Daddy Loves My Clothes Pt. 01

I walk into the kitchen on a bright, Sunday morning. Mom is seated at the table while Dad prepares whatever we're having for breakfast. The smell of roasted potatoes and eggs fill the kitchen. I'm wearing a pair of red and black plaid pajama shorts, and a tight, matching t-shirt. It's an outfit Mom has rolled her eyes at me for wearing in the past, but it's too comfy to not put on.

It's just the three of us in the house - and it's been that way for nineteen years. Mom and Dad met when they were in their early twenties, quickly got pregnant, and then had me. Now, Mom is forty-two, and still quite stunning. I definitely resemble her in our five foot, five inch height, long, dirty blonde hair, and our petite figures... though Mom has definitely put on a few pounds over the last few years from stress at her job. The only feature I inherited from Dad are his green eyes. Mom's are blue. Dad has always towered over both of us. He stands at a sterdy six foot, three inches. He weighs around two hundred and thirty pounds and is still in excellent shape from frequenting the gym and healthy dieting.

"Good morning," I say to both of them enthusiastically.

"Good morning, dear," Mom exhales under her breath.

"Hey baby, how did you sleep?" Dad asks me with bright eyes and a warm smile.

I am definitely a daddy's girl. Even now at nineteen years old, I know I can pretty much get anything I want from him -- though I use that privilege sparingly.

I take a seat at the table and respond, "I slept great! Weird dreams, but very well rested!"

Dad smiles and curiously answers, "Oh yeah? Weird dreams? Like what?"

Mom rolls her eyes and asks, "Connor, what does it matter? They were just silly dreams."

Dad and I exchange glances as he smiles and says, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Ready for some food, Raya?"

My name is Andrea, but they like to call me Raya (ray-uh) for short. Something Dad came up with when I was just a baby.

"Yeah, I'm starving! Bring it on!"

We ate breakfast almost in silence. There seems to be some kind of tension between Mom and Dad, which frankly, wasn't anything new. Since I had been back in the house from college, it's like I've slowly watched them drift further and further apart. I can't understand why. Mom always seems so stressed and upset, and Dad, so care free and jovial. Maybe it's a depression thing.

As we finish up, Mom thanks Dad and smiles at me, and then walks off from the table and goes downstairs to her office to dig into some of her work. She is most definitely a workaholic and almost seems most content while doing it. Dad and I do the dishes together as he looks over at me.

"So what do you have planned today, Raya? Anything exciting? Mountain climbing? Bunjee jumping?"

I laugh and respond, "No, no. Nothing that crazy. I was thinking of doing some shopping though. I still need a whole bunch of clothes. A complete closet overhaul."

Dad looks suspiciously at me as he solemnly asks, "And what about the money I gave you last week? Where did that go? I thought that was going towards this little overhaul."

I giggle and explain, "What, the fifty dollars? I appreciate it Daddy, but that only got me like... one top and a skirt. If I really want to bring in the new, I'll definitely need some more."

He looks confused again as he asks, "You need to get rid of everything? I can't believe that. There's gotta be some things you can keep."

I fold my arms over one another and smile as I respond, "If I want to look ragged, maybe. Seriously, it's time. I already went through all of them!"

As he dries off his hands, he walks over to the kitchen table and takes a seat and has a sip of his coffee. He then looks up and says, "Okay, maybe I'm just out of touch on prices for these things these days. What are you typically paying for all your clothes? How much are tops, jeans, shorts...?"

I walk over and have a seat across from him, folding my hands together as I explain, "Well... a pair of shorts is like thirty dollars. Tops are about twenty. A skirt... about thirty. Dresses are around forty to sixty. Jeans are like fifty..."

He interrupts me and exclaims, "Sixty dollars for a dress?! That's insane!"

I laugh and say, "That's not even everything! Even my underwear are expensive! Panties are like five to ten dollars per pair, and bras are fifteen to twenty."

He stops me again and says, "Okay, okay, I think I got it. Why don't we do this: You show me an article of clothing that, in your mind, needs to go, and I'll give you the money for a replacement. When we're done, we can tally it up and you can run off and get what you need. Fair enough?"

I smile and nod my head in agreement. "That sounds fair enough! You'll see. I'm in major need of some funds to replace all of this stuff."

He chuckles again and says, "Yeah, yeah. We'll see. Here, how about you go figure everything out and we meet in the living room?"

I stand up from my seat and say, "Okay, see you in there!"

I hurry down the hall into my room and walk over to my large walk-in closet. Thankfully, I had already done the hard work of going through everything and taking the stuff down that I didn't want anymore. I would just need to convince Dad that they needed to go, too.

I grab two pairs of jeans from the pile and walk back out into the living room where I find him sitting. I hold them up as I say, "See, remember these? They are so old. So it would be one hundred for these two..."

He laughs and says, "Nice try, Raya. You have to try them on! Then we can see if they really need to go."

I roll my eyes as I sigh and grumble, "Fiiiine," in a bratty tone. I walk back down the hall into my room and quickly strip out of the red shorts, down to a pair of full black panties. I pull up the light-colored jeans first, and struggle as I try my best to squeeze into them. My midriff is still exposed in the little top. I walk down the hall and round the corner as I dramatically say, "See? They're so tight. I can hardly breathe."

He laughs as he responds, "Okay, fine. Maybe those have gotten a little snug on you. I think I can help you there. What is that... fifty?"

I smile as I nod my head and turn back around to return to my room. Next, I remove the light colored jeans and pull up the darker jeans. Similar problems occur with how tight they are. They are so short they nearly fit like capris. I quickly move back into the living room.

As soon as I walk in, he says, "Oh, no way! It feels like we bought those for you a year ago. They already don't fit?"

I giggle and say, "It's been over a year now! And no, they don't fit at all. Squats are the culprit."

He laughs and says, "Are they snug in the back too?"

I roll my eyes again and turn around, showcasing the way I nearly break through the seams in the back of the jeans. After a few more moments, he finally concedes.

"Fine, I guess that's another fifty then. What else, Raya?"

I walk back down the hall and into my room. It's almost easier than I thought it would be. He has already agreed to give me one hundred dollars and we still have so many garments to go.

I look through the pile and sort it all out. A few pairs of shorts, some tops, a few skirts, and a few dresses. There is a little pile of bras and panties too, but I figure I can just give him a count on those. Walking around the house in my underwear isn't really the norm these days. I remember when I went to the kitchen a few weeks ago in just a pair of panties and a t-shirt. Mom gave me a very dirty look. I don't want to think this way, but it might be jealousy?

I strip out of the jeans and the red pajama top, standing in just the black panties. I pull up a little pair of cut-off jean shorts and fasten them. They are very little on me, and my cheeks have very little coverage in the back. I then pull over a tight, black tank top. It presses against my cleavage and shows half of my stomach. I make my way back down the hall. I had a feeling I already knew how the shorts would be received.

As I walk in, his eyes widen.

"Raya, what the hell are those? Are those shorts or underwear? I can barely tell. Have I been letting you leave here in those? Turn around."

I laugh and add, "I told you! I wasn't lying."

I do as he asks and I turn around to show off the back. He pauses for a moment and then finally speaks up.

"Well you definitely won't go out in those again. We'll need to get you new ones. What's that -- thirty more? For shorts that don't show the world your whole ass, that's a small price to pay. And that top is way too small on you. Another fifteen?"

I giggle and say, "I have another like these, so probably sixty. The other pair is even worse. And tops are twenty, remember?"

He folds his arms over one another and insists, "I find it hard to believe you have anything smaller than these ones, honey."

I confidently look back at him and say, "I definitely do. Hold on..."

I walk quickly back to my room, shedding the little shorts and top and replacing them with the next. A very tight pair of black athletic shorts, fitting more like boy shorts, and a gray sports bra that I haven't worn in years. They almost looked silly on me, being so small, but they did accentuate my more womanly features; Especially my long tone legs. I return to the living room to show them off.

As I walk in, I hear him mutter, "Jesus, Raya. You haven't been going to the gym in that, have you?"

I laugh and respond, "No! Of course not! Just workouts in my room. Lots of yoga."

He looks relieved as he says, "Good. Those will need to be donated too. Or just worn at home for your yoga."

He looks me up and down several more times before I say, "All right, skirts and dresses?"

He smiles anxiously and jokes, "At the risk of giving me a heart attack, yeah, go ahead."

I walk back off to my room, and strip off the little shorts, the sports bra, and the panties this time. I was ready for a full outfit change. I pull up a pair of pink and white striped panties that definitely do not fit as well as they used to. I then pull a cute floral dress over my head, covering my body. It is ruffled in the shoulders. The dress is white with a variety of little flower colors and combinations throughout the pattern. It isn't very low cut, still covering most of my cleavage. It is, however, quite short. A slight bend would likely expose the cotton material underneath.

I prance back out to the living room, seeing Mom in the kitchen grabbing herself a drink. I'm standing in the middle of the room in the little dress, and Dad is seated on the couch as she walks in.

Dad smiles and says, "Raya is showing me which of her clothes need to go and be replaced. She wasn't kidding. Do you want to join the fashion show? You could be a judge... or maybe another model?"

Mom laughs sarcastically at the suggestion and says, "No, no. I have more work to do. I do like this dress a lot, but it might be a little short on you now, honey." She starts to walk back to her office and adds, "You two have fun!"

Dad smiles at me as he inspects my dress, tucking his hand under his chin as he thinks.

"I remember buying this one for you too. Your Mom's right, it looks good on you, but maybe a bit short? Let's see the back."

I turn around and respond, "I think you're both right. I did notice that when I bend over, I'm definitely showing too much."

Dad laughs and says, "Come on, I'm sure it isn't too bad, sweetie."

I slowly start to bend forward as the back of the short dress raises up the back of my thighs, uncovering the little pink and white striped panties bunched against my cheeks.

After a few seconds, I look back and say, "Well? Still think it fits?"

Dad looks a little flustered; probably not expecting to see so much of me. His face turns slightly red as he stammers for a moment.

"I ... uhm. Yeah, that dress probably needs to go. Are the panties a little small too, baby?"

Still facing away from him, I think for a second and say, "I mean, yeah. They are a little tight, you know?"

I pull up the bottom of the dress to show off my plump cheeks barely hidden by the little bit of cotton covering them. He looks at them a little bit longer this time. It's hard to tell what precisely he is thinking.

Finally, he says, "Well, we did say that was part of it. So what, sixty for the dress, ten for your... those..."

Giggling, I cut him off and ask, "My panties?"

He chuckles and says, "Yeah, those. Wasn't sure what you girls like to call them these days."

He is acting somewhat strangely. Likely just seeing too much of his daughter. Dad's are always a little weird about their daughters growing up. It's probably just something along those lines.

"Okay, well, perfect! I will run and get changed again!"

I run back down the hall and strip off the dress and the pink and white panties. Next, I find a pair of seamless, white panties. Once again, they are a size too small. I then pick up a pleated, light denim skirt and pull it up. Next, a matching denim halter top. The skirt is extremely short from being older, and the halter top can barely contain my cleavage from spilling out. My long legs and midriff are exposed as I return to the living room. Dad laughs as soon as he sees me.

"You look like a Barbie doll, sweetie! Go on, let's see it all."

I do a quick turn around to provide a three hundred, sixty degree view.

Dad smiles at me and says, "I think I owe you even more money, Raya. These are obviously too small for you, too. If you wore this out, guys would be on you like piranhas. So, what's that, eighty?"

I nodded my head and added, "yeah, but also underneath, remember?"

It is so awkward, showing off the panties. I try to give him an out, in case it's too uncomfortable.

I cross one ankle over the other as I suggest, "Actually, I can just tell you how many pairs I have that need to go, and we can just add up the total."

He chuckles again and playfully says, "Yeah, nice try. Then I'll just be buying you everything on display at Victoria's secret. I'm onto you!"

I giggle and say, "noo, I wouldn't do that!"

He smiles back at me and sarcastically says, "Yeah, sure." He pauses for a moment and adds, "Seems like you're trying to get a little more money, huh? Maybe we can turn this into some kind of game. Make it interesting. How about this: if I can guess the color of your panties correctly, you get nothing except the ten. But if I get it wrong, you get twenty. How's that?"

I laugh, considering the ridiculousness of the offer, but see it as a no-lose scenario for me. I smile and say, "All right, deal! Sooo.... what color do you think I have on?" I place my hands on my hips and move them back and forth slowly as I await his guess.

He smirks and thinks for a few moments. "Let's see... denim set... short skirt. I'm going to guess... gray?"

I smile victoriously as I turn around and lift up some of the skirt. "Wrong! They're just white this time!" I show him the full backside of the panties as he smiles with slight defeat written on his face.

"Okay, okay. You got lucky. So that's twenty for this pair. Go on and change into your next outfit, honey. I'm sure I'll get it right on the next one!"

I laugh as I make my way back to my room and strip out of all of the garments. Next, I put on a little black set; a lace thong and bra. The thong is itty-bitty, and is snug against my most sensitive areas. The bra is tight against my chest. I then pull over a little red dress. It's rather tight and short on me. Fairly low cut, showing a trace of the black bra underneath. The thong is mostly hidden, but the straps can be made out a little under the tight dress. The length is short, resting high up my thighs. I prance back out to the living room to find him in the same spot.

He thinks for a moment and says, "Really, you don't like that dress honey?"

I do a quick spin and answer, "Nope, I don't love the way it fits anymore. It's just a little too tight in some areas. Anything I wear underneath it can be seen so easily."

He inspects me again for a moment and smirks as he says, "Yeah, I did notice that. And I'm sorry to say, I do know it's black underneath, so nothing extra."

My mouth opens wide, playfully annoyed. "Hey! That's not fair, I can't help it! I shouldn't have even worn anything underneath for this dress, I guess."

His eyebrows raise at the mention of that idea. He seems to realize it isn't really fair as he suggests, "Okay, okay, maybe that wasn't totally fair. If you're sure you want the dress to go, let's just look at what's underneath. If we think they have to go too, I'll give you double for them. That way you aren't missing out."

Did he just ask me to strip down in front of him? Down to just my underwear? I mean, it is just underwear, but it's a thong, and a lace bra... and we're in the living room. And this can't be a normal father-daughter activity.

I look at him a little peculiarly, but then decide to call the bluff. "Okay, deal," I say as I reach down and lift the little dress up over my head, exposing the little black thong I have on, the little lace bra, and all of my warm, sun-kissed skin - areas typically only on display in bikinis. I drop the dress on the floor beside me.

After a few seconds, with my hands on my hips, I ask, "See how small they both are? These have definitely run their course."

He looks frozen in time as he stares at my exposed figure without as much as a peep. Finally, he speaks up and says, "No, I think you're right. I think they look great, but definitely too small. I'm sure the back is almost non-existent, huh?"

I turn around and show off the view from the back. The lace fabric is wedged between my round cheeks and can only be seen on my hips from that vantage point.

I add, "Yeah, which isn't bad if everything is the right size. But it's just too tight. Whenever I put them on, I just want to rip them off!"

He laughs and says, "Okay, okay. Well a deal is a deal. Twenty for the undies and thirty for the bra."

I correct him and say, "And fifty for the dress?"

He smiles and agrees, "Yes, and fifty for the dress. You're really cleaning me out, Raya," he says jokingly. "Pretty soon, I'll be dipping into the ol' retirement fund."

I pick up the dress and say, "Yeah right, I know you're good for it. I've seen you and mom's closets!"

He smiles fonly at me as I walk back over to my room, a little nervous about running into mom, so moving quicker to return unseen. It would have been a little awkward to explain. I quickly snap off the bra and throw it in the discard pile.

I can't believe I just stripped down in front of him like that. I mean, he suggested it, but it was still a strange feeling. It didn't feel bad. Just a little odd, and maybe a little wrong. This was a very bizarre game we were playing, but I was going to get so much money from it. I had no intentions of stopping now.

I decide to keep the same black thong on for the next outfit. Maybe I can pass it off as a different one and get an extra twenty dollars.

I pull up a little black tennis skirt - definitely the shortest of the skirts and dresses thus far, and then I pull over a hot pink sports bra. I then return to the living toom where Dad sits and waits.

As I walk in, he smirks and says, "Let me guess, too tight, too small, or too short, and need money?"

This activity is definitely getting repetitive, but he suggested it. He wanted this to be a fashion show after all, so I'm just giving him one.

I smile and answer, "Bingo. This sports bra is too small, and the skirt is too short. I can barely move in it without showing everything underneath. Oh, and another pair of panties that are too small too."

He folds his arms over one another, seated on the couch, and requests, "Oh yeah? Let's see. I'm going to guess... red this time?"