Nicholas's Story

©2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.

.oOo.

Once we were on the highway, I spoke up, "Who are you?"

"I'm going to be your new daddy, Son." He looked at me and smiled tenderly. I can still hear his voice dubbing me with the title "Son." I was no longer to be a bitch. He reached into the back seat and pulled up a shopping bag. "Here, these are for you, Son." I looked inside and saw brand new clothes. "Go on, try them on, Son. I hope they fit OK."

I pulled off my holey t and unwrapped a new striped button-down shirt. I slipped it on and buttoned the buttons. Then I pulled out a pair of Superman briefs and a new pair of stone washed jeans. I held them both up. "Which pants should I put on, uh, Daddy?"

He smiled and said, "Both. First you put on the underwear and then the jeans." I started to giggle; I had never worn two pairs of pants at once. I slipped out of the cutoffs and the man smiled as I wiggled my little ass into my new clothes. Finally, I kicked off the flip-flops and put on a new pair of white socks, and a pair of loafers which fit perfectly.

He was still smiling at me. "Well, what do you say?"

"They're nice."

"So what do you say when you get something nice?" Now I was worried. I didn't know what he wanted me to say. Apparently, there were some secret answers I knew nothing about. If I didn't come up with the magic word, maybe he would make me take off my new clothes. Maybe he would turn around and bring me back to Father.

"Uh, I don't know, uh, Daddy." I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

"It's simple, Son. You say, 'Thank you, Daddy.'" He was still smiling.

I laughed. "Thank you, Daddy," I shouted with relief. I'd never been taught this simple courtesy. It was the first of many lessons my new daddy was to teach me.

He pulled off the road into a rest area and we climbed out. First, he bent down and rebuttoned my shirt. I had somehow come out with an extra buttonhole on one side. Then he gave me a hug and a kiss, two more things I'd never gotten from Father. He pulled my old clothes out of the car and threw them in a garbage can. To him, this was simply discarding some worthless rags. To me, it was getting rid of the first seven years of my life. My days as a bitch were now in that can.

He got two sodas from a machine and we sat on a picnic table and drank them. "What's your name, Son?" I shrugged and kept drinking my coke. "Well, what did Father call you?"

"Bitch." I kept on drinking.

"No, you will need a proper name now, Son." He looked me over carefully. "Nicholas. How does 'Nicholas' sound to you?" I shrugged again. "OK, 'Nicholas' it is then. I love you, Son." He reached over and kissed my head. I know I smiled.

We drove for several hours. I had never been more than a few miles from Father's house, so I was staring at all the wondrous sights that we passed. We made a stop for lunch at a diner, and another stop for gas, but mostly we kept driving. Daddy asked some questions about what I liked to do, but I know my answers weren't very satisfactory. Then he taught me to sing songs like "Old MacDonald." He tried to teach me to play "I Spy" but he realized I didn't know any words that started with A. So we looked at the clouds in the afternoon sky and tried to guess what animals we saw in them.

The sun was already down when we got to Tucson and arrived at my new home, a coop apartment on the top floor of a four story building. I thought the place was heaven. In the main room was a TV set, a couch, some chairs, a coffee table, and a big case full of books. An alcove held the kitchen where a refrigerator was filled will more food than I had ever seen. The bathroom had both a shower and a tub. And the bedroom had a huge king-sized bed, a dresser for Daddy and one for me, a closet for each of us, and a toy chest. My dresser and closet were already stocked with clothes, and the toy chest was jammed with play things. "Nicholas. Welcome home, Son."

"Thank you, Daddy." I hugged him tight.

That evening, Daddy cooked a delicious meal for us, and we watched TV while I played with my new toys. Then we took our clothes off, got into the tub together and spent a long time luxuriating in the warm lather, Daddy's arms wrapped around me, as I sat between his legs. After he toweled me dry, he handed me my first-ever pajamas, a military camouflage design that matched his own. We climbed into the big bed and huddled together.

"You make me very happy, Nicholas, my Son."

"I do? Really?" I felt him hold me tighter and now my bottom was pressed against his mantool.

"Yes, Son, really."

"I'm happy too. Daddy. This is the best day of my whole life. Thank you, Daddy."

"I love you, Son."

"I love you too, Daddy."

"I want to show you how much I love you." Daddy kept whispering softly in my ear as he lowered my pj's off my ass.

"Do you want my bitch-hole, Daddy?" I was willing to do anything to please this wonderful man.

"No, Son. You are not a bitch any more. We will never use that word. And this,..." he put his gentle finger on my anus, "...this is a love hole." With that, Daddy scooched down in the bed and began licking my ass crack. I had been fucked countless times but no one had ever taken the time to engage in foreplay. This was a new sensation for me. I closed my eyes and moaned as Daddy's wet tongue darted in and out of my "love hole." Then he reached for a tube on the bedside table. Soon, I felt a wonderful slipperiness on my ass, as his gentle fingers massaged my hole. When his turgid cock entered me, it was nothing like any of my previous fucks. It didn't hurt. I didn't scream. It felt perfect. I moaned softly as Daddy shot his load into my love hole. He whispered, "I have inseminated you, Nicholas. I have conceived you tonight as my own flesh." I did not understand what he meant. But somehow I knew that with that fuck, he made me his son. I now had his lifejuice in me. His genes swirled about inside my body. I was his own true son now. We fell asleep.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of new adventures for me. Daddy brought me to parks and zoos and beaches. We ate in real restaurants. We went into stores and he bought me whatever lit up my young eyes. He showed me off to his friends, introducing me as Nicholas, his son. These were not like Father's so-called "friends." These people didn't want to use Daddy's new son for their own lust. There were married couples, single parents raising children of their own, and just normal folk who came by on weekends for barbecues and evenings for bridge. When we saw them on the streets or in the stores, they'd wave and shout "Hi, Nicholas!"

On the playgrounds, I found out that boys played games together and I could join in. It was all so new and so wonderful. I joined a soccer team and little league and Daddy made sure he was at every one of my games.

Daddy read books to me and I quickly discovered that those strange squiggles on the page were letters and they could magically be rearranged to stand for words. At seven, I was a late bloomer but I made up for it. Daddy taught me to read and write, and add numbers. In the fall, he brought me to school and enrolled me in second grade. I had never been inside a classroom or interacted with a teacher and classmates, but I knew how to obey when the teacher told me to do something, just as I had obeyed Father and the older women bitches. I was anxious to learn, both for my own sake and in order to please Daddy. Every day, I would run up the stairs to our apartment and excitedly tell Daddy all the new things I had learned. He made sure I did my homework before playing with my toys.

Every night, we cuddled in bed and told, in words and actions, how much we loved each other. He fucked me often enough, but some nights we simply 69'ed or just kissed and hugged. Other times, Daddy felt mischievous and we'd wrestle or rim each other or do silly naked dances.

I discovered the year was full of holidays designed for little boys like me, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. Each month brought a new celebration that had never been mentioned in Father's house. I also discovered that the other boys in my class each had his own special holiday called a birthday. "Daddy?" I asked one evening in the bathtub, as his loving arms were wrapped round me.

"What is it, Son?"

"Do I have a birthday?"

"Of course you do, Nicholas. Everybody has a birthday."

"When is my birthday?"

"Well, that is a very good question, Nicholas. You are a very smart boy to ask such an important question. Let me see. Father never told me your birthday. I don't think he even knew. Things like that were not important to him. So we will have to find a very special way to discover your birthday." I could tell Daddy was thinking hard. We finished bathing, and Daddy toweled me off and wrapped me up in my big warm terrycloth robe. We went to the kitchen and he took the calendar off the wall. He flipped back a few months and pointed to a day that had a big red circle around it. "Do you remember what happened that day, Nicholas?"

I stared at the date, and tried to think. So much had happened to me in the intervening months. "Uh, is that the day I came home with you?"

"You are so smart, Nicholas! Yes."

"That was the best day of my whole life, Daddy."

"For me, also, Son. For me, also. And do you remember our first night in bed together, Son?"

"Of course, Daddy. It was super. You made love to me. And you said some things too. I'm not sure what they meant, but they sounded real nice. And they made me feel really loved."

"Nicholas, you have a wonderful memory. No wonder you are so smart. Yes, I told you I had inseminated you, Nicholas. I told you I had conceived you. That's the way babies are born, Nicholas. From their Daddy's love juice."

"I seen when babies was born. The mommy bitches get all fat and then after a long time the babies come out of their bitch holes." I saw Daddy frowning. "I'm sorry. I forgot. I'm not supposed to use that word no more."

"That's right, Son. We never use the B word. But you are right, it does take a long time. Nine months. So let's see...." Daddy began flipping over the calendar pages. "...If you were conceived on that wonderful day, then your birthday would be, seven, eight, nine, here!!" Daddy drew a big birthday cake on the date nine months after he first inseminated me. I giggled. I was so happy. I finally had a real birthday!

"How old will I be then, Daddy?"

"Hehe, well you are much too big to be a newborn, Son. In fact, you keep getting bigger every day! I think on your first birthday, we're going to say you are eight years old. How's that, Son?"

Every day, when I came home from school, I would flip the calendar pages and locate my birthday. I couldn't wait for that special day to arrive. Days passed into weeks and weeks passed into months and then there were fewer and fewer pages to flip each day. Daddy and I began making plans for my first-ever birthday party. We invited all the boys in my class and when the wonderful day finally arrived, we had a real cake with eight candles, and ice cream and cookies and party hats. We played pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and whacked a piñata. And I got presents, lots and lots of presents!!!

Daddy made me so happy, I almost forgot about my early years with Father. And I'm sure I made Daddy happy also. Sometimes, after our bath, we would be lying in bed, in no hurry to put on our pajamas. He would have one strong arm around my shoulders and with his other hand, he would point to my body parts. "Son, I love your boy nose; it is so cute. I love your boy hair, the way it never lies flat. I love your cute ears and your adorable lips. I love your smooth chin. I love your little nipples and your smooth chest. I love your boy arms; I see you're getting some muscles, Son. I even love your armpits." At this point, he would raise my arm and lick my pit and I'd giggle. "I love your smooth belly and that precious belly button. I love your tiny boy dick and your tiny boy nuts." And then he would fondle them so lovingly. "They are so smooth. Just like your lovely smooth bottom and your beautiful smooth legs." It seemed like Daddy's favorite word for my body was "smooth."

I had a great ten-speed bike that I rode all over the neighborhood, racing with my friends. I had a big collection of action figures. Sometimes, my friends invited me over to their houses for sleepovers, although we never did much sleeping. We joked a lot, and ate a lot. I noticed that my friends had their own bedrooms. When I asked Daddy about that, he said our bedroom could be mine, as long as he was allowed to come in it. I laughed, but he was serious. He hired a decorator and soon the bedroom was repainted and decorated in a basketball theme. Daddy's closet was enlarged to accommodate his dresser, and so I truly had my very own room! And, of course, I always invited Daddy to sleep in my room. Except when I had boy friends come for sleepovers; then Daddy sweetly slept on the couch in the living room, and pretended he always slept there.

Daddy taught me to cook. I helped him clean the apartment, but it didn't seem like a chore, because we worked together. He took me hiking and fishing in the mountains, and in the summers we went on long trips all over the country. My friends went to summer camp, but they said they were jealous of me. One time, Daddy asked me to pick two of my closest friends, and the four of us spent a week at Disney World.

I couldn't imagine how life could possibly be any better. Every birthday, as I stared at the candles and got ready to blow them out, nine candles, ten candles, eleven candles, I always thought back to the night Daddy conceived me, the night I became his real true son.

.oOo.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.