Tiny
Katy Needs Her Spermies
by Sterling
Chapter 3 of 4
"St.
Luke's hospital," I said to the cabbie.
I
had taken a flight to Atlanta to try to save the life of a girl in a
coma. Meredith had reported that 8-year-old Michelle was in danger of
dying soon, and I couldn't resist this plea for saving a girl's life.
But how I was going to attempt this was truly bizarre. I was going to
steal a moment alone with a comatose girl as she lay in her hospital
room -- and fuck her.
Before paying the cabbie I put my mirror
sunglasses on, and as a further disguise tried to walk with a limp,
pretending my right foot was sore.
In room 437 Michelle's mother
Mary leaped up as soon as I arrived. She whispered that based on her
observations of the hospital routines, we needed to wait 45 minutes,
then I'd be almost certain to have an hour alone with Michelle without
some cheerful nurse barging in. I nodded, but before I headed out I
also took a moment to take a look at Michelle, in bed, looking very...
comatose. Eight years old. A couple weeks before she'd been in a coma
for 36 hours. This one had lasted 3 days already, and the doctors were
not at all sure she'd make it. Between comas she'd had her bad episodes
at least twice a day, and even the rest of the time felt awful enough
that she'd rarely gotten out of bed.
As I left the room Mary
handed me an envelope, containing $1600 in twenties, enough to cover my
expenses for the trip -- mostly the business class flight booked the
day before. I got a snack while waiting for the 45 minutes to pass.
When I returned, Mary showed me a metal adjustable prop that I could
use against the door from the inside to seriously delay any unexpected
entry. Then she herself left, not wanting to watch her comatose
daughter getting raped -- however pure the motives. She also left a
tablet computer on Michelle's chest. It played video footage of a
younger Michelle: topless in the bath, playing in the sprinkler in her
bathing suit, and playing in a sequence where she was in a dress but
her panties showed a number of times. It had seemed to us like a
reasonable measure to help me react to Michelle like a real child, and
to help Mary think of me thinking of her that way too.
With the
lock in place, I stripped and pushed Michelle's johnny up to reveal her
privates, then spread her legs apart. I set the video loop going on the
laptop and mounted. The girl was out cold, but my body apparently
recognized a girl's pussy parts and found that enough to produce a hard
erection.
Her lubrication wasn't great, so I whipped out a
vibrator Mary had also provided and applied it to Michelle's privates.
After 30 seconds I tested her vaginal opening and found the vibrator
had done its job well.
I thrust into the girl's pussy and began
a fast fuck at once. No point in being gentle with this one. The
important thing was to convince her body it was being fucked, and I
judged it might in its comatose state take some extra effort for the
message to get through. I grappled her hips roughly for a while, then
put my arms around her back and squeezed hard, and said none too softly
in her ear, "Hey, Michelle, I'm fucking you. Got that? I've stuffed my
cock up your cunt, and I'm going to blow my load! Get that?" I raised
my head to see the video of conscious Michelle squatting on the floor,
the camera angle showing right up between her thighs to white panties.
The video showed that she was potentially a lively girl. Could I help
her achieve that potential once more?
I grunted as I picked up
the pace, driving as deep as I could into her 8-year-old snatch, her
vagina giving me a hot, slick welcome despite the comatose condition of
the girl. I put my full weight on her and put my lips right at her ear
so the sounds of my building excitement would be loud and clear. "Oh,
fuck, fuck, fuck!" I moaned as I ejaculated, my pulses of hot seed
filling the girl. When I pulled out I began getting dressed quickly,
even as I felt a bit faint. If Michelle woke up, we didn't want the
first thing she saw to be a sweating naked man. Mary would see me leave
and go right in to clean her daughter up.
I took a cab to my
hotel, checked in, then logged in periodically to see what news there
was from Mary. That evening she wrote to say that while Michelle hadn't
come out of the coma, the doctors were very encouraged by an
improvement in her condition -- they of course had no idea of the
cause. Could I try again the next afternoon?
Michelle did seem
more lively the next day, with better color, and I used much the same
method as the day before. Just after my final shot left my cock, I felt
her stirring beneath me. I quickly got up off of her and staggered
around, pulling my briefs and pants on. She was awake and looking at
me, but very groggy, so it wasn't clear how much she'd remember.
Mary
reported via the web that her daughter had had a miraculous recovery.
That was the most important thing. The warm fuzzy feeling I got faded
when I found my evening flight had been canceled. I ended up having to
take Monday as a vacation day from work.
My
trip to Atlanta to save Michelle had consequences. Michelle started
having attacks again two weeks later. I could have just said I had
intervened once in a dire emergency and she was on her own, but I felt
a bond with Michelle. The idea of her going through those horrible
attacks when I could prevent them moved me. So I ended up agreeing to
take her on as a regular partner.
The first time I treated
Michelle in a conscious condition, she didn't fight or struggle, but
despite Katy's best advice, she cried and trembled the whole time I was
inside her. She thanked me later, but the crying was disheartening.
Mary's solution was to send Meredith a hefty dose of the anti-anxiety
medicine lorazepam to give her after retrieving her at Newark airport;
she flew from Atlanta to New York as an unaccompanied minor. She was
always pretty zoned out during the act and my least favorite partner.
But was it an unpleasant job to treat her? Not at all. Small girl,
hairless pussy lips and hot cunt served on a bed of sound moral
justification were enough to make it an appealing dish.
With
five girls to service a couple times a month, I was having intercourse
with a young girl every two or three days on average. I was also
holding down a full-time (if boring) job and did have family and
friends to keep up with.
It was about the most I thought I could
handle. I told Meredith not to mention any more cases to me. Yes, girls
might die, but girls all over the world died every day. I was only one
man, and could only do one man's work. Meredith understood and did as I
asked.
George rang my doorbell at 10 on a Saturday morning.
"Hello, my name is George Johnson, I'm your new neighbor. You must be
Jim White?"
"Yes, that's me," I said.
"There's a neighborhood project I wanted to talk with you about. Can I
come in?"
Warily I invited him in. We sat in the living room.
"I
want to show you a picture." He handed me an 8 x 10 glossy of a pretty
little girl. I couldn't help smiling. My activities at Meredith's house
were conducted under a totally separate identity, so I was pretty
confident that this was a coincidence.
"It's my daughter. She has the syndrome. SLGS. The one with the attacks
and all."
My heart was pounding, but I said, "I don't know what you're talking
about. I thought this was about a neighborhood initiative."
"I
hope you won't be angry with me, but when Wendy reported that you
weren't going to help out any more girls, I took the initiative. You've
never had kids, so maybe you don't understand what a parent will do. I
hired a private investigator. They found Meredith's house, and they
followed you home. I just want to say that I don't judge you at all --
I think you're a world-class hero!"
I tried to stay calm. "You've invaded my privacy in a very serious way,
and talked your way into my house on false pretenses."
"I
know, I feel bad about that." As he answered, he took out more glossy
pictures of his daughter. One would show her looking charming, the next
would show her looking haunted and haggard. "But like I said, I'll do
just about anything for my girl. She's got the attacks really bad now.
She has maybe two good days a week. The rest of the time she's
miserable -- totally miserable. Vomiting, diarrhea, acting like a rag
doll. And some of them go into comas, as you know."
"Why don't you take care of this yourself?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do with her what you want me to do."
"Oh...
I have. It took me a long time and a lot of sleepless nights to get to
that point, but I did try. Like I said, a parent will do anything. It
didn't work. I sure hope it doesn't screw her up for life."
I
kept looking at the pictures and sighed. Such a nice girl -- such a
miserable girl. Such potential, all at risk. "Let me think about it."
"Well, I hope you won't think too long."
"Like I said, let me think about it." I showed him to the door.
"Could
I have an answer tomorrow at this time? I'll happily bring my little
girl with me so you could enjoy her company -- oops, I mean treat her
-- right away."
"Don't bring your girl, whatever you do!"
"OK, tomorrow."
I
thought of it from every angle and didn't get much sleep. I was furious
with George for invading my privacy -- but he was just trying to save
his daughter.
George was nothing if not punctual. He rang the bell the next day at
9:59.
I opened the door and held up my hands. "Sorry, I can't do it. If I say
yes to you, then who knows how many more will come?"
George
beckoned and his daughter emerged from behind the door. "Here she is,
Jim." She jumped up into his arms. "Liz, this is Jason. You want to say
hi to Jason?" She gave a big smile. Curly brown hair, big brown eyes,
just like in the pictures. So much more vibrant than a picture.
"I told you not to bring her!" I managed to say through clenched teeth.
"Are
you going to slam the door on her? She needs you." I think it was on
purpose that as he held her, her dress had bunched up to her side and
her panties were visible. "Tell him, Liz, now's the time to tell him."
"Could you please do that thing to me -- you know, down there -- so I
don't get sick any more? Please? I'd really like you to!"
George said, "Right now would be just fine."
It was to save her, and it wasn't her fault if her father had been
devious. There she was, alluring and willing.
"Oh, all right!" I said. "You wait in the car. Come here, Liz."
George let her slide down. "I'll see you in a little bit, honey. Be a
good girl."
I
motioned Liz inside, slammed the door and marched to the bedroom,
dragging Liz by the hand. She stumbled as she tried to keep up.
"Strip. Lie on the bed." Angrily I took my clothes off.
Who
would believe it, I wondered. A pedophile had men showing up on his
doorstep, begging and pleading him to take their little darlings into
the bedroom and fuck them. And the problem was that there might be too
many of them. I had to fuck little Liz, but I didn't have to be nice
about it.
When I looked back she had done exactly what I asked.
She was lying on the bed, completely naked, legs spread wide. She was
also fighting back tears.
My anger faded at once. "Oh, shit, I
know it's not your fault. I'll be nice to you. Or at least as nice as I
can given what I've got to do to you."
I stroked her hair and
kissed her cheek, and she seemed relieved. But that let my anger surge
again. I greedily worked my hands all over her arms and legs and front,
stopping to squeeze her nipples, one with each hand. My hand found its
way between her legs, feeling her feminine part and rubbing gently. I
nibbled her ear and she giggled.
I had an idea. "Turn over on
your tummy, OK? ... Stick your butt up in the air..." I fondled her
pussy lips from behind. If I was the kind of guy who liked anal, I
might have shoved it up her ass. But I'm a pussy-only fellow. "OK, now
I'm going in from this side," I said, lodged my cock and pressed.
"Ooooo!" she said, but didn't show distress.
I
didn't care if she did cry at this point. I grappled her hips and
pushed, but the angle wasn't quite right. Without disengaging I turned
her, stood up right by the edge of the bed and lifted her by the hips
so I was holding the weight of her lower parts in my hands -- something
that would have been near impossible with a grown woman. I held her
right in front of my thrusting pelvis, while she dangled down and kept
herself more or less horizontal with her hands on the bed.
In
short order I had her stuffed up the pussy in this weird doggy style. I
then started a fast, deep fuck. I grunted and growled. "Unnh, unnh,
unnh, unnh!" As my climax approach I slowed down, then pressed myself
deeper than seemed possible as my body shot a big load of sperm into
the far end of her girl hole. Four shots did it, and I then made some
more deep strokes to stir the goop all around.
My lust
satisfied, my anger surged again at being spied on and manipulated. As
my cock slid out, I tossed her hindquarters to the right so she landed
on her right side and bounced on the mattress.
She looked at me questioningly.
"It
worked!" she said. "I feel fantastic! Ooo, ooo! Wait til I tell daddy!"
I couldn't help smiling at her utter joy. "It was different when he did
it..."
"Stand up," I said on a sudden whim. She stood on the bed. "Face me."
There
were her girly lips. I worked the middle finger of my right hand
straight up into her sopping pussy. Yeah, that was the basic idea. Find
a hole in a little girl and shove something long and hard way up into
it. I kept trying to press my finger in deeper, but the effort just
lifted her off the bed, balanced precariously on my palm kind of like a
bicycle seat, with my middle finger deep up her cunt.
Suddenly I withdrew, and she landed on the mattress and stumbled a bit.
"All right," I grumbled. "Get dressed and go see your daddy."
At the door, she turned and said, "Thank you so much for helping me
with your penis," as polite as anything.
"Go!" I said, trying not to smile.
Liz was a very happy little camper -- for about 7 days. But I couldn't
turn down her request for a repeat. I never can.
George swore he wouldn't tell another soul, but others found out
somehow. I managed to turn a couple men away.
Now
a man who had introduced himself as Dave was standing on my doorstep.
It had been a tough conversation, but now it took a different turn.
He said, "I know you're in a tough spot. I know you've got lots of
girls. But my
girl needs attention and needs it right now. She's not even 4 years
old."
"So because you're here I'm supposed to make some other girl suffer so
your girl can feel better?" We'd been over this before.
He
sighed. "Let me put it to you this way. What you're doing is, uh, not
exactly legal. There's lots and lots of proof. There's some police who
might be very interested to know about this. Now, I wouldn't dream of
telling them, not if I was in my right mind, but ... I just can't think
straight when my daughter is so miserable."
"You're threatening me."
"I wouldn't put it that way."
"I would. Now go away."
"I don't know, Jim, I'm awfully frantic. I hope I don't do anything
I'll regret later, but you never know."
I gave him a long, hard look. "OK, bring her in."
Less than a minute later he came in clutching a rag doll of a girl. She
smelled faintly of both vomit and diarrhea.
"Oh, Christ," I said. "Let's take her to the bathroom."
"The bathroom?"
"Yeah, strip her and put her on her knees, facing the tub."
"Huh?"
"You heard me! You want me to cure your daughter or not?!"
"OK,
OK," he said. While I counted to 10 and stripped, I heard him talking
to her in the bathroom. "I know you feel awful, honey. This is to make
you better. It's gonna be weird, yeah. Just put your knees like that,
right."
"Out!" I said.
He left, I shut the door and took off my briefs.
"Daddy?"
"He's right outside."
"I want daddy." She started to get up.
"No!" I said, nudging her back into position. "Just a minute, you can
have him."
She
started to cry. Yeah, the girl is smelly, wriggling, and crying. But I
saw a tiny rear end in front of me with some cute little girl lips. And
that sight gives rise in me to a very strong primal urge. My cock
responded, and the urge was to jam it into her. She was a tighter fit
than most, but the urge was to press with however much force was needed.
"Ouch!"
I
panted and managed to jam myself in more and more until I was in to the
hilt. I then began a series of fast, hard thrusts, and it wasn't going
to take long. Just as I was making my final deep thrusts, she gagged
and threw up into the tub, though not much came out. But the retching
also made her pussy squeeze me especially tight as I unloaded into the
little thing. Weird goopy stuff oozing out the front, weird goopy stuff
oozing in the back.
I stood up, caught my breath, and put my briefs back on.
"What happened? I don't feel sick any more!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." I muttered, opening the door.
"So take your little sperm-filled bitch home and clean all the openings,
OK?"
A murderous look passed briefly over his face, but he said, "OK, I
will. Thank you."
And they were gone.
I sent Meredith a long and angry email about being threatened, which I
invited her to post in the support group.
A long and heated discussion followed, she reported.
As I pulled into my driveway at 6:30, I thought the black car parked
across the street was awfully fancy.
The man who got out was tall, silver-haired, and dressed in a suit. He
quickly crossed the street.
"Hello, Jim. You must be awfully sick of people showing up at your
house."
"Yeah," I said wearily.
"I think you'll be glad once we've talked."
"And why's that?"
"I'm not here to give you more work, I'm hear to make you feel easier
about the work you have. Less stress. And less fear."
"OK, come on in."
We sat in the living room.
"Who are you?"
"That's
one thing I can't tell you, actually. Let's just say that one of the
fathers of the girls you treat is well-connected. He doesn't like the
idea of anyone threatening you or turning you in. His connections
include the agencies that count. FBI, state police, maybe others, maybe
some you've never heard of. You don't have to worry about anyone
turning you in any more. In fact, I think it's anyone who tried to turn
you in who should be nervous."
This guy sounded like he could just be a wacko with delusions of power.
"Uh, no offense, but how do I know you're for real?"
"We
figured you were a smart fellow and might ask that. Here's a sheet of
paper. It's got the FBI tip line number and the state police number.
You can verify them easily enough. And if you call them up and give
these phrases, you should get these others in reply. Only good for the
next 24 hours or so."
(Later, with a sinking feeling I was about
to be made a fool, I called the FBI number and said, "Code Picnic
3022". "Ah yes, a code. Just one moment... 'Medical emergency justifies
funny business.'" It matched exactly what was on the sheet.)
"Of
course, if you mention this to people, law enforcement will just say
you're crazy. If someone reports you, the police will appear
sympathetic. They could never admit that they're not going to
investigate child rape, but you'll be fine."
"Um, thank you -- I think."
"You're welcome."
"Now, there's another piece to this."
Uh-oh.
He
probably read my expression. "Totally separate -- the protection is
yours, no matter what you do. This is just my advice. Doing this is
something you really enjoy, right?"
"How would you know?"
He
smiled and said, "OK, well, you can think about that. But IF this is
something you really enjoy, there's a much bigger opportunity here. And
with the protection, you might was to consider it seriously."
"I do have a job."
"True. But do you love your job?"
I hesitated, and he didn't wait for an answer. I hated my job -- though
it was important my employer not know that.
"I think parents might be willing to compensate you. For saving their
daughters' lives."
"I'm not doing this for the money."
"True. It's a rather intimate, personal matter. Breaking a taboo for
the higher good."
His insights were right on target.
He
continued, "But some of the happiest people around get paid well to do
what they love. Think entrepreneurs, scientists, some businessmen.
Musicians, artists, writers..."
I wasn't sure what to think, and said nothing.
"Think about it. And here's a number to call if you want to discuss
setting this up in a more formal structure."
A
website, an application process, and assistants to look over the
applications. A fee structure, income and asset verification, and
financial aid. Other assistants -- lovely young women -- to prepare the
girls and shepherd them in and out. Penthouse suites in hotels. An
expensive but effective treatment so I could neither give nor get any
STIs.
Little girls appeared before me, fresh and clean, in
pretty dresses. Some were excited, some were nervous, some were morose.
But they all had hairless little girl lips up under the dresses, inside
their panties. And inside each pair of lips was an opening to a tight
little tube, hot and wet and ready. I wanted to mount every girl, find
the lips, position my cock tip in the opening, and drive into the hot,
wet tube. I wanted to fuck in and out vigorously, and I wanted to
ejaculate way up inside. I wanted to see the little girl feel happy.
When
I was done with one girl, I wanted the next one. Of course a cock needs
some down time. No one was particularly surprised to find that the
presence of the next girl hastened my arousal, but it still might be a
couple hours before I was ready again. Sometimes the limitation wasn't
the erection but the ability to ejaculate.
What wasn't so
obvious was that If I took girls one at a time, my performance was at a
certain level, but if I took them together, I could satisfy the girls
quicker. Four girls, one after the other, might mean an hour between
ejaculations. Four girls all at once, playing around and watching the
others get it might mean a half hour between ejaculations. It was a big
difference.
Of course lots of parents were disgusted by this
whole idea, and insisted on private sessions at the very least. But
there was a waiting list, and market forces came into play -- it was
cheaper for a girl to be part of a group of 8. Sometimes those were the
only spots available.
The whole business set-up was for most of
the girls. But I still saw Tracy and Katy at Meredith's house. Maybe
because they were my first two, but also because Tracy was shy and we
had our fun tradition, and Katy -- well Katy was Katy. Katy didn't
belong in a hotel suite with piles of other girls.
"Hey, it's stiff again!" said one of the three girls right around me.
The other five had been involved in reading or separate play, but now I
had eight pairs of eyes on me.
"Oh, goody, Jason! ... You wanna treat me now? ... Look down the front
of my panties! ..."
Right
next to me, 6-year-old Jenny said, "You can replace that finger with
your penis! ..." She nuzzled her face against my ear and kissed my
cheek tenderly.
I thought that was a great idea. My fucking
finger went out, the girl lay back and spread her legs, and I forced my
cock into her little pussy. I fucked in and out with enthusiasm. She
was mine and I could sperm her little cunt whenever I could manage it.
But getting an erection was the comparatively easy part -- I'd been
limp all of 10 minutes. What required more effort was working up to
another ejaculation. One girl was not going to do it, so I looked
around.
Sometimes I was in the mood for the ones who weren't
right around me asking for it. Fran was on the other side of the room
reading to Laura. At 8, Fran was one of my oldest girls. She had long
brown hair, big brown eyes, and a regal nose. I'd already made Fran
happy an hour before, but that didn't stop me from wanting to fuck her
again. Four-year-old Laura was a blue-eyed cutie with hair so blond it
was almost white. I pulled out of Jenny and walked across the room.
Fran and Laura looked up at my approach. "On your back," I ordered
Fran. "Laura, sit up above her head."
The girls' eyes were bright as they followed instructions.
"Aim
me," I said to Fran with a kiss as I mounted her. Leaning over her, I
pulled up Laura's dress to reveal her luscious girl parts. With my
hands I caressed her inner thighs and labia, then opened them up and
dove in with my tongue, licking, probing, inhaling deeply. Down below,
Fran had done her job. My strong thrust penetrated her, and I was
surrounded by slick heat. In and out I went, while I rested most of my
weight on her. Her head was turned to the side, and my neck rested
against her ear, but up above I was relishing the sights, smell, and
especially touch of young Laura. She got wetter as my tongue alternated
between licking her little clitoris and probing into her sexual
opening. It all felt great. It wasn't enough to make me come, but it
was spice and excitement to get me ready.
"Thanks, Fran," I said, dismounting. "But I just have to get into
Laura."
The little girl smiled as I mounted her, and said, "Ooo! You gonna do
happy pee in me?"
"I doubt it -- not yet," said Fran.
I
lodged my penis tip where my tongue had been and pressed it in. Her
luscious tissues yielded to the intrusion but held me firmly.
Fran
knelt on the bed beside us, running her hand over my thrusting butt,
then gently stroking my balls. In my ear she whispered, "You're so
strong and such a total man. Laura sure likes getting screwed like
that!"
That was hot talk. I might have been able to wet Laura's innards if I
worked at it, but there was another priority.
Pulling
out, I said, "Sorry, my lovely wonderful little girls, but I've got to
do a girl in the little room. It's her first time. But I'll be back
soon."
"But... When's it going to be my turn?" whined a 5-year-old.
"Shhh!" the others said. Jenny explained, "You'll just have to wait,
like everyone else. And have fun waiting."
I
knocked on the door of the small private room and went in -- stark
naked, with my erection standing out in front of me. The monitor
suspended from the ceiling and angled discreetly for my view said her
name was Naomi. She was sitting on the bed, a pretty little 4-year-old
of East Asian stock. She gave a nervous smile, glancing at my stiff
adult cock.
"Hi there, Naomi," I said. "Would you like to get treated?"
She
nodded though she didn't meet my gaze. There was a test they had
invented that could tell just where a girl was in the baseline "feeling
yucky" dimension. Naomi must have had a couple attacks already, or they
wouldn't have diagnosed the condition. But like all the others, we
wanted to get her at a point where she wasn't feeling too terrible, but
bad enough that she would find my attentions made her feel really good.
"You
certainly are a pretty girl. Let me touch you." I stroked her straight
black hair with one hand while with the other I caressed her hand. But
that was only for a second, as there was so much else to touch.
She
was wearing a loose-fitting dress -- hers was green. With one hand I
caressed her back and with the other her front -- for a few seconds.
Then I was sliding my left hand between her legs up under her dress.
She spread her legs enough that I could reach her crotch and the
hairless pussy slit.
I might have been able to come in Laura,
but there was something especially exciting about a girl I'd never done
it with before. I wasn't going to have any trouble ejaculating in this
little virgin.
"Oh, Naomi, I really want to get it into you," I
said. It wasn't exactly sweet and subtle, but I didn't have all day to
make her feel special. Getting stuffed up the cunt with a big cock was
going to be a strange experience that to a large part of her would seem
yucky. I lay her down on the bed and pushed the green dress up out of
the way. Then I mounted and aimed. "Here goes, sweety," I said softly
as I nudged myself between her lips. I pressed, and her vagina, like
all the others, gave way before my intrusion. Her eyes opened wide in
surprise but she didn't seem upset. She was hot, tight and slick, and I
quickly worked my way in until she'd taken my whole cock. The surest
way to make sure her body registered was to be kind of crude. "I'm
fucking your cunt, Naomi," I said in a growl. "Hope you like it." I lay
down on her so she took most of my weight and wrapped my hands around
behind her back. "I'm gonna shoot my sperm up into you real soon now...
Unnh, unnh, unnnh, Oh Naomi, you're great! Unnh, unnh, unnnh, unnnh,
Aaaahhhhhh!"
Having come just a half hour before, I only shot a
little bit of stuff, but it felt just as fantastic to me, and a little
bit was enough for any girl. When I peeled myself up off of her and let
my cock slide out, she was smiling.
"It's really true!" she
said. "When you get all pokey and naughty down there, it makes it all
better!" She reached up to kiss me on the cheek.
"Glad to help," I said, catching my breath. "I'll see you in a few
weeks."
She nodded and I slipped back through the door to the common room where
my octet of little beauties awaited.
"So did you do it to her? Did she take it OK or did she freak out?"
"She was just fine, though a little nervous at first."
"And was she surprised to get happy?"
"Yeah, pretty surprised. It's always special for me seeing a girl react
that way when it's her first time."
The eight girls looked at me expectantly.
"I'm gonna lie down and rest for a few minutes, but you all can show me
more girliness."
"Can I lick it?" asked Laura. "I've never licked before."
"OK,"
I said, smiling at her. I lay back and closed my eyes, and a warm,
eager tongue licked off the sexual juices left over from my incontinent
excursion into little Naomi.
I felt a hand caressing my right
hand off to the side, then pressing it firmly against a little pussy.
Glancing up I saw that it was 5-year-old Becky who was making me very
aware of her girliness. She pressed my hand in a rhythmic motion
against her vulva.
"Get naked and go snuggle up to him," I heard
Fran whisper. Five-year-old Mary followed her instructions and tossed
off her T-shirt and panties as she approached my left side. She kissed
my cheek as her reddish curls tickled my face, then she snuggled
against my side. She lifted her left leg over Laura's head and draped
it on my stomach. After a few seconds, I started feeling the slightest
hints of undulations below, but within a minute I could unmistakably
feel her pressing her soft female parts against my hip, deliberately,
over and over, rhythmically.
Laura's mouth was replaced by
another, and then another. Becky separated my middle finger from the
others and guided it up into her pussy, in and out.
I relaxed, thinking sweet and sexy thoughts. I dozed off.
What
woke me was the force and speed Becky used to press my finger into her
vagina while my knuckles pressed against soft tissues on the outside.
She gasped and moaned before releasing my hand.
I yawned. "When
you catch your breath, come put that right in front of my face, OK?" I
said, looking at the satisfied girl with the goofy grin.
She
nodded and didn't delay at all, straddling my face with her juicy,
post-orgasmic feminine stuff. It smelled great, and I licked.
"Don't go away," I said after I'd licked my fill, "Lie just above my
head but keep your legs wide apart."
My
cock was up and ready to go. The one I wanted was Mary, who had paused
in her undulations. I lifted her small form quickly until she was lying
on top of me, eyes wide with anticipation. With a hand wrapping each of
her thighs, I pulled her down until my cock was poking between her
legs. By moving her pussy around, my cock soon found the indentation,
pressed and was rewarded with an engulfing hug from her wet vagina. I
fucked up into the little one hard and fast as she looked at me with
delighted wonder. I probably could have come, but the odor of Becky's
snatch above my head intrigued me more. I smiled at Mary and
disengaged. Her frown of disappointment was brief.
I scrambled
up and turned to attend to Becky. She was not just sitting with legs
spread wide and holding her pussy open, she was also rubbing her little
clit with the other hand.
"Mmmm!" I said in a low voice, and I
mounted. Her expression of adoring expectancy was priceless. Now her
pussy got the cock it had been dreaming of. I fucked her hard and fast.
In less than a minute her increasingly urgent whimpers became a loud
moan, starting plaintive but tapering off to relaxed. Time for her
other reward. I pounded her pussy for all I was worth.
Fran
said, "See how his balls are pulled up tight, Laura? That's a good sign
he's about to sprinkle pee out of his magic wand." She giggled at her
metaphor.
I liked it too, and in ecstasy my cock twitched and inseminated young
Becky.
She
felt it. "Oh, man!" she said. "That was great!" Yeah, two orgasms and a
dose of intravaginal medicine was a pretty great outcome for her.
"Snack time!" I panted. A minute after alerting my staff with a buzzer,
a young woman brought in a snack cart.
I
drank a bunch of juice and had a few dark chocolates. Listening to the
girls chatter as they consumed their pretzels, chips, cupcakes,
cookies, milk, and juice was another way of appreciating the young
femininity all around me.
Down below my balls churned out more
sperm and the ducts and glands worked full tilt to produce enough of
the happy girl juice for deposit deep in the next vagina. The delivery
vehicle was resting too, but soon enough it would swell with blood
again and become an unstoppable force for deep penetration of the
tightest little girl tunnel.
"What
am I doing here? I'm a boy and you're all girls with cooties!" said a
6-year-old with shortish brown hair, dressed in an 'O'Neal' basketball
jersey and long baggy boy shorts.
A number of the girls looked around, confused. A couple had knowing
smiles.
"I don't think so," said Becky, hands on hips.
"Course I'm a boy!" he said.
"I don't believe you! You have to prove it!"
"Prove it how?"
"Pull down your pants and show us your penis."
"No, I don't have to do that! Not for you dumb old girls!"
"Yes, you do!"
"Don't!"
Becky
and another girl tackled him, and as he flailed around they managed to
get the shorts down to show his boy briefs. Defeated, he lay still in
the grasp of the other girl.
"Now the truth," said Becky, grabbing the briefs and tugging slowly.
But there was no penis, just a lovely little girl slit.
"She's a girl!" spat Becky. Turning to me, she said harshly, "Fuck her!"
I
needed no further encouragement. Baggy boy shorts and fly-equipped boy
briefs were barely down to the knees, but I saw a girl and I mounted.
The girly lips were no false promise either. With insistent pressure,
my excited cock found a 100% genuine, full-featured vagina and occupied
it completely.
"No, I'm a boy! I'm a boy!" pleaded the imposter with furrowed brow.
I
reached under the basketball shirt and pinched the unisex nipples hard.
As I did, I gave a last flurry of thrusts and shot my semen way up high
in her vagina.
The face of the 'boy' relaxed in ecstasy.
"You
liar!" said Becky. "You're a girl, just as girly as can be, with a
pussy and SLGS like the rest of us have, because you just got treated
and happy."
"I'm sorry I fibbed," said the girl, suddenly smiling, bashful and
entirely feminine.
And
for some reason I was moved to lie down on her and kiss her tenderly
for quite a few minutes, while down below my cock softened and slid out.
And that was my introduction to Carla.
My
assistants were always thinking of new ideas to keep this whole
business exciting and novel -- a lot of the ideas originated with the
girls themselves.
As
I entered the small room, the monitor had this message: "This is Erica,
age 7. She's pretty sick and not at all cooperative. Another man
failed, so they're counting on you. Her parents suggested this
arrangement to maximize the chances of success."
There on the
bed was a girl, spread-eagled, with each hand and foot tied to a corner
of the bed. She looked simultaneously very sick and very defiant. Poor
kid -- she really needed to be raped. All the girls' bodies had to know
they'd been fucked, but some needed an especially harsh reminder.
"You asshole!" she croaked.
"Oh, shut up," I murmured, pulling up into mounting position. My cock
was stiff and hard and ready to violate and degrade.
"No, you shut up! And get away from me! You big fat pig -- they ought
to throw you in jail!"
She writhed, but the restraints limited what she could do.
I planted a hand where stomach gave way to pubic bone and held her
immobile. With the other hand I spread her lips and aimed.
"No!" she shouted and writhed harder than ever, but she was trapped.
"Aahhh!"
I said with exaggerated satisfaction as my penis dug in. I pulled out a
bit, then forced it in a half-inch farther, back and forth until I was
up to the hilt.
"You're an animal! Disgusting! You get that thing out of me right now!"
"Oh, no, honey. I'm going to fuck you all the way, over and over, and
then shoot you full of sperm."
"No! You pile of shit. I hope they cut your balls off! Stop it!"
The invective went on as I pounded in and out of her.
"You're
a little bitch who deserves to get fucked. The more bad things you say,
the better I like it and the more thoroughly I'm going to fuck your
nasty cunt."
She hesitated a moment and swore at me some more, but before long it
tailed off.
"What
a pathetic little bitch you are," I sneered. "I'm going to stuff my
cock way up deep in your foul ditch and pee in you. Except it's dirtier
than pee -- sticky and weird like pus!"
That seemed to get to her just a bit, and she swallowed, but soon went
right back to it. "You're a disgusting pervert!"
"Oh, shut up!" I said. "I'm about to spew my jiz."
"No! No, please! Oh, fuck you!"
"No, fuck you."
"Fuck you!"
"No, you baby."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"That's the spirit, girl."
"Oh! You're horrible!"
"You're in luck, bitch. Five ... four ... three ..."
"Nooooo!"
"Two ... one ... Arrrrggggghhhhh!"
I roared as my twitches began and I spat my male stuff into her.
"No... no... no," she said three times, each one softer than the last.
"You're awful, you're... oh, oh ..."
"Feel better?" I said when I'd caught my breath.
It was obvious from her face. "That doesn't change anything."
"Oh, great," I said. "Are you going to thank me?"
She shook her head.
"Well, whatever..." I pulled out, and reached down to squeegee the slop
off my cock and into my hand.
I
had a whim, and said, "Since you won't thank me, I'll paint your face
with disgusting boy slop." I raised my hand to her face. I painted some
on her right cheek. She shook her head so I held it still with my other
hand.
I painted some on her left cheek, a dab on the tip of her nose, and
some on her upper lip, more under her chin.
"Magic boy slop," she murmured.
"Goodbye, sweety pie," I said.
She stuck her tongue out at me, eyes closed, and almost kept all traces
of a smile off her face.
I
brush a mane of blond hair, over and over again. I braid it, then undo
the braid and try again. I tie ribbons, and I learn the tricks of hair
holders and barrettes.
I wonder at the fabric of skirts and
dresses, blouses, vests, skirt shorts, capris, pajamas, bikinis,
one-piece suits, even socks and shoes. I dress the girls in these
things, then undress them again, slowly. I appreciate the curves of the
girls highlighted by some clothing, appreciate how some girly shapes
are hidden by other types, then revealed again as the article comes off
once more.
Panties. Lots and lots of panties. On and off, over
and over. Clean and not quite so clean. Girls line up and I remove
panties from each one, make a pile, then lie back and put the pile over
my face, breathing the blend of a dozen girly crotches.
I watch
the girls play with dolls and play dress up. I watch them negotiate
about who is going to pretend what. I listen to big ones reading to
little ones. I listen to little ones reading haltingly, big ones
helping them when they come to a hard word.
I give baths.
Washing hair, running warm water over every part, washcloths on faces
that scrunch up in anticipation. And always down below, the girly lips,
over and over.
At any time I might interrupt appreciation of
these innocent displays of girliness with raw sex. Pull down the bikini
bottom, push the girl back onto a bed, and copulate. Stop hair brushing
in mid-stroke, bend the girl over the bed, and penetrate doggy style.
Lift the girl out of the tub, perch her on the edge with legs spread,
and stick my boy prong up into heaven.
What could possibly be
more girly than girlies peeing? I sit on the floor in front of the
toilet, and have a little girl come squat in my lap and impale herself
on my eager erection. I lift her bottom an inch, then push it back down
again, vagina moving with the girl, to my cock's delight. But that is
just the background. Girls mount the toilet, one by one, legs wide
apart. I watch intently as the urine appears as if by magic. Sometimes
a flood, often a trickle. I watch just exactly how they wipe
themselves. I learn and imitate.
I watch them play doctor,
peering at each other's little parts from inches away, opening lips,
inserting fingers, commenting on how they are just a little different
from each other.
I watch them masturbate. For many it's a hand
down the front of her panties, a dreamy expression on her face. For
some it's face down, hips tensing and relaxing over and over, sliding
sensitive girly pleasure parts against the stuffed animal or wadded
item of clothing or their own fist. For some it's on their back with
legs spread wide, middle finger poking in and out, other hand rubbing
little clit. Always a sensual rhythmic motion, over and over.
Some
pair up, hand down the front of each other's panties. Some play at
being me, lying face down on another girl, loins against loins,
thrusting over and over again, often ending with a pretend orgasm, the
other girl feigning her joy at receiving a treatment. After that there
are often reproachful or hopeful glances in my direction: Can you do it
to me soon, please? Why do I have to wait so long?
But they
never have to wait too long. Eight girls, four hours. Every one of them
will get a little splat of sperm lovingly delivered to the deepest
recesses of her little cunt.
I'm lying on a bed, naked, penis limp and small. On a whim, I turn on
my side and start sucking my thumb.
"I gotta go peepee," I say.
"Oh!"
says a big girl, sensing the emerging role play. "Well, come use the
potty then. We don't want any accidents." She helps me up with one hand
and leads me to the toilet, while I'm still sucking my thumb. When I'm
standing in front of the toilet, she aims. "OK, let it go now, so the
peepee comes out."
I let go, and a stream thunders into the toilet below.
"You don't need to wipe, do you," she says. "You lucky boys. I just
shake it like this..."
She
leads me back to the bed. Other girls notice the play. "Here, have a
little candy," says one. I remove my thumb and open wide, and she pops
three M&Ms into my mouth.
"Mmmm! More!" I say.
She pops in a few more.
"More! More!"
The big girl interrupts. "Now, you can have more, but you have to do
your chores."
"What chores?" I ask, disappointment heavy.
"You have to give a present to one of us girls."
"What?"
She wraps her fingers around my penis gently and rubs. It quickly gets
long and hard. "Does that feel OK?"
I smile. "Yeah, what now?"
A 5-year-old gets the idea and lies back, legs spread wide, ready for
the taking.
"Come over here, and lie down on top of her."
I wrinkle my nose. "Girls have cooties between their legs."
"You'll like it, you'll see."
I lie on the girl and stick my tongue out at her. She manages not to
smile and sticks her tongue out at me too.
Down
below, the big girl is arranging things so I'm near the girl's vagina.
She takes my penis once more and strokes back and forth with her
fingers. Then she stops her hand motion. "Now you make it move like
that."
I look puzzled, but then discover a fucking motion and do it to her
hand.
"OK, now move up a little..." Her hand is right against the little
girl's pussy. "Now go in farther..."
I poke my penis through her fingers and run into something warm and wet.
"Even farther..." Instead of four fingers wrapped around my cock, she's
down to a single finger making an O shape.
"Mmmm!"
I say, as my penis goes through her fingers into the little girl below,
and she is warm and wet and feels just right. I pause, looking
expectantly at the big girl.
"Now in and out, like you did before."
I do, and it feels very good. I go faster and faster.
"If you want, you can do it with me too," says another girl, who lays
herself out in similar fashion.
"No, keep doing it in me and give me the present!" says the adorable
girl I am presently stroking in and out of.
"Shhhh!" says the big girl. "Whichever one he wants."
I
look greedily at the other girl, pull unceremoniously out of the one
and mount the next. I make thrusting motions but my cock isn't pointed
in the right place, and I frown.
"Let me help you," sighs the girl I just pulled out of and reaches in
to aim my cock.
My
next thrust finds little girl wetness, and my instinct takes over,
pushing in deeper with each stroke until I'm in to the hilt.
"Like this?" I say lustily.
"Good boy! You've got it!" says the big girl.
Full
of pride, I thrust away. But I see another little girly, lying on her
side with the top leg up in the air, hand massaging her girly place.
"Want!"
I say, pointing, and in seconds I'm kneeling right beside her. The
girl's hand grabs my slick bobbing cock as it approaches and aims it. I
thrust and soon stuff her girly part full and more than full. "Nnnh,
nhhh, nhhh," I say, and fuck some more.
"I want them all!" I say with greed.
"That's good, you can have them all!" says the big girl.
I go from girl to girl, stabbing each in turn, feeling great pleasure
in each one.
I've done half the girls a second time when the big girl says, "Now,
you need to focus. Concentrate on one girl and keep going."
"But I want them all!" I say.
"Girls, go away so you don't distract him," she says softly.
"No, I want her!" I say, pointing to the first girl I entered.
"Very well, but you have to stick with her then."
"OK," I say reluctantly.
Soon
it's just me and the little girl I'm covering and thrusting my penis in
and out of, with the big one standing out of sight behind us.
The little girl looks behind me, getting some sort of instructions from
the big one.
"Now
just keep pressing in and out like that. Keep your mind on how good it
feels." Just then she gives me a Kegel-style pussy squeeze. "Does it
feel good?" It sure does! I nod but don't smile, as I 'm concentrating
now.
"So just keep thinking how good it's feeling and how you want to make
it feel even better!"
"Something about a present?" I pant.
"Oh, the present will take care of itself!" she says. "Just worry about
doing it so it feels better and better!"
I
nod and thrust, the pleasure building and building. Suddenly it crashes
and I feel fantastic while I feel my cock twitching. "Aaaaahhhhh!
Aaaaahhhhh!" I say with a big smile.
The girl below smiles and twitches, murmuring, "Thank you."
The big girl steps forward. "You did it! Good boy!"
I pull out, grinning, but then I frown. "What about the present?"
"You did it! You gave her the present! It came out the tip of your
weewee when it felt so good!"
"Oh! It did?" I shrug. "I felt something and was afraid I'd made
peepee," I say, looking down.
"No, that's not peepee! That's the present. You did it just right!"
"Oh," I say, feeling proud, but then remember. "I want my candy."
The
big girl gets me a half-dozen M&M's. I find another bed and lie
down on my side. When I've swallowed the candy I stick my thumb in my
mouth and close my eyes. Some sweet girl pulls a sheet over me.
I'd spurted, I'd felt great, the girl had felt great, and I lay back
relaxing.
"Now
squat right over here, Maisie. That's good... now reach up inside and
pull the semen out and right onto this cup... good girl." That was the
voice of a real grown-up, Kristin, one of my assistants.
A few
minutes later, when I got it up again and was about to thrust into
another girl, Kristin rubbed a blob of it on the tip of my penis.
I
thrust into the girl. I pawed her, lay on her, pounded her hard, made
grunts, pounded her harder, said a few nasty words, pounded her harder
still, and faked an orgasm. Kristin looked expectantly at the girl.
Alas, no relief. Another time Kristin used a turkey baster to squirt
some of the second-hand semen into the girl before I entered her, and
another time she put it in after, and another time I pulled out in the
middle long enough for her to stick it in and I went back in to finish
up my fake orgasm. No relief from any of it.
It was a thought --
make the girl and her body perceive that I'd ejaculated into her, and
put the actual semen up inside separately. We could have treated more
girls and alleviated more suffering -- and made more money. But it
didn't work.
We could stretch me only so far. The semen had to shoot out of my penis
at the same time I had a genuine, physical orgasm.
I try to dodge her, relishing memories of my recent intimate
encounters, but my chief assistant Priscilla grabs my arm.
"Jim, you have to listen to this."
"I count on you to handle all the details."
"It's not a detail. You have to listen."
I stand still and look at her.
"You're aware of the medical research they've been doing, the trials
for a drug that treats SLGS."
"They've had trials before. Nothing ever happens with them."
"Yes, some of the other trials didn't work. But this one looks like
it's going to."
I frowned. "When will it hit the market? When will it matter?"
"It looks like next month. You have to be prepared for this all to end."
"But... But won't they want to stick with the proven treatment?"
"Maybe, but remember what you're doing here. There's a drawback to your
treatment."
"What's that?"
"You're raping little girls."
"I am not! They all like it. Well, some aren't so wild about it the
first time..."
"Jim, think back now. You've been doing this for two years. What was
life like before that?"
I
take a deep breath and think back. I remember Meredith's initial
contacts, how strange and frightening it had seemed -- and how totally
wondrous the idea that I'd get to try having sex with one little girl,
one time.
"Oh."
Priscilla waits.
"But haven't society's attitudes changed? Don't they see how it's just
fine?"
"Jim,
this is all very hush-hush. Society doesn't know it's happening. The
girls' parents stay quiet because they want their girls to stay healthy
-- and want them to live." I know that the latest reports indicate the
one-year survival rate for SLGS when not treated is 79%. Put another
way, it's a 21% death rate.
"But there have been leaks."
"Yes,
which your guardian angels, whoever they are, skillfully deflect by
putting out lots of false but similarly plausible stories. I'm amazed
they've pulled it off."
"Oh. So you're saying I'll have to stop?"
"Yes, Jim. I think it's going to wind down and stop."
"Oh, what will I do? How will I live?"
"You can afford to retire. I think you have about $40 million in the
bank."
"I do? I thought it was $10 million?"
"As
your schedule filled up, the prices of the remaining slots got higher
and higher. The record is someone who gave us $3 million for a private
spot."
"Oh, yeah, you've told me this... So I have money. But I'll really have
to stop?"
"I'm afraid so."
I
cringed whenever I remembered that conversation over the next months.
They say power tends to corrupt, and I had power. I was also having
such a great time, and so were the girls!
But the new drug was approved, and it worked quite well.
My
bookings dropped off. I was aware as I spurted mutual ecstasy into each
girl that it might be the last time. I began to say with total
sincerity tender things like, "In case I don't see you again, I just
wanted to say goodbye and that you're a wonderful little girl."
The
business did not disappear overnight. For one thing, the drug didn't
work for everyone. For another, it had bad side effects for some girls.
Of course, from one perspective, my treatment had some bad side
effects, like requiring a 4-year-old girl to do various naughty things
for a few hours and then get fucked by a grown man. But it was a side
effect they were used to -- and in fact some of them liked it, beyond
what they all liked: that rush when the blah feelings dissipated within
seconds of my ejaculation.
Of course a lot of parents would
never dream of sending a girl to me one more time than necessary if the
drug worked well enough to keep her healthy -- even if there were
uncomfortable side effects.
Others took a more liberal view.
Yes, I was sexually abusing their daughters, but what did that mean
exactly? There was no physical damage. It was being done for the girl's
health, and with her parents' permission. Whatever psychological damage
there might be from the first 30 sex acts, it wasn't clear that 10 more
would make it any worse. Some felt that giving the girl the power of
choice would be the best thing for her. She hadn't had any choice about
starting the treatments, but she could control when she stopped -- and
if she stopped.
Some girls loved the group format, so we still
arranged 5-hour blocs of sex with a dozen girls. However, as demand
dropped the frequency dropped from ten sessions a week to just one.
Other girls switched to brief private sessions. They got my full
undivided attention but still got the rush from semen delivered deep in
their vaginas. Some parents thought that was a good transitional step
towards stopping, as we at least modeled the idea that sex was supposed
to be an act between just two people.
Another effect was that
the price for my services dropped dramatically. Girls who couldn't
afford private sessions before now could. Some who got by on one
treatment every 30 days could now go back to one every 10 days and feel
a lot better most of the time.
For attractive girls, I made a
special offer to align parental priorities with my desires: my fee
covered once every ten days, but if the girls wanted, we could do it
more often. Some girls didn't like feeling even a little bit bad, and
preferred feeling good all the time to the little rush of feeling
better -- but their parents might not want to pay for that extra treat.
For a few girls, I did them every other day.
Some girls just
liked sex. They liked knowing how much I desired them, and they liked
making me happy. They liked the good feelings in their genitals. For
some it meant orgasm during intercourse. As my caseload dropped, I had
more time to provide tender and leisurely oral sex, which meant orgasm
to many more.
A common element to all these cases was that the
girls were already used to our sessions together. Over time these cases
disappeared because the girls grew up. Originally doctors had noticed
that the condition never affected a girl above the age of 10. As timed
passed they discovered that the girls grew out of it by roughly the
same age.
Within 6 years of the drug's availability, almost all
my 4-year-olds were all better. Around the same time a 100% effective
drug came on the market. Word came from my angel that with no medical
necessity, he could no longer protect me. We closed up shop completely
just shy of 8 years after my first encounter with Katy.
So what
does a man do when he's gone through the changes I have? I started in
my teens hating myself for being a pedophile, then adjusted to the idea
that I could never in my life have sex with the little girls who were
the only ones I really found attractive. At 52 I discovered with wonder
that I not only could have sex with a girl, but sex with multiple
girls, multiple times, and I was limited only by how often I could
convince my body to ejaculate. That pace of activity dropped off
sharply after two years but I still had sex with a little girl at least
a couple times a week until age 60, when it stopped completely.
My
free time increased dramatically as soon as the first drug came on the
market. I did some of the things any single wealthy man with simple
tastes might do. I played golf, got season tickets to the Knicks and
the Yankees, and gave money to charities. Then once my business stopped
completely I took a trip around the world.