Based on the short story:
Happy Birthday Daddy
by Frank McCoy
Note to the reader: I don’t normally do this type of mother/father/daughter story, because I don’t like father/daughter scenarios. But a reader sent me a Frank McCoy story some months ago and asked if I’d do a Tasty Little Pop Tart version for her. I agreed, and sent my version back. Recently, she suggested that I post my version for all the other mother/father/daughter fans out there. Reluctantly, I agreed again. And now I’m glad that I did. Because it’s turned out that Elizabeth Donahue may be my favorite character ever. I am considering writing a sequel, if anyone wants to read it.
Anyway, here it is. I hope you like it.
Elizabeth was 14 years old. She was a cute little thing, with braces, burnished mahogany hair, equally dark eyes, and a nearly flawless complexion. She wore her hair straight, almost to her waist, and stood 5’1” and weighed 96 pounds. A miniature version of her mother in all things, save one.
“No, no, try this,” Mom said, handing Elizabeth a darling black, skater dress. Of course, Elizabeth loved it.
“You have such good taste for a mom,” she said teasingly. “Is it expensive?” Her eyes opened wide, reading the price tag. She eyed mom skeptically. “Really?”
Mom checked the tag in surprise and laughed. “It’s not your dad’s birthday every day, I guess. Even though he’ll hardly appreciate how good you’ll look in it. Try it on.”
“What about shoes?” Elizabeth asked hopefully.
“Don’t push your luck, young lady.”
Elizabeth grinned. “Black leggings?”
Mom pursed her lips. “I can’t decide. What do you think?”
“Leggings,” Elizabeth decided. “Definitely.”
While mom headed in search of the requisite leggings, Elizabeth browsed juniors underwear. It wasn’t anything she’d need for Dad’s birthday party, of course, but it was on the list Mom had agreed upon. She’d been after Mom for weeks to shop for underwear. Finally, Mom had agreed, killing two birds with one stone. She’d already picked out her selection when Mom came back.
“You better try those on,” Mom said of the three bras.
“I will,” Elizabeth answered, coloring a bit at the suggestion. What she had, sprung up only a few months ago, and having them after three years of blight, really embarrassed her. What she needed was training bras, she joked with her friends, all of whom resembled normal 14 year old’s. Mom looked at the tags, and then eyed Elizabeth critically.
“I hate that you’re growing up, peapod.”
“Had to happen sometime,” Elizabeth quipped. “I am in 9th grade.”
“Don’t remind me,” Mom grumbled. “My high-schooler. Go try this stuff on.”
Elizabeth bounced away, but stopped and turned after a few steps. “Sure I can’t invite a friend?”
Distracted by her pinging cell phone, Mom shook her head and dug in her bag. “Family only tonight. This is your Dad’s birthday. Now shoo.”
Grinning, Elizabeth continued on to the dressing rooms, while Mom read her text. It was worth a try, she thought.
Two rooms were empty and she picked the door on the left. It had a stubborn lock, but finally she got it engaged and hung up the dress. She really liked the bras, especially the navy blue one, and couldn’t wait to try it on.
Her top came off, exposing the plain vanilla number snugging her bantam breasts. It was finally getting outgrown, and her new bras were a more hopeful size 30A. In just a moment, her miniature boobies were bare, reflected in the mirror in all their glory. Too bad she and the other girls at school were the only ones to have seen them. No boys allowed; Mom kept her cooped up like a hen.
Just because, she kicked off her shoes, undid her skinny jeans, wiggled them down and kicked them off. Two seconds later, she stood before the mirror nude for her jewelry and anklets. A powerful shiver made her wiggle all over; she had to suppress a giggle. She liked getting naked in dressing rooms, she didn’t know why.
She turned back and forth for the mirror, letting it inspect her. She was so darned skinny. Turning completely around, she eyed her tight little backside. Tommy Cramer had smacked it this week in the hallway between classes. God, how she’d blushed. It was the second time he’d done it in the last month. She guessed he must like her butt. She wished he could see it now, bare, and that made her blush again.
The new bras fit perfectly. The purple was her favorite, surprisingly; she’d assumed it would be the navy blue. She twisted all about, checking the bra from every possible angle, deciding it looked good. She checked her bare bottom again, too; maybe Tommy would smack it again, someday maybe bare like this. She giggled, imagining him in the cubicle with her.
“I didn’t say take all day,” Mom prodded.
Startled and embarrassed, Elizabeth hurriedly removed the purple bra in exchange for her white one, put on her panties, and tried on the dress. It fit like a dream.
“Want to see it?” she asked
Mom made a disgusted sound. “Of course I want to see it, silly! Come out here.”
Elizabeth obeyed, fighting the lock for a moment to set herself free. She pirouetted for her mom, standing in the archway.
“That looks really good on you. Do you like it?”
“It’s not too short?”
“Of course it’s too short. It doesn’t touch the floor, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
“Did you try on the bras?”
Elizabeth blushed. “Mom!”
Mom sighed patiently. “It’s what dressing rooms are for. To ensure things fit. You aren’t the first barely 14-year-old to try on new bras.”
Hideously embarrassed now, Elizabeth shot glances all around and hissed, “Mom!” a second time. Mom laughed.
“OK, OK. Go change, so we can get out of here. We have other things to do.”
6 o’clock arrived, and exactly on schedule, Dad arrived home from work. “Well, look at you two!” he exclaimed in genuine surprise. “Oh, my God, babe...” He took in his wife, sheathed in a tight black dress, her stunningly big breasts practically spilling out over the bodice. Elizabeth had worked on her hair for an hour, and it looked elegant as the dress.
“Rebecca, wow...” Dad switched his gaze to his miniature Rebecca. “Elizabeth ... oh, my God, you’re all grown up! Look at you!” He grabbed up his beaming daughter and gave her a whirl. She giggled as he placed her onto her toes.
“Happy Birthday, Daddy!” she gushed, giving him a buzz on the cheek. Rebecca did likewise, and he clutched them both tight and kissed their foreheads.
“My birthday girls! Thank you, so much. Who needs presents with a wife and daughter like these?” He shocked Elizabeth by smacking her bottom the same way Tommy Cramer had done this week; of course, he also smacked his wife’s tightly-sheathed can. Elizabeth blushed bright red.
“So what does the birthday boy get tonight?” Dad asked. “Besides the obvious?”
This made Rebecca laugh, and Elizabeth blush even harder. She wished her dad would let her go. On the other hand, it felt good, being included in Dad’s lecherous enthusiasm. At once it made her feel all grown up, and decidedly a budding young girl.
“Dinner first,” Mom said, “and then a nice family evening with mom and daughter fulfilling all your wishes.”
Elizabeth blushed again, startled by Mom’s choice of words, thinking her face might self-ignite. In a flash of something like precognition, she imagined herself in Mom and Dad’s bedroom tonight, naked and smashed, being shared by the birthday boy and his voluptuous wife. The vision shattered as Dad smacked her rear end again, this time clutching his wife’s possessively.
Dinner was Dad’s favorite, of course: Peking duck. Though Elizabeth had assisted with dinner’s preparation, she was unaware of the liberal addition of ground marijuana leaves that Mom added to the stuffing. Garlic and the other seasonings masked its presence. Elizabeth wouldn’t know what she was consuming anyway, having never tasted ground marijuana. The stuffing tasted like stuffing to her. She did, however, catch the strange glances between Mom and Dad during the main course, and the ones Mom directed at her with practically every mouthful of stuffing. What was up, she wondered.
Another ingredient was added that Elizabeth knew nothing of, and of which even her dad knew little. An ancient formulation, passed from mother to daughter over numerous generations, added, in this case to the delicious stuffing, to secure a desired result. Not to get Elizabeth stoned. That was left to the potent marijuana leaves. The purpose of this 2nd ingredient was to prevent an assimilation, not foster one. Last used in 2001, it had successfully fulfilled its purpose 7 times in some 100 years. Further back ... who knows?
“Would you like some, sweetie?”
A little befuddled from the THC coursing through her bloodstream, it took a moment to realize her mom was asking if she’d like red wine.
“Really?” she asked, startled.
“I wouldn’t be asking, if it wasn’t okay,” Mom said, smiling mischievously.
She shot a glance at her dad, who looked on expectantly, fork halfway to his mouth. She also noted that neither Mom nor Dad had touched their small portions of stuffing. Her generous helping had gone rather quickly, and she’d gone back for more. “I’d love some,” she said, trying to act adult.
.... There is more of this story ...