Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This is an age-play fantasy intended for adults.  If you are offended by
such things, the simple solution is not to read it.  This fantasy story is
in no way advocating for any actual minors to be involved with actual
adults.

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ YOU PUT A SPELL ON ME ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Chapter 1

   Cecelia opened her eyes in surprise at sat straight up with a gasp at
6:37 on the morning of her fourth birthday, a throbbing hot feeling almost
itching between her legs.  She slowly peeled back her blanket, lifted her
nightgown, and looked between her legs to see what the matter was.  It
didn't look very different from what she could see, but then again, she
hadn't spent much time examining herself there at this point in her life.

   She decided she must have to pee and rushed into her bathroom.  Sitting
on the toilet she tried her best but nothing happened.  She rubbed her hand
against her private area, what her daddy called her peepee place or her
special place.  That only seemed to make things worse though.  Things felt
swollen and puffy and a little bit wet now, but slick and sticky not like
pee.  She looked at her fingers and it looked a little bit like if she'd
blown her nose.  Her face scrunched up with disgust and wiped her fingers
on her nightgown.  Just then she started to pee and the swollen feeling
faded away.

   Skipping back to the bedroom, Cecelia figured it must have just been
that after all.  She felt better after peeing and the slickness was gone.
She climbed back in bed and slept, dreaming of her party later.  Cake and
presents and pizza and playing with friends was in her future and by the
time she woke up again, the incident was mostly forgotten.

   She didn't remember it then, but this had happened to her at exactly
6:37am, the time of her birth, on every birthday of her short life so far.
At one year old it had only lasted five minutes and she had cried,
completely unable to process or communicate anything another way.  Her
father had come into the room and held her, rocking her back and forth,
grinning.  She didn't remember that either, but it soothed her at the time.

   At two she had again woken up and started crying.  She stood in her crib
and rubbed herself over her diaper and wailed until her father again picked
her up and bopped around the room with her, calming her down.  "You're a
good girl, it'll be ok soon," he said kissing her silky soft hair and
smelling the baby smell that she had.  The smell of her hair made him semi
hard.  It took ten minutes this time for her to settle.

   Three brought her waking up from her first night in her new "big girl
bed" (a low affair that was pink, ruffly, and had bumpers on all sides to
keep her from falling out), an early birthday gift, with a start.  She felt
the odd sensation for what she thought was the first time and ran (well,
toddled) into her dad's room and woke him up.  "Daddy!," she
shout-whispered at him.  "Daddy I feel tingly and funny!" She hopped around
from one foot to the other.  He rolled over, scooped her up and sat her on
his chest.  "Let's play horsey," he said sleepily, scooted her down, and
began to bounce her up and down on his leg, which was wedged firmly between
her own.  It was the most fun feeling horsey game she remembered but the
feeling kept building and didn't seem to be getting better.  They did this
for just shy of fifteen minutes before the feeling stopped.  Her dad seemed
to sense she was better and he tucked her into bed beside him and she fell
asleep snuggled against him.

   This morning, her fourth, the whole endeavor had lasted twenty minutes
and she didn't remember any of it having happened before.  It hadn't
occurred to her to seek help from her father this time.  What she didn't
realize was he'd still participated, watching her on cameras hidden in her
room, because he knew it would happen.  He'd made it this way.

   Wilson, Cecelia's father, was a very special man.  He was the descendent
of a long line of people touched with a bit of magic, for lack of a better
description.  Each person in his family seemed to be gifted with a slightly
different ability.  His father had the ability to almost, but not exactly,
communicate with animals.  He'd used this talent to become the best
veterinarian anyone had met.  He seemed to just know how to calm animals
and how to train them too.  His grandmother could affect electronics at a
short range.  Long before tv remotes had existed, she'd been able to change
the channel with just a look and a thought.  He'd heard her father was a
mean man capable of making others feel pain with the point of his finger.
He didn't have to get off the couch to discipline his children, as long as
they were in sight.

   Wilson however, his gift was of a sexual nature.  He had the power to
cause great arousal in others, and give them amazing orgasms if he wished.
He could also keep them from reaching orgasm, edging them along for as long
as he desired.  He thought sometimes he'd inherited just a touch of his
great grandfathers mean streak because it gave him pleasure sometimes to
deny a person their orgasm.

   When Cecelia's mother, Sarah, a woman he was dating rather casually at
the time, became pregnant with her, they gave it a shot.  She was dubious
about wanting a child, but she liked Wilson and he was enthusiastic about
the idea of a kid.  Marriage was discussed and dismissed as antiquated, and
besides, they weren't sure they were ready for that kind of legal
entanglement.

   Sarah and Wilson had a pretty great first six months of pregnancy.  He
used his abilities (she just thought him an especially skilled lover) to
keep her flush with orgasms and they settled into a routine.  As she got
bigger and the pregnancy begin to interfere with her work more, she started
to grow resentful of the situation.  She was an associate producer at a
local news station and didn't like being slowed down, needing more rest,
and the idea of having to stop working after the baby was born, even
temporarily.  Wilson never thought badly of her for this, he wouldn't have
wanted the impact on his life in her situation either.  But biology was
biology and Sarah was the one stuck with carrying the baby to term.

   Eight months in, Sarah came home from work to tell Wilson she'd been
offered a position with a national crew, but that it would require lots of
international travel.  It was a huge career move, an opportunity she
couldn't pass up, and she informed Wilson she'd be leaving as soon as she
was recovered after the baby was born.  This both crushed and thrilled him.
It was a slightly overwhelming idea that he would be raising this child
alone, but he also felt like with Sarah gone, he could do this on his terms
and give their child the best life possible.  Wilson worked from home
mainly anyway, doing IT consulting, so he'd expected to take on a bulk of
the childcare.  They agreed that Sarah would still be part of her
daughter's life (they'd found out by now it was to be a girl and picked out
a name - Cecelia Rose), if from a distance and infrequently.

   On May the 13th, Sarah went into labor.  This being her first child,
things took their time and it wasn't until around 6:00am on the 14th that
she began really pushing.  When that happened, Wilson readied himself for
an attempt at something others might consider strange, or even wrong, but
that he felt could foster a truly unique relationship between him and his
daughter.  As he'd been giving Sarah orgasms through her pregnancy, he'd
been pushing a little of that energy toward the baby.  Just enough to
hopefully imbue her with a little of his gift, or at least be a very sexual
person.  He felt it was one of the greatest gifts of being human.

   After a great deal of thought, he'd decided that he wanted his beautiful
daughter (she was already the prettiest person on the planet in his mind)
to be born on the waves of an orgasm.  He felt that if he could ensure that
she knew pleasure from her earliest days, she'd be a happier person and
happier people were healthier mentally and physically.  Plus, if he, her
father, helped her discover pleasure through her life, she wouldn't need to
rely of fumbling with inexperienced boys, risk unwanted pregnancy or
disease.  He could do something risky and brave and take control of an
aspect few others dared.

   As Sarah pushed he started to gently focus pleasure to her, timing it
with contractions and slowly slowly increasing the flow.  It didn't seem
that anyone else noticed when her moans of pain became moans of pleasure,
but as little Cecelia Rose emerged from her mother, it was in time with
pulses of ecstasy.  Sarah herself looked confused at the sensation.  It
hadn't erased all the pain but it had helped distract her.  She had read in
one of her birthing books about the possibility of orgasm during birth, but
she certainly didn't expect it to happen to her.  It was just too weird and
she kept it to herself, so she thought.

   Only a few weeks after Cecelia was both, Sarah was packing up and
heading out to Atlanta for her new job.  She hadn't felt too attached to
her daughter so far... that bonding they talked about seemed to be missing.
Watching Wilson dote on her though, that was heartwarming.  He'd often fall
asleep with the baby on his chest, both of them breathing in synch.  They
had a farewell party and while it was obvious some of their family and
friends felt this was an unorthodox decision, everyone was supportive.

   Wilson and his daughter (owner of many affectionate nicknames including
bubble, princess, snooky cheeks, and more) settled into as much of a
routine as a baby can have.  Life was good.  Yearly on her birthday he'd
push some pleasure energy to her.  He knew her early reactions of crying
were about being startled, not pain.  He was a little surprised that she
took matters into her own hands, so to speak, already at four, but it was
gratifying to watch her on camera, trying to figure out what was going on.
He made sure she got extra ice cream at her party later.

   Her fifth birthday was the first time she remembered the feeling between
her legs and in her tummy as something that had happened before.  She
didn't remember all the details of it, just that she'd felt this way
before. She didn't associate it with being sick, or anything bad, so she
investigated.  To her father's disappointment, watching on his tablet
propped up in bed, she was under the covers.  He could tell she was doing
something with her hands but he couldn't see anything.  This seemed to be a
good time to try out a few ideas he'd been having about how to further
manipulate her into things.

   Wilson switched to a screen on his tablet that controlled the house
functions - lights, temperatures, security, and the like.  He raised the
temperature in her room enough to make it feel rather warm.  A few minutes
later this paid off when Cece kicked off her blankets and he could see what
she was doing.  Her nightgown, pale pink with roses printed on it, was
hiked up to her waist and she was rubbing and pushing on her mound.  Then
she pulled her nightgown all the way off and resumed her probing.  He was
still familiar with what she looked like naked, from bathing her, but
seeing her this way was different.  She was breathing in little shallow
gulps and using both hands to feel around between her legs.  Then she
flopped over and wriggled herself against the bed, sort of humping it. 
Suddenly she stopped, and he glanced at the clock.  25 minutes, perfectly
on track.  To his amusement she started touching again, clearly trying to
bring back the feelings.  He grinned and sent some suppression of pleasure
her way, then turned the temperature back to normal.

   Dear Diary, I am 6 today.  Today I had the funny feels agin.  You are my
b day gift.  I will write in you every time I feel that.  I got stickers
and I will put some in you.

   Dear Diary, Sorry it has been so long since I wrote.  I will be 7
tomorrow and I wonder if there will be the funny feeling in the morning.  I
want to ask my daddy about it but I also do not want to ask him.  Does it
happen on his birthday too?  Update - the feeling happened and it was a
long time.  I rubbed my private spots with my hand and it made it feel like
the feeling would get better maybe but it didn't.  Then I turned over and
put Mr.  Pickles (my teddy bear) between my legs and rubbed my spot against
his hard nose and that felt really good.  My bum was wiggling as I pushed
against Mr.  Pickles and then I worried what if daddy saw me.  But he
didn't.  I want to make the feeling when I want it but I can't.  I tried
again later and I can't make it feel the same no matter how much I touch. I
might have to ask Daddy after all.

   Wilson sat in his office chair, the camera feed from Cecelia's bedroom
queued up and his hand already down his boxers.  The clock hit 6:37 and he
pushed out the sexual energy he had into her sleeping body and got hard the
second he saw her eyes fly open.  Eight years old today, it was hard to
believe how fast she was growing up.  That meant 40 minutes of edging for
her.  He settled back to watch her struggled and experiment and try to
relieve the pressure and tightness he fed her.  As she squirmed and touched
and moved, he notched it up and down.  It was like the child's game where
you direct someone where they need to go with "hotter", "colder", "getting
warm", etc.  When she moved her body in a way that pleased him, he gave her
a little more, as if relief would be soon.  When she did things he didn't
like, he backed it off.  Stroking himself while he did this, he enjoyed the
little scene of sexual frustration play out, but was careful not to cum
himself.  It was part of his deal with himself, he wasn't to cum when she
couldn't, during this special time at least.

   He thought his method of very slowing introducing her to more and more
sexual pleasure (and frustration) over her youth was going to pay off well
later.  He wanted her to have a pretty normal childhood overall, to be able
to just be a kid and not worry about growing up too fast.  At the same
time, he wanted her body to learn early that there was more to life and
more things she could feel.  Slowly and incrementally though, no rush.  For
99% of her young life he wanted her to just be a child and learn and
explore her life at her pace.  He adored her on every level and wished for
her to have the best of life.

   By the time her ninth birthday rolled around, Cece had plans.  She'd
recorded the events of the past three years in her diary and she thought
waking up early that day might give her more information about what
happened to her each birthday.  She thought her first entries in the diary
were silly and kid-like; she felt so much more grown up now.  She carefully
set her alarm for 6am.  Based on her memory and what she'd written down
after last year, it didn't happen till around 6:30 and she wanted to see if
anything happened leading up to it.  It was like staying up to catch Santa;
although she didn't believe in him anymore - that was just her dad.

   At 6am, her alarm buzzed and she quickly turned it off and sat on her
bed.  She took off her nightgown and then lay back down on top of the
covers, her head propped up on the pillow.  She scanned the room, trying to
keep an eye out for anything unusual.  As the minutes ticked by she became
more anxious and restless.  She occasionally poked around her private place
but didn't feel anything different.  She was chewing her lip and looking at
the clock when it hit 6:37 and she suddenly felt a powerful rush of
pleasure between her legs.  Her nipples pebbled up and stood out in hard
points, aching.  She touched between her legs and found herself very wet
and slippery.  It felt fantastic.  Nothing she'd seen could explain this,
but she wasn't caring so much about the why right now.

   Cecelia spread her legs and brought her knees up.  She reached down and
started methodically feeling around to find out what felt best.  She had
the strong sense that if she did the right thing, this feeling would
expand, or change, or bring relief.  Right now she felt jittery and on edge
but oh so good.  There was one spot where it felt like a little swollen
tiny grape, and she rubbed it faster and faster.  It quickly became
uncomfortable it felt so good.  She was not used to things that felt good
also somehow feeling bad; it was confusing to her.  She kept rubbing
though, and got wetter.  Her hips flexed up, seemingly of their own accord.
Her face and chest felt warmer.  She reached up with one hand and ran her
finger over a nipple and almost jumped off the bed at the way that
sensation ran from her breast to her privates and back.  She did it again.

   Wilson watched with great amusement as his daughter prepared herself for
her birthday "gift".  She was catching on to the situation, even if she
seemed clueless as to what exactly was happening or why.  He felt proud of
how smart she was to be investigating things, and stroked himself in
anticipation of the show he was about to witness.  A good ¾ of an hour of
pleasure and frustration awaited them both.

   Cecelia kept rubbing her clit, restlessly tossing and turning on the bed
trying to do something about the sensation.  Wilson chuckled as he stroked
himself, keeping on edge, and watched her little body flop into different
positions.  After she'd been rubbing at herself for a good twenty minutes,
she flipped her body over and started sort of humping her hand.  The way
she looked in this position was intoxicating, so he decided to see if he
could play with the energy and get her to keep that position.  He dialed it
up just a bit and watched her little tight ass push up and down more
rapidly against the bed.  He saw sweat beading on her back from her
exertions.

   "That's my girl," he said to himself softly.  "One day, soon enough,
we'll let you have that relief." He looked at the clock and pulled the
energy away, watching as his baby girl kept thrusting and pumping for a few
minutes before collapsing against the bed in frustration.

   Ten and eleven passed by much the same way.  She experimented, trying
positions, trying techniques, waking up early, doing all she could to
figure out the mystery and getting nothing but frustration in return. 
Today was her twelfth birthday and she'd decided enough was enough.  She
was sick of whatever was happening to her and she planned to boycott it
all. The feelings were getting longer each time, not by much, five minutes
maybe, and she figured she had about an hour if she had to go through this
again.  She planned to just try to lay there through it, let it pass as
always, and then get on with her year.

   6:37 and she felt it start.  She pulled her covers up and tried to go
back to sleep.  The intensity slowly increased, and eventually she flopped
over and pounded her little fists into the bed on either side of her
pillow, in utter frustration.  She started to scream into her pillow (but
not too loud) and tears ran down her face, dampening everything.  It wasn't
long before she was totally unsure how much time had passed.  She was
afraid to lift her head to look at the clock and find out.  What if it had
only been five minutes?  How could she endure this?  She just kept crying
into her pillow and hardly noticed when her hips began to flex up and down
against the bed, seemingly involuntarily.
Wilson was so fascinated by her reaction to this birthday session that
he wasn't even stroking his cock.  He simply sat and played with the energy
levels, trying to see if he could force her hand, so to speak, to her cunt.
She was obviously frustrated and probably almost in pain since she wasn't
touching herself.  He ramped up the energy as high as he could while still
keeping her from orgasm and grinned as he heard her muffled screams in

response.

   The reminder of her time was spent flailing around on her bed, shaking,
fists clenched, tears leaking down her face, as she waited and waited for
the feelings to pass.  By the end, Wilson was convinced he had to
accelerate his plan a bit.  While there was some perverse fun in her
frustration, he didn't want to have his experiments push her towards
rejection of her sexuality inadvertently.  He had to move on to phase two
of his plans.  His precocious and wonderful little girl had pushed his
hand.
   Chapter 2 - eventually...