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From: DiscipleN <thedisciplen@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Pedretti Park by DiscipleN (Mf, cons, nc, minimal sex)
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Date: Sun, 20 May 2012 07:10:02 -0400
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Pedretti Park by DiscipleN

   Not long ago, the shit-storm finally took a small break.  I am a
pedophile and I have paid for my mistakes.  But the shit-storm said, "No.
You are a criminal forever, and your crimes can never be forgiven."

   Maybe they're right, but even criminals have rights.  We may perhaps
deserve the fewest, but most of us deserve the right to live.  Those who
killed or maimed horribly in their sickness, probably don't.  The system
has many ways to ensure they don't.

   But me, I fondled and fornicated, leaving at worst, the slightest of
bruises in the most understandable places.  Got twenty years and daily
poundings for it.  I paid.

   The shit-storm said I never would pay, but the U.S.  Supreme Court
eventually capitulated, on one tiny issue.  We had nowhere to live.  Laws
from city to nation restricted our residences so severely, we were given
the same 1st Americans were given, a trail of tears.  After the ruling,
similar reservations were set aside.  I was dumped in Pedretti Park.

   Unlike reservations, ours was just one block by one block on the edge of
the worst part of town, in the worst town in the state.  We were given
menial labor, basic food, water, and a few portable toilets.  We lived in
tents, if we could afford them, cardboard boxes and blue plastic tarps if
we couldn't.

   Signs were posted.  Ads were placed.  Public service announcements
warned.  They might have simply wrapped the park in police tape
proclaiming, "DANGER: PEDOPHILES!!" Citizens who dared enter threatened us
with either a shotgun or a cross.  A few representatives of both eventually
ended up living here.  Passerby's simply shouted insults.  The police where
forbidden to enter.  These were federal reservations.  US marshals and the
FBI had jurisdiction.  but none of them gave a damn about us.  They got
their merit badges for finding terrorists and new pedophiles.

   It sucked, but prison was worse.  Three committed suicide.  If only they
had kept a shred of hope, in this place that became a beacon of it.  Not
one year passed before the next stage of our plight began, and it was
wonderful.

   I didn't see or hear it, but everyone heard about it the next day.  An
eight year old girl entered the park at dusk.  She was wearing an XL
T-shirt printed with, "Please, don't hurt me."

   Marley, the luckiest bastard on the earth found her wandering
frightened. He hesitated, almost worried it was a trap but quickly realized
he was already in one.  This girl was the strawberry between the wolf and
the cliff's edge.  Marley bit.  The shirt and it's request was quickly
discarded.  The girl cried and cried, begging her mother to take her back.

   In his lust, Marley hardly heard the child, but after satiation, he
reflected on her pleas.  He wasn't surprised when a woman appeared, visibly
excited in the moonlight, and picked up her abused girl.

   "Why, Mommy, why?" She blubbered.  "It hurt so bad!"

   "Oh, I'm so awful sorry, Penny.  Mommy was hurt long ago, and she can't
forget.  I couldn't help myself.  I had to relive it." Shedding tears twice
the size of her child's, the woman carried her away from the park.

   We wouldn't have believed Marley's tale, if he hadn't shown us the
t-shirt stained with her and his fluids.  I sniffed it.  The smell could
only have come from a little girl.  His tale would have become a legend, if
it hadn't happened again, about a month later but very differently.

   The stars were out that night.  The moon was dark.  The air was cool,
and I was simply looking at the sky, trying to forget my troubles.

   "Hey, you fucking kid fucker!" A brutish voice startled me.  I almost
ran, fearing the shotgun.  I looked around, unsure where the voice was. 
Two shadow figures, one tall, one small stood just inside the park
boundary. The tall one growled again, "This is your fucking, lucky day." He
pushed his companion forward.

   "Dad!" A boy's voice cried.

   "Shut up, you gay shit!  I'll kick the tar out of you again, if don't do
what I told you." The man directed his next threat to me.  "Fuck this boy's
butt until it bleeds, got it?  Caught the little shit sucking the neighbor
boy's dick.  I figure, if he thinks he's gay, he better be ready for what
the fuck that means.  Then maybe he'll think again, got it?"

   I got it, alright.  Telling this idiot: I wasn't gay, and he was
confusing two myths (that gays were pedophiles, and pedophiles were all
gay), would only get the tar kicked out of me.  Instead, "Did you want to
watch?" I confronted him.

   "Hell, no!  What you fags do is worse than cannibals.  I'll be back at
sunrise to pick 'im up.  Set him standing on the corner there, cuz I doubt
he'll want to stand." He grunted a laugh and strode off.

   From where I stood, I told the boy.  "It gets better.  We'll get you
back to your dad after he's calmed."

   "He's a vicious mule." The boy spat.

   "My name is Ernest.  I'm not gay, and I don't care if you are.  Some of
the guys here are.  Some aren't but will do a boy anyway.  So, if you stick
around your dad's wish might come true." I warned.

   I found out, later, the boy was thirteen, but his growth spurt hadn't
yet started.  He surprised me.  He ran and hugged himself around my waist.
"You don't know..." The boy cried.  I just let him.  He didn't have to say
it.  No love, not even understanding had ever shined on him.

   The next morning his dad actually checked for blood on his son's ass,
before he let him into his truck.  It was Sidney's blood, from his cock. 
When I introduced the boy to Sidney, he cut it for the boy's sake.  Sidney
sobbed continuously, after pouring out every ounce of love his gentle soul
could give the boy, and he sobbed for days on.  The boy had promised, when
he was 18, he'd rescue Sidney, just as Sidney had rescued him.

   It would never happen, and Sidney knew it, but that night his future had
been granted into heaven.

   No one expected the two bizarre events to signal a trend.  Two months
passed before the next occurred, but afterwards a floodgate opened.

   I witnessed it.  That doesn't mean much, because half the park's
population witnessed it.  He ran into the park screaming, "I'll kill her!
I'll kill her!" He weighed more than a granite statue his height.  Huffing
and puffing, his shrieks didn't carry more than twenty yards, but he was
strong enough to drag the unfortunate girl across the dirt where grass once
grew.

   By the time he reached the center of the park, half the community had
surrounded him.  Two patrol cars had screeched to a stop.  The cops jumped
out and yelled into their mic's threatening to break jurisdiction if a fed
didn't show up in the next minute.

   "Let her go." Marley spoke first.  There was a chance he didn't just
want the tart for himself.

   "Bullshit!  I love her!  She's everything to me!" The fat man hugged the
girl like a flattened pillow.  She wasn't crying.  That struck me. 
Couldn't be more than nine, and she acted more confused than frightened. 
Dirty face, disheveled hair, eyes downcast, feet naked.  The immaculate,
robin egg blue dress she wore couldn't have been hers.

   Later I learned, Hall, had just put it on the girl when a phone call
from his wife tipped him off about the cops.  They had showed at his house,
where his personal, fiber internet connection was dedicated to downloading
pre-teen, snuff videos.  But Hall was at the apartment he rented for
parties with girls like Tiss.

   He'd run like chicken with its head cut off, out the back fire escape,
through an alley, down several streets, when sirens were first audible. 
You'd think the guy would have gotten clean away.  At least he was smart
enough to abandon his car.  But every person he passed simply pointed the
police his way.

   The second after his outburst, Hall was lying in a pool of blood surging
out of what was the back of his head.  Upon gunshot, the girl leaped at me.
She grabbed my shirt and buried her face.  "I don't want to see it."

   A cop had pulled out a sniper rifle.  Firing into the park was sure to
be a grey area of the law.  Certainly, she was saving the life of a girl.
And if the worst she got was banished from the city force and policing,
maybe she'd been willing to, to save a small life.

   What happened to me was slightly worse.  That's same as saying
elephantiasis is slightly worse than a bruised limb.

   "You, creep with the girl!  Hands in the air.  Twitch and you win the
next bullet!"

   I reached high.  A few others stuck their hands up, just in case.  The
girl didn't let go.  Sweat escaped my forehead like fleas in a poisoned
carpet.

   "We'll protect you, little girl.  You're safe now.  Come on out of the
park."

   She look up and shouted in the cutest, belligerent little girl voice
I've ever heard.  "Fuck you, pig!"

   A shot rang out, and missed -- my brain.

   I woke to helicopters flying outside the building.  The nurse checking
my pulse looked bored.  "Captain, he's coming 'round."

   It seems, I had been the only one to leave the park.  The little girl
remained.  The bullet had torn into my shoulder blade and cracked my
clavicle.  My parkmates had tied my shirt around the wound and carried me
out.  Fortunately, an ambulance was already in-bound.  Standard police
procedure.

   I was now lying in post-op: bullet removed, plaster hump, and with
insufficient pain meds.

   The 'Captain', introduced himself.  "Name is Beasly.  I'm an FBI special
operant, not to be confused with agent.  I'm ex-military they sometimes
call in.  Useless, in this case, but I was the only Fed within running
distance of your park.

   "I rode with you to the hospital."

   "Why'd you leave the park?" I mumbled, winced.

   "Situation had calmed, and I'm no negotiator.  Hell, if I didn't know
you were the lowest scum life-form in the galaxy, I'd give you a medal."

   "Huh?"

   "Cop shouldn't have fired, and she knew it.  At least, her second shot.
Nobody's complaining about the first, except his wife and her lawyer."

   "Anyway, when you took that bullet, the hostage situation took a
time-stop.  You were rushed to the hospital, and a dozen feds eventually
infiltrated the park.  They're still looking for that girl."

   "Huh?" It was actually more of a grunt from pain.

   "No.  I get to ask questions.  It's not that big of a park.  Where would
your sick friends have hidden her?"

   I mumbled again, "Tent?  Under a tent?  Hole in the ground?" Fuck, how
the hell do you hide an eight-year old from the FBI?  "I dunno." I
concluded.

   "I could put you in a hole in the ground." Captain Beasly steamed.

   I gulped.

   He turned away and left the hospital I guess, because the next day I was
put into a squad car and driven back to the park.  Cops confiscated my
pills.

   Our official legal representative met me.  He wanted to know where the
girl was, too.  I was in so much pain, I told him, "Get my pills back, and
I'll tell you anything you want to hear." Shadows from television
helicopters flickered upon us like anti-neon.

   He laughed, "Welcome home."

   I just wanted to lay down in my tent.  That I actually reached it on my
own two feet amazes me today.  The only thing more amazing was, the girl
was in it.  Suddenly, all my pain left like a gust of wind.  I collapsed
onto my cot and stared stupidly.

   Fucking brat could cram herself into a fucking ice chest too small for a
large teddy bear.  She was rail thin.  The dress she'd worn at our
introduction concealed her spindliness.  No wonder the fat man could drag
her around like paper.

   It took a while to figure out why the dogs hadn't found her.  Feds had
probably used the dress to give them a scent.  She must have slipped the
dress to fit into the chest outside my tent.  During the day, the chest is
my stool in the shade.  Dogs didn't find the girl because she was right
next to the fucking dress!

   "Hey, mister.  Don't tell anybody.  Okay?"

   I could barely shake my head.

   "Good.  My name is Tiss.  What's yours?"

   I told her.

   "You look real hurt."

   I nodded.  It was getting harder to look at her.  This waif must have
belonged to a starving village populated with clones of Idi Amin.  Her skin
was as rough as mine.  Her puss and breasts (sad, tiny things) were scarred
like West Virginia mountainsides.  She must have been whipped and pounded
for years.  Hall had only been the tip of that iceberg.

   I closed my eyes and cried.  I rediscovered the pain in my body.  The
pain in my soul brushed it away.  She was one in a million, a survivor
among 999,999 victims.  She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever known.
There was no way in hell I would have lusted after her.

   She opened my pants, took out my dick, and began sucking it.  She could
hold her breath like crazy.  She stopped only to ask, "Does this help?"

   My eyes opened involuntarily.  I was forced to watch her smooth, quick
strokes, to sense her persistent tongue.  She proved me a terribly liar.  I
came into her mouth, and she swallowed every spurt.

   Then she curled up with me.  We slept.

   "WHOA!  NO!!  Fuck.  NO!" Sidney gasped, fighting to keep from shouting.
It was 9 pm, and he had come to check on me.  Good thing he did, or I might
have died.

   Tiss had woken, drank from the water jug, pissed in the coverable
bucket, and then mounted me after manhandling my prick into a fresh
erection.  I awoke, mid-cum.  My life flashed before my eyes.  I feared I
would never stop gushing hot sperm into her veteran cunt.

   At Sidney's outcry, Tiss jumped off my cock and cringed in the farthest
corner of the tent.  My dick spouted three last globs, and I was dizzy. 
"SHHHHH-idney!  For hell-burning sake, shut up."

   "Th-that's her." His voice warned imminent freak-out.

   "Yes.  She is." I despaired.  "Now look around, get in here, and do it
casually.  If anyone's watching, smile back and shine your best 'I'm an
idiot' look.

   Tiss caught my drift first.  She took a deep breath and straightened,
watching Sidney carefully.

   I told her, "He's all right.  He's into boys, consensual boys."

   Until midnight we plotted and planned.  There had to be a way to keep
Tiss and we parked pedos safe from the outside.

   We spent a week, carefully indoctrinating fellow parkers.  If they
showed any sign of disagreement, we kept them in the dark about Tiss. 
Eventually, over half of the population came a hundred percent behind the
plan.

   When the feds or local cops raided, our 24 hour watch crew signaled Tiss
into hiding.  We found her a much larger ice chest, but she preferred mine.
She worried that cops might be tempted to look into larger bins.

   I worried about her getting hurt by cramping herself so tightly.  At
some point, she wouldn't be able to fit.  Her cheeks were already fleshing
out from food parceled her way.  In return, she made a lot of pedos happier
than they had been since their incarceration.  No one asked her or told her
to do anything.  That was rule, number one.

   Rule two was, always watch the others, the ones who didn't know about
Tiss.  Some of them were right mean.  The justice system kept the dangerous
pedos in real prisons.  Still, in any population, bad eggs will grow more
rotten.  Tiss's silent bodyguard never failed her, until they did.

   A random joe peeked out of his cardboard and tarp home at the wrong
moment.  Three men were ferrying Tiss to a new rendezvous.  The joe freaked
worse than Sidney!  It was inevitable.  We couldn't hide her forever.  We
knew this.  The plan was ready for it.

   Tiss's bodyguards pushed her inside the tent and started yelling,
out-shouting the joe.

   "We found her!  We found her!" It was the key phrase that roused
everyone in on the plan.  Soon dozens of men were shouting it.  In the
planned confusion, Tiss escaped out of the park just before cops and a
couple feds started calling for backup.

   That was a rough night.  They turned over every blade of grass.  They
looked in our assholes.  They looked up every tree.  They dug holes and
cleared brush.  They rounded us up and made us stand for 12 hours straight.
I fainted.  Sidney held on to me.

   Our official legal representative was present at everyone's
interrogation.  We think he was squeezing bellows to keep the branding fire
hot.  Nobody lied, but nobody told the whole truth.  There wasn't much left
of the plan to tell.  We told them, Tiss would give herself over to the
police the following morning, but only if Captain Beasly had a private
discussion with Sidney and myself.

   That private discussion turned into the largest media circus the town
had ever suffered.  We're pretty sure the Captain didn't know a wire had
been placed on him.  It didn't matter.  We handed the important info over
on a piece of paper.  Then we told him to shoot a blue flare over the park.
Tiss would appear the next morning.  He actually ate the paper before
stomping out and shooting the flare.

   The last part of the plan relied on Tiss.  Her challenge proved almost
too easy with the vast crowds surrounding the park.  She sneaked back in.
After their most thorough search yet, the cops didn't expect that.

   Okay, I lied.  The last part of the plan relied on the morality of our
representative.  Our group of reliable pedos marched as one to the main
entrance.  The representative stopped us.

   "Where's the girl?" He snarled.

   "She hasn't appeared?" I blinked stupidly.

   Behind him, dozens of cops barracaded a mob of reporters.  One lucky TV
personality had helicoptered Tiss's parents to be there, on a tip.

   I said, "Tell the crowd, if they're willing to stand still and let the
girl make a statement, only then will she appear."

   At that moment, he knew he could have just yelled for the cops and would
have found her.  He knew then almost everything I knew.  He turned and
strode up to a police captain.  Without asking, he took the woman's
bullhorn an announced, "The girl wants to make a statement."

   Every time he repeated himself, the crowd fell further silent.

   The scum of Pedretti Park parted and Tiss stepped forward.  Jim, our rep
told us his first name afterwards, held the bullhorn to her lips.

   "Hi Mommy and Daddy!  I hope they drop you in the deepest hell ever dug.
Because both of you are here, I know that my sister, Shari, is locked
inside mother's cello case, back home.  You were always so afraid for our
safety.  Locking us, tying us, burying us, before you and mom went out, was
your way to save us from evil burglars and babysitters."

   "What are you saying, dearest?" The father desperately bellowed.  "Those
freaks have turned you against us!"

   "No.  These freaks have sent Captain Beasly to rescue Shari."

   "These freaks showed me kindness, respect, and a love I don't
understand. It don't ask for anything.  I want to give them everything!"
Tiss turned to Jim and offered him her hand.  She stretched up close and
whispered something.  I couldn't hear what she said, the crowd was roaring
again.  I'd bet my tent she asked him, "Would you like to fuck me, later?"
I know it.  I didn't even have to see the flush in his cheeks.

   The cops actually did the right thing and cuffed Tiss's parents.  But
the arrest was probably to protect them.  The crowd would have torn them to
pieces.

   Tiss never returned to Pedretti Park.  She became a celebrity for a few
years, until puberty struck, and she was just another crazy adolescent.

   Crazier, the myth of our park spread like a tsunami, slow, everywhere,
and irresistible.  We were the saviors of abused girls and boys. 
Government statistics for missing children skyrocketed, inversely
proportionate to the distance from Pedretti.  Beautiful, ugly, scarred,
battered, emotionally abused children ran from their homes, seeking safety
and real love.

   For the rest of our lives, Sidney and I devoted ourselves to fucking as
many as we could.
   The End 

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