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From: I Like Um Young <nomail@yourmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.stories.incest
Subject: it could be worse! (Mf, cons, pedo, incest)
Date: Sat, 29 May 2004 22:35:27 -0000
Organization: Your Company
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===================
it could be worse! (Mf, cons, pedo, incest)
An Erotic Story
AUTHOR Frank McCoy
I am just a poster and not the author Of This Story!
Warning: contents are adult erotic entertainment material.
If you are a
minor or will be offended by such material, stop right now
and delete
this file.
By downloading this material you certify that:
You are an adult, being at least 18 years of age. You are
not accessing
this
material to use against any person whomsoever in any
conceivable manner; and that you are not a member of any
law enforcement
organization or an officer of any court nor acting as agent
for such.
Your
further certify that you will not
permit any minor to see this material, or any other person
who might
find
such material personally offensive.
You believe that such material does not offend the standard
of the
community
in which you live and that your community subscribes to the
principles
of
the First Amendment which holds that free adult Americans
have the right
to
decide for themselves what they will read and view without
governmental
interference,All the standard rules apply. If you are
offended
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you
are
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else
thinks you
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and
remove this
text from your computer.
This is purely a work of
fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the
activities or
actions described,
This story is not for everyone and may contain some quite
graphical
depictions of children, adolescents, and adults in extreme
sexual
situations. If any of this subject matter offends you then
don't read
it.
The things depicted herein are purely fiction.
If you've gotten past that, I'm going to assume that, like
me, you are a
sick fuck who gets off on pre-teens. If not, what are you
doing reading this?
It was a mistake to even object, Kirsten figured out
later.
"But Mom! I can't wear this!" Kirsten held up the
one-
piece uniform. Each almost skintight dress had been
custom-
fitted to each ballplayer; molding itself to the girl's
body
almost like it was painted on. Slight padding emphasized
the
already budding breasts of the barely pre-teen girl; and
the
bottom of the skirt barely fell below the child's hips
enough to
cover up the supplied white panties that were in stark
contrast
to navy-blue, almost black dress. When she sat down, it
was
impossible to sit without at least a slight occasional
"panty
shot" being noticeable; and the white panties made it
certain
that anybody looking couldn't help but notice the
indentation the
girl's sex made in the white material. In fact, the three
pairs
of custom-fitted panties that came with each uniform all
seem to
have a crease molded right into the material . . . just to
emphasize the girl's slit underneath.
"Why not?" asked her mother reasonably. "It's much
better
made than those cheap outfits the vacuum-cleaner house
supplied
you girls with last year."
This was true enough. The dress, while short, was
made of
far sturdier material; and yet was much softer as well.
Unlike
the pants and cheap shirt the girls had worn the year
before,
this outfit looked like it would easily last two or even
three
seasons . . . only the girl would outgrow it long before
then.
"You remember all the complaints we had last year about the
uniform quality . . . well this year the manager found an
organization willing to supply real quality uniforms for
you
girls; as long as they got to do the design, and put their
logo
on it. I'd think you girls would be grateful."
"Some organization . . . Local Child-Molesters
International," said Kirsten, holding up the outfit. "Look
at
this Mom! I can't wear an outfit that says this!" Kirsten
held
up the short little dress to her front, so the lettering
was
fully visible. What bugged her most was the implied
meaning of
wearing a uniform promoting such an outfit; followed
closely by
the way the lettering spelled out something she couldn't
bring
herself to say out loud. Just like some semi-humorous
shirts the
girl had seen other teenagers wear, saying thing like:
I like
B.U.M.
Equipment
This dress was similarly emblazoned with the name of
the
organization supplying the uniforms; just like all previous
suppliers had their names on the cheaper uniforms
previously
supplied. It was Kirsten's misfortune to have picked
Number-two
for her team outfit, before knowing who the sponsor was;
thus
just emphasizing the almost obscene message.
"Nonsense," replied her mother. "They don't molest
children. Every one of those girls are highly paid
professional
actresses, whose parents have trained them almost since
birth.
Nobody there is forcing girls to have sex; the kids all
love
it . . . you can see it from their faces."
1
"Yeah . . . like you said, they're all professional
actresses," replied Kirsten, somewhat bitterly. Couldn't
her
team have found ANYBODY other than the local "Fraternal
Union of
Childporn Kindersluts" to sponsor the girls?
Once again she blushed at the message the dress seemed
to
give the world, as the recognition, her number, and the
initials
of the sponsor appeared in three lines on both back and
front:
I like
2
F.U.C.K.
"Mom, she objected weakly, one last time. Can't you
see
what it SAYS?"
Her mother shrugged. "So what?" she asked. "You're
12
years old now . . . I should think that letting the world
know
you like sex wouldn't matter. Anyway, we don't have much
choice;
as the courts ruled that the suppliers of the uniforms can
decide
what the outfits look like . . . as long as the uniforms
cover
the genitals properly; which with those white panties,
these do."
At her daughter's raised hand and open mouth in
objection,
the woman continued, "And you certainly don't need to worry
about
the members of F.U.C.K. molesting YOU . . . you're much too
old
for them. I hear they don't hire ANY girls to perform in
their
erotic films with older men after they reach the age of 9,
and
most are a lot younger; preferring virgins when they start
out . . . I hope YOU aren't still a virgin. Are you?"
Wordlessly the little girl shook her head. Kirsten
was NOT
going to admit to her mother she had only lost her hated
cherry
barely 8 months earlier . . . and then having to resort to
her
own brother to do the job. The girl was not THAT bad
looking; it
seeming to be her almost pristine attitude that had kept
older
men and boys from making passes at her before.
"Besides," her mother said; looking a the sexy figure
her
daughter made in the "kinderslut" outfit that almost
mimicked the
ones she had seen little 10-year-old porno-stars wear
before
losing their clothes in the inevitable orgy you always saw
on
film these days, when little girls were cast opposite adult
males. "It could have been worse."
"Yeah, right," said Kirsten bitterly; wondering just
how
things could be worse than going out to play ball in an
outfit
that wasn't just an invitation to rape, but declared in
large
letters to the entire world that the pubescent and nubile
young
girl wearing the outfit enjoyed sex tremendously . . . even
if it
WAS true; it was as embarrassing as heck! What could be
worse
than that?
Kirsten found out at the first game against a team
from
across town. To her almost disappointed surprise, not one
of the
leering men in the stands more than glanced at her and her
cute
teammates in their sexy little "kinderslut" outfits that
suddenly
seemed almost demure, as the other girls' team walked out
on the
field.
2
Short tops, bare midriff, micro-minis slit down the
side,
all in matching black satin barely covered the opponents.
The
short little tube-tops were barely large enough to hold the
numerals identifying each player, along with the sponsor
identification and the player's number between them, with a
#
symbol that looked more like a dollar sign preceding it.
Player
#25 on the other team got Kirsten's attention most The
short
little tube top on the long-haired brunette read:
I.M.A.
$.25
W.H.O.R.E
while long fishnet stockings, and black shoes covered the
girls'
legs. To complete the outfit, each girl had a conductor's
metal
change-machine belted to the front of the short little
skirt.
Stiletto heels would have been all that was needed to make
any of
the girls look completely at home leaning against a
lamppost in
seedier parts of town. However, the outfits were GOOD
outfits;
and the shoes were flat with spikes suitable for playing
ball.
The mesh stockings were made of rugged material, and so
were the
black silk pants and stretch tops that jiggled with every
move
the girls made.
Even the change-machine looked like quality
workmanship;
comfortable to wear, yet sturdy and well-built enough to
supply
change for years before wearing out; not one of the cheap
toys
you sometimes see.
Kirsten looked around wondering . . . sure enough she
saw a
shy little redhead sitting on the opposite team's bench,
wearing
a tube-top that proclaimed that THIS little hooker could be
had
for only a penny. Kirsten blushed to think of what the
boys at
school would have said if she had been on THAT team, with
her
choice of #2 in the line-up. It was bad enough having
everybody
in town know that she liked to fuck . . . the number of
boys and
yes even teachers who had gotten into her pants in the
barely two
weeks since she and the other girls first got the uniforms,
just
because they all knew she couldn't turn down sex from any
decent
guy who wanted to date her . . . even if the "date" was
only a
hot-dog and coke, was getting almost ridiculous. If this
kept
up, Kirsten figured she would be nursing her first baby in
less
than a year; as her mother had refused to put her on the
pill
until she was 16; saying it was HER problem if she couldn't
keep
her legs closed until then; at the same time almost
inviting
everybody in town to fuck the little girl . . . almost
holding
her daughter's legs open . . . by making the child wear the
team
outfit not only to practice; but to school and church as
well.
Still, to have to give it away to anybody who walked down
the
streets, and for only two cents a pop . . . .
Yes, her mother was right after all. It definitely
could
have been worse.
3