress under his weight. Thinking.

As much as a girl’s brain is capable of, anyway.

It’s a weird thing, the passage of time, the way things change. How they start, and how they go, the contrast between them. Between who I once was, and who Daddy made me into.

Raven, so defiant and sure of herself. Jewels, so soft and submissive.

Raven, who never had an interest in men. Jewels, who would pick cock over oxygen any day of the week.

Raven, a dyke through and through. Jewels, Daddy's eager breeder.

Daddy slowly, methodically molded me into exactly what he wanted. And now that he’s knocked me up, I know there's no going back.

There are two parts to this, but ‘how it started’ is no longer one of them. That doesn’t matter anymore. Raven is gone, snuffed out in Daddy’s grip.

The two parts are how it’s going, and how it ends. And this… the sealing of my biological destiny, the irrevocable end of my independence…

This is how it ends.

THE END