Trial of the Father

You all say that you want monstergirl daughterus, but you don't know what it's like to raise one.

 

I've been happily married to my scylla wife for about four years, and we finally decided to have a child. Being a monster, her child developed rather quickly, and when she gave birth, that poor child came out with malformed arms, and shriveled tentacles. The doctor said that this was a highly lethal condition, and that he'd have to take off her limbs if we wanted to keep her alive. I couldn't say 'no'.

 

Thankfully, she managed to survive the operation, and my wife finally thought of a name for her. "Emily". Emily was the most adorable damn thing I have ever laid eyes upon. Her arms were stubby, and her legs looked like miniature sausages. She wriggled, tossed and turned in her mothers arms, trying to get comfortable. When she opened her eyes for the first time,  she looked directly at me, pointed one of her little weenie-legs in my direction, and mumbled "Baba". There was something in her voice that made my eyes water with joy.

 

Emily grew up pretty quickly. My wife wanted to take her on her first swim, so we drove out to the beach. When we finally got there, Emily asked me, "Daddy, is this where you met Mommy?"

 

In reality, I met my wife on a dating website, but I decided to play along. My wife smiled, and told Emily that she could meet a man like her dad if she learned how to swim. I wish I could show you the eager look on Emily's face as her mother set her down in the water. She tried as hard as she could, but she couldn't get her little nubs to propel her through the water. So, like any good father, I gave her a helping hand. When we were finally done playing, she asked me a question that made my heart sink.

 

"Daddy, when can I swim on my own?"

 

The thing about scyllas is that, unlike their animal cousins, they don't have the ability to regenerate missing limbs. But, I couldn't tell her that. Instead, I told her that she had to grow a little more before she could swim.

 

Years passed, and Emily hadn't grown an inch. Somehow, she managed to remain hopeful in her ignorance. Our family was so close that it was almost cheesy, in a way. My wife and I didn't mind all of the work that went into taking care of her, and she didn't seem to care about being dependent on us. At least, that's what I thought.

 

One day, I she stopped me while I was passing by her room. Once again, she asked me a question that made my heart fall through my gut.

 

"Daddy, I'm never going to grow, am I?"

 

I couldn't spit out an answer, so I let my silence do the talking. She broke into tears, wailing that she'd never fall in love, or swim. She'd never live the life of a normal girl. She said that she hated me, that she never wanted to talk to me again.

 

For some reason, I thought that she'd get over it. I guess I was desperate. She never did speak a word to me after that day. Sometimes, she'd ask my wife to call the police, because there was a stranger in the house. It hurt, being hated by the one you've raised, by the one you've given so much to. But, I couldn't blame her.

 

I was a terrible father. Much to my wife's disapproval, I left the house, hoping to redeem myself. I knew it was useless, but I couldn't stop myself.

 

I was determined to find my daughter someone to love.