Tiny Depravities - A collection of my very short stories about little things

by jschild

Summary:

This is a collection of all my short stories that are too short for their own section. All manner of depravities, kinks, and even wholesome acts involving fresh fruit will be collected here. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Story index and tags

Summary:

This is an index of all my stories contained within, with descriptors and the main tags relevant to each short story.

TINY DEPRAVITIES STORY INDEX (Note, all stories involve underage sex, either past or present)

1) Story Time - A woman helps get a man off by telling him her past trauma (Trauma Kink, Rape Kink, Violent Sex)

2) Nighttime Visits - A young girl fears the footsteps approaching her bedroom door and what it means (Incest, Rape, Violence)

3) Polaroid - A man goes through the diary of a girl he'd just murdered and raped (Snuff, Rape, Cruel)

4) Daddy's Little Girl - A daughter moves to a new city with her father as they plan to continue their family tradition (Incest, Love, Devotion)

5) She should have been more careful - A man chats with a naive girl before taking her away forever. (Kidnapping, Grooming, Implied Rape)

6) An uncle's love - An uncle expresses his true love of his niece (Incest, Grooming, Molestation)

7) A painful divorce - A woman laments her divorce, unable to understand why her daughters wanted to stay with their father despite him clearly cheating on her (Incest, Love)

8) The very definition of love - A woman explains what cum means to her (Cum, Cum Fetish, Validation Kink)

9) Of course not - A girl hopes that letting men use her finally makes her good enough despite, deep down, knowing the answer (Self-worth issues)

10) Hatred - A girl thinks about all the things and people she hates and why (Self Hatred, Rape, Incest)

11) Frozen - A woman freezes up when she is groped and later abused (Grope, Rape, Rape Confession)

12) Just Trash - A young girl is raped and dumped in the trash (Rape, Abandonment, Forced Pregnancy)

13) They told her so - A broken woman believes she wants the sexual abuse heaped upon her (Sexual Abuse, Abuse Kink, Grooming)

14) I would - A young woman talks to the type of man she grew up with about all the things she would like to do and has done (Age Play, DDLG, Pedo encouragement)

15) Breastfeeding time - A mother calls her husband into the bedroom to help prepare her for breastfeeding their children (Bad Mom, Cum, Pedo encouragement)

16) So, you like them young? - A woman asks her boyfriend a very dangerous question as she jerks him off (Bad Mom, Pedo encouragement, Grooming)

17) Taking a stranger for a "ride" - A mom takes care of a bad man watching children in the park (Bad Mom, Pedo encouragement, Masturbation)

18) My daughter, on the other hand... - A wife's rejection of anal leads a father to a very perverse place (Anal, Incest)

19) Just a hole for her mother to share - A teen girl suffers as her mom shares her with her many boyfriends and clients (Forced Prostitution, Rape, Bad Mom)

20) Go slow - A young girl gets drunk with her stepfather, and he crosses a line with her (Incest, Grooming, Handjob)

21) How many times? - A young girl marks her bedpost every time she is taken and abused (Incest, Rape, Self Hatred)

22) I didn't know and I didn't care - A man pays for an old whore and her daughter, using the latter hard (Underage Prostitution, Bad Mom, Rough Sex)

23) Daddy's Touch - A young girl thinks about how much she loves her father's touch (Incest, Love, Devotion)

24) I remember - A girl recounts how she lost her innocence (Incest, Rape, Physical Abuse)

25) Discarded - Everyone throughout her life has tossed her aside (Snuff, Prostitution, Self-Worth Issues)

26) They're tearing her apart - A couple watches the destruction of their daughter (Bad Mom, Pedo encouragement, Snuff)

27) Still - A daughter drugs and holds her younger sister still for her father (Incest, Love, Rape)

28) Shhh... - An uncle tells his niece to be quiet as he sneaks into her bed (Incest, Grooming, Forced)

29) Secrets are the best - A girl has many secrets with her Daddy and other men online (Incest, Grooming, Online Exhibition)

30) Daughters, the greatest gift - A father talks about the gift that is his daughters (Incest, Grooming, Love)

31) Won't it? - A cruel man asks a woman if what she gets will be enough (Humiliation, Self-Worth Issues, Degradation)

32) Who's the Boss? - Using the lessons her father taught her, a daughter slowly asserts control over him (Incest, Control, Femdom)

33) My room - A girl talks about her room and what her father does with her there (Incest, Love, Devotion)

34) Worthless - A woman tries to improve but was always destined to fail (Self-Worth Issues, Abuse Kink, Addiction)

35) She had to know - A woman loves mutual masturbation with her boyfriend as he weaves disgusting stories. But they have to be fictional, right? (Pedo encouragement, Mutual Masturbation)

36) It's ok... - A daughter is stunned when her mother walks in on her being fucked by her mom's boyfriend. She's even more shocked when her mother seems to have been aware of it all along (Bad Mom, Implied Forced Prostitution, Incest)

37) I hate you - A daughter talks about her hate for her father, but why does she truly hate him? (Incest, Rape, Self-Hatred)

38) They told me... - Everyone in her life tells her what she "needs" to know (Incest, Sexual violence, Grooming)

39) Oral fixations - A father describes the important of cultivating oral fixations early (Incest, Grooming, Love)

40) Slut - A woman permanently reveals who she is to the world (Past incest, Cutting, Body writing)

41) - She knew who she was catering to - A young woman who looks even younger realizes her audience is mostly a particular type of man (Pedo encouragement, Age Play)

42) - Encourage - A man speaks truth to a woman who dresses up online like a little girl and encourages evil men (Pedo encouragement, Self-Worth Issues, Age Play)

43) Every family has one of them - A man talks about the troublesome child in the family he's taken control of (Incest, Rape, Grooming)

44) My first - A girl talks about the experience that led to her first kiss (Bestiality, Dog Sex)

45) Glowing - A father remarks on the beauty that is a well-spanked ass (Spanking, Incest)

46) Daddy's gone - An older sister tells her little sibling that despite their father being gone, she would be there for her. Just like her father was (Incest, Love, Grooming)

47) You'll always have him - A young girl opines on how she has finally learned what true love is (Incest, Love)

48) Do you want to hear about the first time my Daddy touched me again? - A woman plays with herself for a man online while telling him very fucked up stories (Pedo encouragement, Past incest, Online Prostitution)

49) A stepfather's love - A short discussion on how beautiful and perfect a stepfather's love can be and how nothing can deny it (Incest, Forced, Sexual Violence)

50) I know what love feels, smells, and tastes like - A young teen talks about what she knows about love. What it looks like. What it smells like. What it tastes like. White, creamy, love. Proof that she is loved, drenched all over her (Oral, Cum Fetish, Incest)

51) Ruined - A young girl briefly feels sexy in some stolen underwear before her life changes forever (Humiliation, Implied future rape, Self-Worth issues)

52) Take your medicine - A father gives her daughter medicine every night, even if she doesn't really need it (Incest, Rape, Drugged)

53) Ain't life grand? - An evil man explains all the reasons he loves little girls (Rape, Sexual Violence, Forced Prostitution)

54) Married in all but name - A daughter shares a secret love with her father (Incest, Love, Devotion)

55) The restroom at the park - A man goes into a restroom while out on a run and finds a special surprise waiting for him (Gangbang, Rough sex, Piss Drinking)

56) Spoiled - A teen doesn't get the car she wants for her birthday, and her anger about that will change her life (Snuff, Violent Sex, Rape)

57) That's a good piggy - A father plays a very special, very private game with his daughter. It's a game of dress-up, earning love, and pretending to be a grown-up (Incest, Bestiality, Grooming)

58) Let me show you a picture - A woman talks about why she misses her father so much (Incest, Abuse Kink, Love)

59) Gold Star - A teacher helps his small student do her very best in class, helping her earn all the gold stars she can (Praise Kink, Grooming, Teacher/Student)

60) Some problems take care of themselves - A man who should be having the worst day of his life keeps winning, to the detriment of all others (Snuff, Sexual Violence, Rape)

61) He only needed one - Two little girls sneak off from their parents while at the park, only to be kidnapped by a man who only needs one of them (Snuff, Kidnapping, Rape)

62) They taught her more than her parents ever did - A teen girl grows up mentored not by her parents but by the loving and totally not manipulative men online that she encounters (Online Prostitution, Grooming, Manipulation)

63) Anything for an A - A smart girl failing a math class does what she feels she needs to do to get an A (Teacher/Student, Rough sex, Pregnancy)

64) A gift for Ted - A young woman decides to encourage the man she loves by giving him the one thing he'd probably never touch (Incest, Grooming, Pedo Encouragement)

65) She never spoke again - Two orderlies make a late-night visit to a young woman in a mental institution, enjoying the fruits of her trauma (Gang Rape, Broken, Dehumanization)

66) Crack whores make the best mothers - Tracy was dealt a rotten hand in life. Thanks to her addictions, her daughter, Emma, will get an even worse one (Gang Rape, Forced Prostitution, Addiction)

67) Becoming a family man - A man recounts the journey he took to becoming a father to two beautiful girls (Pedo encouragement, Grooming, Molestation)

68) I want to stay a virgin - A senior talks about the games the football team likes to play with the incoming freshmen (Anal, Grooming, Manipulation)

69) Cocksleeve - A girl is slowly given a new purpose in life by her stepfather (Anal, Grooming, Rape)

70) Temptation - A good, honest religious man learns with his foster daughter that he may not be that good a man after all (Incest, Manipulation, Oral)

71) First taste - A father gives his daughter her first taste of his love for her (Incest, Grooming, Cum, Oral)

72) Detention - A rebellious young girl gets sent to an Academy with a reputation for "fixing" problematic students (Rape, Implied Incest, Grooming)

73) It's all about the eyes - A man describes his favorite part of a woman and what he does while watching it (Rape, Implied Snuff)

74) Excuses - A girl goes through her life, being abused and taking the abuse meant for her younger sister (Rape, Pedo Encouragement, Molestation)

75) The most popular girl at school - A girl becomes a legend for her free-loving acts at school and beyond. (Free use, Abuse, Slut)

76) What makes them tick? - A man wonders what exactly happened to the girl before him that turned her into the damaged goods she is today (Rape, Abuse, Damaged Goods)

77) Proof she was a good girl - A young girl seeks validation every moment she is free (Cum, Oral Fixation, Implied Incest)

78) She thought she was grown - A young girl, burdened with addicts for parents, finally decides to do something just for herself (Gang Rape, Neglected, Drug Use)

79) My stallion, my love - A young girl slowly falls in love with her horse in every way possible (Romantic, Cum, Bestiality)

80) Never talk to strangers - Allison is a good little girl who talks to someone she isn't supposed to (Grooming, Manipulation, Innocent)

81) Bullied - A girl is sexually abused and relentlessly bullied for the actions of her mother (Rape, Bullying, Forced Prostitution)

82) Turnabout - Sometimes, the only thing to do when someone treats you like meat is to return the favor. (Interracial, Oral, Sexual Slavery)

83) Every morning - A father thinks about his daughter and everything she does for him every morning (Incest, Oral, Loving)

84) Four hundred and seven days - A girl makes the mistake of cutting through an alley. A mistake that she will regret, but only for a specific amount of time (Gang Rape, Violence, Implied Snuff)

85) He just "knew" - A father just knows who his daughter truly is and treats her like he "knows" she wants to be treated. (Rape, Child Abuse, Trauma)

86) An accidental voyeur - A teenager becomes entranced with a young couple making out at the theater (Voyeur, Masturbation, Public sex)

87) She never cared for boys - A young teen blossoms into womanhood with the help of her best friend. (Puberty, Bestiality, Love)

88) Natural - A woman talks about all the "natural" things that were done to her, and what she now does to her students. (Incest, Grooming, Teacher/student)

89) The truth about Amanda - Amanda is a beautiful teen who keeps to herself, and rumors swirl about her. But only a select few know the truth about her. (Grooming, Babysitter, Implied Future Incest)

90) Beautiful - A young girl just wants to feel beautiful like her older sister. (Grooming, Manipulation, Innocent)

91) Sara made the team - Sara made the varsity track team and can't wait to tell her mother. (Depressing, Loss of virginity, Transactional sex)

92) When Tommy met Billy - A shy boy is befriended by a new kid at school, who teaches him so many things. (Friendship, Grooming, First Love)

93) The Case of the Cum-Filled Cunny - What trouble has our intrepid investigator gotten herself into this time? (Drugged Rape, Unconscious Rape, Incest)

94) Immaculate - An ill girl gets abused regularly at a religious institution until a "miracle" happens. (Gangbang, Suicidal Thoughts, Impregnation)

95) A girl's best friend - A very young, but very skilled young girl goes to the park to find a new best friend. (Groomed, Public Sex, Strangers)

96) Lonely little girls make the best pets - A little girl is slowly groomed by her neighbor into something new. (Groomed, Pet Play, Collared)

97) Lights, Camera, Crying! - A little girl gets a promise if she only does what the bad man tells her. (Kidnapped, Torture, Underage Masturbation)

98) Don't gaslight me - A young girl rejects all the lies that her "rescuers" tell her. (Kidnapped, Groomed, Body Writing)

99) You're welcome - A man on a special video talks to his audience about what they want and need. (Underage prostitution, Groomed, Anal Beads)

100) The cycle never ends - A man talks about being shown what true love is and how he came to continue a cycle that should never end. (Loving, Incest, Gentle)

Chapter 2: Story Time

Summary:

A woman helps get a man off by telling him her past trauma

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STORY TIME

She swirled her tongue around the stranger's cock and then purposely gagged herself on it. The guy clearly loved it and shoved her head down harder, making her drool as well as struggling to breathe. She'd met him five minutes earlier in the bar, and now she was in the men's bathroom, letting him ruin her throat, making her makeup run. It was exactly what she had wanted for the night, what she had needed.

"Mmm, you're a needy little fuckslut, aren't you?" the man nearly three times her age said. "Probably been doing that all your life," he said, mocking her. If only he knew, she thought. Then, smiling, she pulled off his cock, a string of drool connecting them, as she looked up at you. Her dress was pushed down, exposing her breasts, her lipstick was smeared, and her thong was around her ankles as she sat on the toilet.

"Do you really want to know?" she asked him, a devious look on her face. The old man's eyes widened as he gripped her hair almost painfully, jerking her head around.

"You fucking know I do, cunt," he said before shoving her head back. She never took her eyes off him, stroking his cock.

"Since I was five. My mom left us. But Daddy needed a woman. He made me one. Every day. Every night. Since I was five," she told him. It was more complicated than that. It hadn't been instant. But the old man who stank of sour beer and stale cigarettes didn't need to know that. He reminded her of her dad, and that was all that mattered.

"Mmm, you fucking filthy slut," the stranger said. When he grabbed her head again, he violently shoved his cock in her throat. It was like she had given him permission by admitting that to treat her like trash, and he did. He fucked her throat. When she tried to pull back to breathe, he punched the back of her head, making her dizzy. Finally, he shoved her back so hard she slid off the toilet and onto the piss-stained floor. He grabbed her head and pulled back his fist, screaming at her.

"Tell me, whore, how many times have you been raped? I mean, really raped? And how often do you touch yourself to it?" She flinched, overwhelmed at the moment, trying to protect her face.

"S... seven times. If you mean more than I could take. Seven. I... I masturbate to them all the time. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she cried, not knowing what he wanted from her. She wanted to be used but was scared of being beaten. She'd lost jobs and boyfriends, both from those in the past.

"No," the man said, leaning over her. "You've been raped eight times."

In the bar, the music played, and if anyone heard screams or sobs in the men's bathroom, they ignored them. Eventually, a man left, and more men went in. Men went in all night, but the woman didn't leave until the next day. She'd lose her current job after missing work for a week. Her boyfriend would leave her when he found out that she was pregnant and had an STI.

And the woman? She'd be back again after her abortion. The same man would take her to the toilets again, ask for more stories, and give her new ones to tell. As would many, many others.

Chapter 3: Nighttime visits

Summary:

A young girl fears the footsteps approaching her bedroom door and what it means.

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NIGHTTIME VISITS

She heard the footsteps first. They were heavy and irregular; sometimes, a foot dragged but steadily increased in sound as they approached her room. Daddy had gone out drinking again after fighting with her mom. She'd left, not wanting to deal with him when he got home. But Mom hadn't taken her. She never did. Mom always left her there as an offering to him. Then she would come home a day later and joke about how clumsy her daughter was, falling down the "stairs" again.

She thought about hiding as her father neared the door. Her heart raced, and she wanted to be anywhere but in bed. But that only made it worse—it only made him angrier. She knew what was safest. She knew what was best.

The door was unlocked, but her father kicked it open anyway, and it slammed into the wall, denting it more than it already was. The sound made her scream, a mistake.

"You want to scream?" her father slurred. "I'll give you something to scream about!"

And he did. He was on his child in a second, slapping her at her, making the room spin. He choked her, and it almost became a strangulation as her face turned darker and darker shades of purple. Finally, he punched his nearly limp girl several times in the face until her nose and lips were bloody. Shaking, standing over the whimpering child, he pulled her to the edge of the bed, parted her legs, and defiled her little body. When he left, white dripped between her thighs onto the floor. Just another Friday, an ordinary, typical Friday for his daughter.

Chapter 4: Polaroid

Summary:

A man goes through the diary of a girl he'd just murdered and raped.

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POLAROID

I finished going through her diary, smiling down at her as she stared back at me. Timmy huh? That was her crush. I took some photos with the Polaroid I'd brought. He'd probably appreciate seeing and knowing what she looked like naked. He wouldn't get to have any fun with her, though. I'd seen to that, taking every cherry she had to offer while alive and dead. She didn't complain; well, after a while, she didn't. They're all quiet in the end.

Chapter 5: Daddy's Little Girl

Summary:

A daughter moves to a new city with her father as they plan to continue their family tradition.

DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL

There was nothing better than being Daddy's little girl. She should know, at twenty, she'd been his little girl for half of his life. And now that he had moved to a new city, she could join him and be his openly. Only they knew the truth, that she wasn't his improperly young girlfriend, but his most intimate lover and daughter. She'd do anything for her Daddy. Anything. Of course, she would. She'd been doing it most of her life, and well, she agreed that some family traditions needed to be continued.

Chapter 6: She should have been more careful

Summary:

A man chats with a niave girl, before taking her away forever.

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SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE CAREFUL

She never suspected it. Of course, she didn't, despite all my probing questions and all the sneaking around she did to chat with me online. Why didn't she see the warning signs? Why didn't she didn't mention the things I had her do on webcam to a friend? The pictures she sent me were always by email, so the metadata wasn't stripped from it. All I had to tell her was that I loved her and she was mine. She was so attention-starved, so hungry for the validation and approval that she was always denied. And now, her parents and family cried on the TV, begging for any leads.

Of course, we were multiple states away, and she would never be found. She was mine now, living in my basement, where she would stay until she had given me a replacement or two. Forever mine, for the rest of her life. All because she wasn't careful. And that was the beautiful thing about it all. They never were.

Chapter 7: An uncle's love

Summary:

An uncle expresses his true love of his niece.

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AN UNCLE'S LOVE

He parted her long hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ears. Her small, delicate features enraptured him so, as she wriggled on his lap. Some part of her knew what she was doing. She had always craved his attention and he had always been happy to lavish her with all that he could. The thin fabric of her shorts did little to hide the bulge fighting against his jeans. He wrapped his hands around her slim waist and pulled her closer to him. As her parents left the room to check on the food, he smiled and snuck a kiss on her soft lips. She always giggled when he did that. And she always would sneak one back, but only when her parents weren't in the room. Yes, she knew exactly what was going on. As they returned, she grew antsy on his lap, constantly fidgeting as they watched TV. To the rest in the room, she was just a bored little kid, unable to keep still. To the two of them, it was so much more. He would tuck her to sleep that night, and then ask his brother if she could spend the night next weekend so they could go shopping. He didn't mean what would eventually happen, but his brother telling him yes would change their lives, and loves, forever.

Chapter 8: A painful divorce

Summary:

A woman laments her divorce, unable to understand why her daughters wanted to stay with their father despite him clearly cheating on her.

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A PAINFUL DIVORCE

When Sheila decided to divorce her husband of twenty years, she had a roadmap of how things would turn out built in her mind. She knew her husband had been cheating on her. It was apparent, even if the private eye she had hired had found nothing. His clothes often stunk of sex despite the fact that they hadn't had any for years. Sometimes, she found occasional lipstick smears on his clothes. Of course, the bastard had denied it all. He said she was paranoid. That it was all in her head. Eventually, she'd had enough of his gaslighting and had ended it all.

What she hadn't expected or even dreamed of was that her daughters would choose him over her. It hurt her so much. They acted like she was the crazy one. Like she was the unreasonable one. It was a betrayal that she had never, ever considered, and it had shattered her to the core. Despite that, she decided to go through with the divorce. In the end, she didn't even get partial custody of them. Because of her two daughters' testimony, it wasn't even a contest. They said their mom was paranoid, dreaming up women that didn't exist, and that their dad was perfect and treated them with more love than their mom ever had. 

Defeated, she had left the courthouse and their lives forever. She only took solace in the fact that one day, they'd catch their dad with the woman or women he was cheating on her with. He was fucking someone, right? He had to be. She got in the car and cried, hoping secretly that her children would be as miserable with their father as she had been.

They weren't and never would be.

Chapter 9: The very definition of love

Summary:

A woman explains what cum means to her.

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THE VERY DEFINITION OF LOVE

So few people would ever understand it. Why she wanted it, why she craved it. Some would foolishly call her a cumslut, or thought it was nothing more than a kink of hers. They couldn't have been more wrong. She knew there were so many ways to be shown love. She'd known that since she was just eleven years old. But of all those ways, one stood out to her above all the others.

It wasn't about the taste, though she had no issues with it. It wasn't about some humiliation fetish or degradation kink. No, to her, the white stuff was something special. It was literal proof that she was loved.

Men's words could be lies. Her mind told her that, and she knew it lied to her all the time. Words meant nothing. They could be nice or mean, but there was no substance to them. They were just pretty ethereal vapors that disappeared when you tried to hold onto them.

Cum never lied. It was always honest. It was spent validation written onto her and her pictures in creamy white. When she saw it and felt it splash upon her skin, she knew they had been thinking of her. She knew that she had been responsible for that. And she knew, deep in her bones, that at least briefly, they had loved and only thought of her.

That's why she wanted it. Why she craved the heat on her skin, the texture on her tongue, or even the image of it splattered upon her photographs. Because then she had proof that she was a good girl. Then, she had proof that she was loved. She could drown in that love, and a part of her almost hoped she would.

Chapter 10: Of course not

Summary:

A girl hopes that letting men use her finally makes her good enough despite, deep down, knowing the answer.

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OF COURSE NOT

"Am I good enough?"

She knew the answer before the thought had finished running through her mind. Of course not. No matter how much she tried, she was never good enough. No matter what she did for the stream of men in her life, none of them liked her. Not really.

Oh, they loved her holes. They loved fucking her. They loved abusing her and making her cry. But once they had nutted in her, they left. They always left. Her father had left her after teaching her that she was nothing but a cunt. The same was true with her first boyfriend, who she did anything to keep happy. Before getting bored with her, he'd shared her with a dozen men, all easily twice her age.

It was a neverending war for approval. She slept with dozens of men, eventually hundreds. She did anything they wanted. She was their toilet. She was their punching bag. She was their cum dumpster again and again. Not one of them cared for her. None of them loved her. She was only a cunt, she would only ever be a cunt, and cunts can never be good enough.

They were just holes. She was just a hole. Nothing more.

Chapter 11: Hatred

Summary:

A girl thinks about all the things and people she hates and why.

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HATRED

She hated sex. She hated him. She hated her room. She hated her mom. But most of all, she hated herself. She hated sex because it hurt. It always fucking hurt. He went out of the way to make sure it hurt. Never once did he try to even make her enjoy it. That wasn't the fun he wanted. He wanted to hear her sobs. To listen to her pained grunts. To make her walk funny and mock her for it. That's why she fucking hated sex.

She hated him because, before him, her life was good. Oh, she was poor trailer trash, but life wasn't bad. School was ok. She didn't fear coming home. She didn't wet herself when she heard heavy footfalls coming down the hall towards her door. She didn't take quick showers in terror of him walking in. She went around her trailer dressed however she wanted, without worrying what she might "encourage." He had stolen all that from her, and that's why she hated him.

She hated her room because it didn't smell like her anymore. It only held either the cloying stink of sweaty, guilty sex or the putrid aroma of an air freshener failing to erase the scents left behind. It was always filthy now, filled with used condoms in the trash. She often found her drawers open and the clothes within stained forever. Even the lock was gone. No privacy remained. It wasn't her room anymore. It was his, and that's why she hated it.

Her mom had caused it all. She'd always had shitty taste in men. She had often brought home random strangers to entertain. Most of those men had lusted after her. Some had groped at her body, playfully sometimes, sometimes not. A few had even taken her. The first was when she was but eight years old with their fingers. Another at ten had taken her with his cock. She'd even briefly crushed on one when she was twelve until her mom had grown jealous. But her stepfather? He was the first man her mom ever stayed with. The first one she never left. She hated her mom for looking the other way. She hated her for putting her in that position. God, how she hated her fucking mom.

But not as much as she hated herself. She hated not how her heart raced when he went by her, but the sudden wetness between her leg. She hated the orgasms that her pathetic body gave him. She hated that her dreams were filled with him. She hated that he was her first thought in the morning and often the last before she went to bed. She hated that she didn't hate him enough. She hated herself for not running away. She hated herself for not fighting. But most of all, she hated that she could no longer cum using her vibrator alone. That now she had to hurt herself to cum. And even that was barely an orgasm at all. No, she hated herself for needing him to cum. She hated that she was becoming her mother. She hated that she would never be more than trailer trash. 

And most of all, she hated that she was now pregnant at seventeen.

Chapter 12: Frozen

Summary:

A woman freezes up when she is groped and later abused.

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FROZEN

I felt the hand on my ass as I stood in line. The hand acted like an old lover, gently carassessing my cheeks through the jeans. The only issue was that I had come to the amusement park alone. No one here should know me well enough to just casually grope my ass. I realized I had tensed up and not moved or responded for several seconds. My past involved an uncle who had done more than he should have done with me, which often happened with men. I panicked. I froze. I was suddenly a little girl, just five years old, again, as a trusted family member worked his fingers in my cunny and ass.

When I started to move, I felt a face press beside mine. The skin was wrinkled, and the rough stubble burned my cheek. Warm air that stank of cigars brushed my ear as a much older voice whispered to me. I had frozen again, unable to even look at the man openly groping my ass.

"Don't turn your head. Just walk ahead. Get out of the line and move towards the bathroom that's closed to your right," the stranger told me. His grip tightened on my ass as he pushed me forward, and I numbly went along. I should have turned. I should have screamed at him or for help. But I was that tiny, fragile girl again and had no power. I blushed as wetness ran down my leg, peeing myself. I heard him chuckle at the rush of water as he told me to open the door. I figured it would be locked, but it opened easily. Strangely, the room looked and smelled clean. I heard the click of the door locking, then his hands were on my ass again.

"I always can tell who will freeze and who will not," he said. He was behind me, reaching around to unzip my pants before tugging them down. "How old were you?"

"Five," I meekly muttered as I felt calloused hands caress my panties before tearing them off me. I heard him push them into his pockets, then felt his warm hands on my skin. He sniffed my hair, then reached around to grope my chest. I couldn't move, paralyzed by my past, as he pulled my tits out of my bra and squeezed my nipples painfully.

"You never told anyone, did you?" he asked. Without waiting for my answer, he continued. "When did it stop?" When he asked that, his right hand returned to my ass, then his fingers probed between my cheeks. I grunted in pain, stumbling forward until my hands were on the wall, holding me up while I stood on my tiptoes in a sad attempt to escape his exploration of me.

"I... I was thirteen. He... he just stopped," I said as a tear ran down my face. The finger in my ass was joined by a second, then a third, thrusting painfully as I sobbed quietly in the bathroom.

"You got old. Cunts always do," he said, then I heard him unzip. I should have moved. I should have ran. Instead, I tensed up and waited for it. If he would have pushed against my pussy, he would have found it wet. But whoever this man was, he didn't want that. Instead, he gripped my hips, lined up his cock, and shoved it slowly up my ass. My sobs became outright cries as he fucked my rear with no lube or preparation. Because of my tightness, he didn't last long before filling my bowels with his cum. He pressed me tight against the wall, shuddered twice, and then, I would later learn, cleaned himself off with my panties. He shoved them up my ass to hold in his cum, and was gone in moments, leaving me alone.

I eventually left the bathroom and the park, going on no rides that day or ever again. I went home alone, humiliated, once again broken, while memories of my uncle danced in my head.

Chapter 13: Just trash

Summary:

A young girl is raped and dumped in the trash.

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JUST TRASH

They found her there in the morning, tossed among the garbage. She was 13 years old and had been missing for two days. Her memories were vague, jumbled up, and completely useless when they questioned her. The track marks in her arms let them know they'd kept her high the entire time. It was impossible to know how many assailants there had been, but it had been over two dozen at a minimum. There were so many samples that the cops decided that other men must have raped her after she had been dumped there, no longer wanted.

Of course, they provided the best mental health support services that public money could provide. She wasn't allowed to abort the baby they had left her with due to newly enacted state laws. Her parents were embarrassed by the attention, and the girl withdrew from everyone around her. She didn't remember everything that happened, but she remembered enough. When she closed her eyes, she could see the stream of men laughing as they raped her. In her dreams, new snippets of terror and abuse would come to light.

Above all, the one thing she couldn't shake was where they had left her. It wasn't enough that they had beaten and raped her. It wasn't enough that they had doped her up with drugs. It wasn't enough that they had stolen her innocence and made her a mother. No. They had to go and toss her by the dumpsters. They had to make sure she knew what they thought of her. The media reported her as the "Dumpster girl." Everyone knew who she was. What had been done to her. And eventually, a video of her rapes got leaked on the internet. Someone even sent her a copy.

She watched her defilement again and again as her belly swelled. No one looked at her the same anymore. She didn't trust any kindness, any glance her way, paranoid that everyone knew what she really was—who she really was—and what they had made of her.

Just trash.

Chapter 14: They told her so

Summary:

A broken woman believes she wants the sexual abuse heaped upon her.

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THEY TOLD HER SO

It was true, she thought to herself as she sobbed on the toilet, wiping her tears away. It was fucking true. It had been true when her stepdaddy had raped and molested her. It had been true at that high school party where they had run a train on her passed-out body. It was true when every boyfriend and date had hurt and abused her. She deserved it. She wanted it. It was as clear as fucking day to every man. They told her so.

It's why she was drawn to men like her daddy. Men that treated her like shit. Men who never kissed her, called her "sweetie," or asked for second dates. No, the men she got were the kind that slapped her when she talked too much, got her drunk, shared her with their friends, and always called her a "stupid cunt." They sniffed her out, she sought them out, whatever, the result was always the same. Sitting on a toilet, cum dripping out of her holes as she cried hysterically.

She could have said she hated it, and she did. She could have said that she wished they were gentle with her, told her they liked her (the thought of being truly loved was beyond her comprehension), and that they enjoyed spending time with her. She could have said that, but it would have been a lie. They told her that was a lie. Again and again, the men told her that she clearly wanted this. And always, for proof, they'd point to her wet cunt, their sticky fingers covered in her juices, or the soaked panties between her legs. That was all the proof they needed. It justified everything they did. Clearly, she wanted it. A victim wouldn't cum like she did. Victims didn't squirt all over the floor as they screamed and sobbed hysterically. 

It's what every man told her. And when she tried to tell them otherwise, they corrected her. They would point to the truth between her legs. They made sure she never lied to them or to herself. She deserved everything they did to her. She wanted it. And eventually, that was true. Because when a man who sincerely loved her came her way, she fled from him, back to the men who hurt her. They were her home. They were where she belonged. The only thing she wanted was the way they made her feel. Anything else was a lie. 

She knew that. 

They told her so.

 

Chapter 15: I would

Summary:

A young woman talks to the type of man she grew up with about all the things she would like to do and has done.

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I WOULD

Hiya Mister. Do you like being called Mister? Or do you like other names, like Daddy? You? I bet you like Daddy. Most men like Daddy. I bet you wish you would have been my Daddy. Would you have done the same things that my Daddy did to me? Yeah, I know you would have. Would you have been a nice Daddy, though, giving me all kinds of treats or a mean one? It's ok either way. I've had both. I think you can tell that, though.

My age, Daddy? Do you really want to know? The first number isn't a 2. Not yet, anyway. But you don't really want to know. That's boring. You want to imagine. Yeah, you like how my hair is in pigtails? Cute, isn't it, Daddy? And the braces? I don't even need them. I just don't want them removed. It helps keep things magical, doesn't it Daddy? 

My clothes? They're the same clothes I used to wear with those bad men. Those bad daddies. If you look closely, you can see all the stains. Yes, some of that is my blood. I told you, I've had mean Dads too. Most of it is cummies, though. Lots and lots of cummies. Cummies are the best, don't you agree? How else do I know I've been a good girl unless I get your cummies all over me?

The first time? Oh, Daddy, that's a silly question. I don't remember that far back. No one does. But from the start. I've always been loved by Daddies and Uncies and their friends. It's why I'm such a good girl. It's why I still talk cute and little. It's why I still dress this way. Oh, you want to see it? My cunny? See, it's waxed all the time and baby smooth. Hair is ugly fugly, isn't it Daddy? Good girls should never, ever have hair.

I know I'm not as cute or tiny as I used to be. But that's ok. We can still play and pretend, and I can tell you real stories that aren't make-believe. And maybe... do you really need that condom, Daddy? Wouldn't it be something special if I got pregnant? Would you like that, Daddy? Then your little girl could give you a real little girl. We could raise her together and be a proper family. Would you like that, Daddy?

I would.

Chapter 16: Breastfeeding time

Summary:

A mother calls her husband into the bedroom to help prepare her for breastfeeding their children.

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BREASTFEEDING TIME

"Honey, it's time!" Michelle yelled as she slowly stripped on the bed. It was time to feed the babies once again. "Honey! Are you coming?" she cried once again.

"Not yet," her husband, Anthony, said with a wink as he entered the room. "Damn, you're wearing me out with all this feeding." Despite saying that, he had a massive smirk on his face.

"You're the one who wanted this, remember? To, what did you call it, bond? You just want to do what my dad used to do me, you sick pervert," Michelle said with a laugh. Now completely nude, she reached out to massage her husband's groin as he stripped out of the clothes.

"Don't you fucking doubt it either," he told her, his eyes wild with desire. "Tell me about it while you stroke me like a good girl. Like our good little girls will someday," Anthony ordered her. The demand was unneeded, however, as she willingly started jerking his cock against her meaty tits.

"Oh, you want to hear about how Daddy fucked me almost every day. First, he trained my ass, so he could go deep in me. Then my cunny. He always finished in my cunny or my mouth. He called that "giving me my vitamins" to help me grow big and strong. He was the only thing in the world that mattered to me until you came along and stole me away from him. He still fucks me, though, you know. When he visits, and you're not here. He treats me like a cunt, though, now. I'm no longer his little girl." Anthony moaned harder, shuddering. He knew all of that, of course. They were close and told each other everything; he had even given her his blessing. No matter her age, a daughter should always love her Daddy.

"Mmmm, fuck yes, stroke faster, grip that cock tight. Like it was your cunny. Or our twin's asses. Fuck yes, yes, yes...," Anthony grunted as he shot load after load on his wife's tits. She smeared his cock and cum around, coating her areola and nipples, making sure there would be plenty of creamy goodness for her children.

"Wanna watch?" she said as she got up. Her husband quickly followed her into the baby's room.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Chapter 17: So, you like them young?

Summary:

A woman asks her boyfriend a very dangerous question as she jerks him off.

SO, YOU LIKE THEM YOUNG?

"So, you like them young?" I asked.

I knew the answer before I'd even said it to him. I had a type, and he fit the mark well. Older. Great shape. Sometimes demanding and in control. But weak, in certain ways, at the same time. I saw how his eyes wandered. Of course, all men's eyes wander. All girls learn that at some point. Most men learn to be discrete about it, some never do, and some just leer obscenely. But it wasn't the fact that his eyes wandered that piqued my interest. It was to who they wandered to.

I knew I was getting older. It happens to all of us. That didn't mean that I wasn't good-looking. Quite the contrary, despite the miles on me, I was still sharp and very attractive. Even more so, I was a lioness in bed and did things that most "decent" women would never do. I learned early on how to please a man and take great pride in it. But, still, it hurt a bit when the men I dated started glancing at younger women. At the slutty teens and college girls. I accepted it. I was them once.

What I didn't expect was how obvious some men were about looking at my daughter. I first noticed it at the park when she was six. I didn't think much of it; just a random pedophile. I didn't hold any ill will towards him but kept a watchful eye. I had been loved very early, so I understood the attraction. However, as my daughter grew older, I noticed it more and more. By the time she was eight, it was constant. And unlike with the other girls and young women, it didn't make me jealous. Instead, I felt pride that men wanted my little angel. 

I started dressing her in cuter clothes. Sexier clothes. She loved it, and I loved the attention she got. Yes, other moms frowned, but I didn't care about them. I was too busy getting wet and horny, watching old men lust after my child. That was as far as I had planned to take it. I told myself that again and again. I told myself "no more" after every guilty masturbation session where I fantasized about letting men fuck my daughter. In the end, he was what pushed me over the edge.

He looked so guilty when he glanced at my daughter at the park. Handsome, older, though not old. I could tell by the tightness of his pants he was having uncomfortable thoughts. I chatted with him. We shared digits. We went out, had a good time, and fucked like rabbits. But I couldn't help myself. I made sure my little girl wore skimpy clothes around him. I made sure he saw her shower. My little girl had no clumsy prejudices against nudity. She didn't show off for him but didn't hide either. I saw those looks he gave her. He fucked me so hard later that night.

Now, I was jerking him off, just asking him outright. He blushed and started to lie to me. But he saw my eyes, the way I stared into his soul. He saw acceptance there. After an interminable pause, he finally answered.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"As young as my daughter?" I asked him, a lustful smile on my face. He exploded in my hand as soon as the words were out of my mouth. He shook, shuddered, and fell back on the bed. He moaned as I licked his cum off my hand and his cock, then I straddled him, looking down at him.

"Since that's a yes, I have some ideas," I told him. There would be great fun in the future. My daughter was going to learn to be a good girl, and me? I was going to enjoy being a very bad mom.

Chapter 18: Taking a stranger for a "ride"

Summary:

A mom takes care of a bad man watching children in the park.

TAKING A STRANGER FOR A "RIDE"

"Yes, mine's the one over there. In the pink dress and the bandage on her knee," Mary told the stranger in the car as she leaned over and stroked his cock. "You've been careless. I see you driving by every day. Parking off in the distance, but I knew what you were doing. I could tell that you were watching the kiddies and stroking your cock. Such a sick fuck. Are you on the registry?"

"Y... yes...," the man softly grunted as her cool hands firmly gripped his cock and stroked it faster and faster. She loved how his hands gripped parts of his car as she took him for a "ride."

"I thought so. I bet I gave you a fright. Don't worry. I won't be calling any cops. My daddy didn't raise no snitch. Tell me, are you here for the boys or the girls. Or both? They're all so fucking cute," she said to him, squeezing his cock and running her thumb over his leaking precum.

"B... both. But especially the girls. Like yours," the pedophile admitted as the child's mother pumped his cock faster and faster. She looked down at him and could tell that he was about to cum. Mary made sure she took him right up to the edge, then stopped, leaving him hanging. A lifetime of handjobs had given her that skill. To feel those tell-tell pulses that meant a man was about to explode. His eyes looked at her with a mixture of frustration, anger, and humiliation as she pulled her hand out of the car and licked the wetness off her fingers.

"What? Do you think I would jerk you off while you thought about raping my daughter? What a fucking sicko," Mary said, laughing. As she started to walk off, she spoke once more. "She is due for a diaper change. Be a shame if I forgot to lock the bathroom door while I'm changing her." She didn't even turn to see if he was following her. He would. They always did. She picked up her little girl, kissed her nose, and took her to the bathroom, where, as promised, she forgot to lock the door.

Chapter 19: My daughter, on the other hand...

Summary:

A wife's rejection of anal leads a father to a very perverse place.

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MY DAUGHTER, ON THE OTHER HAND...

She'd always hated it. No matter how gentle I was or how much lube I used, she didn't like it. She told me it was disgusting, unnatural, and just dirty. Eventually, I stopped asking her for it. I knew what the answer would be, and I would just feel like crap afterward. Instead, I would jerk off in the study while watching porn. It was my release, my reward, at the end of a stressful day. My sex life with my wife might have been pathetic, but at least I was still getting off, even if it was to videos of sluts taking it up the ass.

What I hadn't expected was to be caught with my daughter. She was a good girl, a brilliant girl, even when she was very young and was insatiably curious. So when she saw me stroking my cock, and what it was that I was watching, she started asking questions. I should have turned her away. I should have shut the door and locked the room. I didn't do any of that. Instead, I answered everything she asked. And then, I showed her.

It was the start of an adventure for us. A journey that's lasted over half her life now. So yeah, it doesn't matter that my wife hates anal. Because my daughter loves it. We don't have to worry about birth control, and she gets soaked as I ream that tight seventeen-year-old ass. Still tight after almost a decade of fucking. It's our little secret. Our private little fun time in the study. Only now, we make sure to always lock the door. 

Chapter 20: Just a hole for her mother to share

Summary:

A teen girl suffers as her mom shares her with her many boyfriends and clients.

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JUST A HOLE FOR HER MOTHER TO SHARE

She often wondered if her mom even loved her anymore. Had she ever? Abigail didn't know anymore. She whimpered as her mom held her naked hips and spread her ass for her latest boyfriend. They seemed to be the only people that mattered anymore. They got whatever they wanted, and her own daughter just got scraps, if anything at all, besides a sore body. She only got new clothes when one of her mom's men went through the revolving door, which was their home, and bought her something to wear. Her drawers were full of thongs, crotchless panties, lingerie, micro skirts, crop tops, and slutty dresses. The only school clothes she had were ratty and full of holes.

The only time her mom talked to her was to tell her how to behave around the latest man in her life. There were no sincere questions about her day or what she wanted to do for the weekend. No. Nothing like that. Just orders. Be nude. Stay in your room. Take a shower with the door open. She couldn't even lock the door to her room anymore. She often went to school bruised, her crotch aching from the nighttime visitor's mom had let in. Some of them were actually dating her. But she knew most of them had paid to be there. She knew her mom was whoring her fifteen-year-old body. One had even been a former teacher of hers. She'd cried when he'd seen her naked on her bed. He made sure she'd cried even more after that.

And now, her latest boyfriend was shoving his massive cock up her ass. It hurt terribly, and she screamed, but her mother held her down. She felt her mother's hands grip her waist harder, impaling her ass on his cock. She sobbed as her mom raised up to make out with her boyfriend while he drilled Abigail's tender ass, stretching and banging the shit out of it. Her fingers clenched her defiled bed until she felt his spunk filling her. When he pulled out, he wiped his cock clean on her blankets, and her mother left with him. Cool air wafted across her gaped, damaged ass, and she wept, reaching down between her legs. Only alone, finally alone, did she touch the wetness there. Crying to herself, she finger fucked her wet cunny. She wasn't allowed to call it anything else, even in her mind. She shuddered, naked, on her ruined sheets as she came and then cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 21: Go slow

Summary:

A young girl gets drunk with her stepfather, and he crosses a line with her.

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GO SLOW

"Go slow, little one," Amanda's stepfather told her. Her hand hesitantly reached out to his cock, which felt so hard and hot in her hands. Her head was swimming from the drinks they had had earlier. Her mom was gone to a conference this weekend, and he had been watching her the whole weekend. He usually ignored her, but lately, since she'd hit puberty, he'd been closer and more doting than he'd ever been. He'd asked her about school, played games with her, and would even sit down and watch her favorite shows with her. It had been as if a missing part of her life had been found, and she'd been loving the constant attention.

So, earlier in the afternoon, she'd said yes when he'd offered her her first beer. She felt so grown up and mature, and though she hated the taste of the beer, she accepted a second and even a third from him. Amanda didn't want him to be disappointed in her. Now that he was becoming so active in her life, she didn't want him to disappear like her real dad had. She couldn't go through that again.

That was how, just a little bit later, cuddling against her stepfather, he'd started stroking her hair. Massaging her back. How he'd tilted her head up towards her and told her that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. When he kissed her, she melted against him. She'd kissed a couple boys before, but not like this. When his tongue had invaded her thirteen-year-old mouth, she'd felt things she never had before. Wet, anxious, and desperate for his approval, she had returned his kiss and more. She moaned as his hands slid under her shirt to grope her small, budding breasts. She arched her back and moaned as he pinched her nipples. And when he pulled his cock free, she did exactly as he said.

Slowly pumping it up and down while leaning forward and kissing her stepfather. Soon, she knew, it would be inside her. She wanted him to fuck her, she thought drunkenly. She was in love with him. No man had ever paid attention to her like him before. She didn't know if any man ever would again. So, when her stepfather gently pushed on her head, she didn't resist. She opened her young mouth and took him in. In her young mind, this was love, and she desperately wanted to be loved. And she would be loved so very, very much by him.

Chapter 22: How many times?

Summary:

A young girl marks her bedpost every time she is taken and abused.

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HOW MANY TIMES?

Her hands shook as she scratched another notch into the cheap wood of her bedpost, stinking of sweat and sex, while cum leaked out of her teen holes. She didn't know why she did it. The marks tormented her. It was probably better than cutting herself, she thought, as that would have brought more unwanted attention. She wasn't even sure what she was recording anymore.

First, it had been the number of his unasked-for "nighttime visits" where he would "put her to bed." That's what he called it. Putting her to bed. That's the cute euphemism he used to justify defiling her body whenever he wanted. Stealing her innocence. Raping her young body and teaching her without saying it that to him, she was just a set of holes. She wasn't his daughter, she was his fucktoy. Nothing more. So much less.

Then, it was the number of loads he left inside her body or on it. Down her throat. On her face. On her tits. Rubbed into her belly. Up her cunt. She didn't have a vagina. She didn't even have a pussy. It was a cunny or a cunt. So many loads there that she was shocked she wasn't pregnant yet. He laughed all the time about what would happen then. Even up her ass. No. It was her shit pipe. A mark for every one of them, defiling and ruining her a bit more forever.

Next came his friends. A mark for each new man let into their house, into her fucking bedroom, to do whatever they wanted with her. Some of them were "nice," tried to make her cum, kissed her, and went slow. None of them chose not to rape her, however. Most just used her to get off, slamming again and again until they had cum deep in her. And a few made sure she missed the rest of the school week because she had tripped and fallen down the stairs. Etched onto the wood like their abuse of her was etched into her mind.

Last came the marks she hated the most. The sickest, most fucked up ones that she almost scarred her body with instead. A mark for every time she came. A slash for every orgasm she gave them. Every time her body squirted, shuddered, or convulsed. It was almost always greeted by laughter. Mocking her and justifying every action they'd taken. The worst thing was that the marks were growing faster and faster. And more and more of them were coming from her. She hated that. She hated that she got wet now when she heard their footsteps. She hated that she got wet when they slapped and choked her. And worst of all...

She hated that she never wanted it to end.

Chapter 23: I didn't know and I didn't care

Summary:

A man pays for an old whore and her daughter, using the latter hard.

I DIDN'T KNOW AND I DIDN'T CARE

I fucking love old cunts and whores with daughters. Life had burned through them, put them through the meat grinder, often since they were children, and given the chance to improve their children's lives, they usually don't. Instead, they make them grow up just like they did, with a stream of strangers paying for their tiny holes as they are growing up. And the best part? The fucking best part? They don't even feel guilty about it.

Take this cunt I paid for. Older bitch, not street-level trash but quality meat. She knew what I was fishing around for. It's what she's known for. She's almost always a combo deal. I guess some guys who like older women would pay just for her, but not most. No. Most pay to get access to her "daughter." I say it that way because, let's be honest, who the fuck knows. Maybe it's actually runaway garbage that she took in. Perhaps she's actually an adult who just looks young. That's rare, though; the grinder ages those cunts hard. Me, I just accept the fantasy. That it's her own flesh and blood that she's selling along with herself. And I'm supposed to be the depraved one?

Anyway, I asked her what her "daughter's" age was. The old bitch had just smiled and said, "Do you really want to know?". I didn't, of course. I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I didn't care. It was better to imagine it in my head since anything the whores said was probably lies. The "daughter" looked anywhere from fourteen to twenty. I simply chose to pretend the little bitch was a high-mileage fifteen-year-old prostitute, which was as likely as anything. I fucked her like the cheapest street meat possible as well. The older cunt approved. She did a convincing job of being turned on, fingering herself, and playing with her tits as I abused her little slut girl. It might have even been real. The room smelled of her wet cunt, at least. 

When I was done with her "daughter," the poor thing just curled up and cried. She should have been used to that shit by now, but maybe she was on the fresher side of things. I didn't care. I threw her "mom" an extra hundred, and she pissed on the girl's head, making her sob even more. It was delicious, and I even fucked the old cunt some too. It was a good time. And you know what?

I think that "daughter" of her will be just like her mom one day. I hope she will be. And then, maybe one day, I'll fuck her daughter as well. And as for her daughter's age? I won't know, and I won't fucking care.

Chapter 24: Daddy's Touch

Summary:

A young girl thinks about how much she loves her father's touch.

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DADDY'S TOUCH

There's no touch quite like it. And why should there be? He's held and caressed me my entire life. There wasn't ever a moment in which we weren't bonding in some intimate way. I know some people will be aghast. They'll say he raped or molested me. That he groomed me, and I didn't know better. Fuck that noise. It was love. It has always been love. It will always be love. I know no one will ever love me like my father.

He fed me his cum as an infant. Either coated on my mother's teats or squirted into my milk bottle. White, creamy love smeared on my infant lips. Even then, his fingers wandered. Not roughly invading my body. He's never done that. Instead, he taught me the joys of massages when I was one year old. Whenever I was in his arms, he would stroke my face, kiss my cheeks and lips, massage my back, caress my nipples, and stroke the slit between my legs. 

Of course, my Daddy eventually did more than that. He trained every part of my body. But always gently. Always with love. I love my mom, but he's my rock. My world. My everything. He's been my lover since I was three years old. He'll be my lover when I'm fifty. Every inch of my body has been kissed by him. Every hole of mine has been claimed. I've swallowed the proof of his love more times than anyone could count. It's warmed my bowels and my cunny hundreds of times. It's his gift to me. 

I know in the future, I'll be with other men. I know in the future, I'll fuck and play with others. But I also know deep down that no one will ever love me like my Daddy. And no man will ever match my Daddy's touch.

Chapter 25: I remember

Summary:

A girl recounts how she lost her innocence.

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I REMEMBER

Of course, I do. How could I forget that year? I had turned ten. I was growing out my blonde hair past my shoulders. I was just on the cusp of early puberty as my body began to change in ways I didn't understand. I was taller than most in my classes, and I noticed that men were looking at me. It didn't feel dirty. For the first time, I felt that I was no longer a child but becoming a woman. I wore earrings regularly and even started wearing lipstick, though my mom wouldn't let me pick any bright or bold colors.

How could I forget that month? It was June, and Mom had finally gotten tired of Dad's constant drinking. She was fed up and wanted a divorce. She just got up and left one night. Didn't even leave a note for me. No nice words saying she would be back for me once she got back on her feet. It was the end of school, and I was now home with Dad every day. Mom had been the one to ferry me to my friends, so now I was almost always at home. I was abandoned. I had never felt so alone.

How could I forget that week? It was the second week of June, and Dad had just lost another job. He was surly, often drunk, and quick to anger. Anything I did could set him off, resulting in a slap to my face or him screaming at me. I hid in my room, and when I couldn't, I made sure to be quiet around him, just playing with my Barbie dolls while he watched the only TV in the house. I didn't have a phone to chat with my friends. When he asked for beer or food, I got it for him, always tense, ready for the next explosion.

How could I forget that day? It was Friday, and Mom had called earlier in the day. She was moving back to her home state. She told us she didn't want to see either of us again. That we shouldn't try to contact her. I got a black eye for crying after I heard that because "I wouldn't shut up." I hid in my room while Dad paced the hall, flexing his fists until he finally punched a hole in the wall. Eventually, it grew late, and I got in the shower. As I was getting out, he came in to use the bathroom. It wasn't for long, but he saw me fully nude before I could grab the towel. He looked at me strangely, like he'd never seen me before. Then he left, shutting the door and giving me privacy. I finished drying off and went to bed.

How could I forget that time? It was 9:47 PM on my clock, red LEDs staring at me, when my door swung open. I smelled him as he approached. He was drunk and had spilled beer on himself, likely as he fell asleep with one in his hand. He was looking at me again. That new look like he'd just discovered something. He grabbed my Barbie, fidgeting with it, before pulling my blanket off my bed. He roughly pulled off my gown, and I lay there, frozen, as he dragged the doll against my virgin sex. He said I was the woman of the house now. That I had "duties." 9:50 PM was when my innocence was lost, along with my virginity. 

Cutting myself, losing my decency, my humanity, my self-worth? That all came later. But my innocence? Losing that, I'll never forget. 

Chapter 26: Discarded

Summary:

Everyone throughout her life has tossed her aside.

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DISCARDED

It had been that way her entire life, to be honest. She had first been discarded by her birth mom, some unknown teen runaway, oh so many years ago. She would have been a burden to the young mother. She would have been in the way. A hinderance. Something weighing her down. Always attached to the hip and her mother clearly hadn't wanted that. So her mom had left her at the hospital, leaving her behind, only the first of many who would follow.

Every foster family did the same to her. She was passed around from family to family and often bed to bed, always more trouble than she was worth. When one father raped her repeatedly, the foster mom didn't blame him. Clearly, it was her fault. She was what was wrong. So they tossed her away, her innocence stolen forever. When another foster parent's real child stole from them, who got the blame? She did, of course. She was the outsider. The stranger. The "it" in the home. So they got rid of her. No one adopted her. But many of the boys and men in the homes taught her what she was wanted for. What her sole asset was. She remembered that lesson every time she was discarded or removed.

Finally, at eighteen and on her own, she was free. Free to find someone who would love her. Someplace that could be her home. Some purpose in her life. She barely found one of those. She dated often, but a lifetime of abuse had taught her how to please men, not relate to them. Not how to be a partner. She was only a side chick or fuck buddy at best, time and time again seeing men she loved leave her for women that could give them what she couldn't. True companionship. Unable to pay her rent one month, she offered herself to the landlord. Then she started offering herself more and more, this time on the street. Every man discarded her, but at least she was fifty or a hundred bucks richer for it.

That's how she ended here. Among the trash. Used up. Broken. No one would find her for days. No one would notice she was gone. No one would ever miss her or think of her fondly. She had been born only to be discarded. It was her sole purpose in life. And now, truly useless, she was tossed aside a final time.

Unwanted. Always.

Chapter 27: They're tearing her apart

Summary:

A couple watches the destruction of their daughter.

THEY'RE TEARING HER APART

When she'd suggested it, she had been nervous. It was clear he was tired of dealing with his bratty thirteen-year-old daughter, but her proposition had been extreme. But she was tired of the little Instagram bitch, constantly posting her stupid fucking pictures and acting like she was a hot little shit. Her useless mother had died in a car accident, and they'd been saddled with her ever since.

Of course, she knew about her husband's secret kinks. It's why his first wife had left him. Not that he'd done anything himself. No, he just liked to look, and she'd found the secret folder on his computer filled with his weaknesses and compulsions. His ex-wife hadn't told anyone; she just silently separated from him and wouldn't let him see his daughter. She wasn't like that frigid bitch, though. She was a good girl, raised with lots of love, and she understood the needs some men and women had. It was something that they shared together, watching them during private time or even sometimes dressing like one of those girls.

So then, while they watched kiddies play on the TV while the pampered brat slept, she'd suggested that it would be sad if something tragic happened to her. To her surprise, he'd agreed, and they'd set it all in motion. First, she went online, posing as the little brat, going onto every rape and snuff site she could find, talking about her "fantasies." She made sure to be sloppy like a thirteen-year-old, leaving all kinds of details open,  including how she would be all alone on the seventeenth. She enjoyed role-playing with the sickos, encouraging their worst thoughts and feeding them more than enough hints to find their home.

Then, they placed multiple hidden cameras all over the house and left that day to go shopping without their daughter. The crime scene they came home to was wonderfully horrific. DNA from twelve different men was found, and the little cunt had spent hours dying. Eventually, they could return home, where they "grieved" for their lost little daughter by watching the feeds that had recorded everything that happened.

She fingered her sopping cunt and stroked his cock, and he exploded when they watched as his former daughter was torn apart. Their home was theirs again, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter 28: Still

Summary:

A daughter drugs and holds her younger sister still for her father.

STILL

"I'll hold her still this time, Daddy," Sara told her father. Her younger sister was still moving, but barely now. This was their second attempt, but this time, Sara had used sleeping pills.

Sara had been her father's special little girl in every way most of her life. Her first memories were of sucking his dick and him training her holes. She adored him. Worshipped him. And she had seen, as she got older, how he looked longingly at her younger sister more and more. Sara knew he hadn't been greedy. Having already trained her, he left Robin alone to reduce his risk of discovery. But she could see it in his eyes.

The first time, she'd simply lured his father into her sister's bed. She lay down on it and kissed her sister while Daddy spread her legs. Robin had woken up confused and scared, not understanding what was happening. Sara was impressed with the story her father weaved, saying that he and Sara had heard her screaming and found her thrashing on the bed. He'd been trying to hold her down to keep her from hurting herself while Sara "talked" to her. 

Trusting and innocent, she believed their lies, and they'd retreated. Sara hadn't given up, though. She read about bad things online all the time and knew what to do next to make her father happy. This time, multiple sleeping pills knocked her little sister out. Alone in the bedroom with her, she slowly stripped the girl, kissing her soft folds between her legs. Then she yelled for her dad.

"I'll hold her still this time, Daddy," Sara said as he came in, holding her sister ready. Sara loved the smile he gave her as he stripped while she told him what she'd done. The sigh he gave as he slowly sunk inside Robin made everything worth it, and before twenty pumps were done, he'd filled her sister with his love. As he pulled out, Sara slowly sucked her father's cock, savoring the way he twitched and moaned. There would always be things that she could do that Robin couldn't. Once his cock was clean, Sara leaned down and cleaned her sister's cunny while her father filmed it all. Something for the two of them to watch again later. Her sister softly moaned and whimpered, but Robin never woke. 

As they left her sister's room, Sara deeply kissed her father, letting him taste both of his daughters on her lips. He pulled her tightly, then carried her to his bedroom, ready to go again and thank Sara for her gift. While left behind,  little Robin whimpered in her sleep, holding her tender crotch, where she'd be strangely sore tomorrow.

Chapter 29: Shhh...

Summary:

An uncle tells his niece to be quiet as he sneaks into her bed.

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SHHH...

"Shhh... You don't want mommy and daddy to hear you, do you? Can you imagine what they would think of you, seducing your uncle like this?" he asked his niece as she whimpered, naked under him. She was only ten, but already so beautiful. Her skin was so soft as if she bathed in lotion every day. Her puffy teats were already growing into beautiful buds that would become magnificent breasts in just a few more years. Just like her mother. He knew that because he'd played the same games with his sister when she was the same age. And his niece's slit was already wet, just like her mother's had been at the same age. So fresh, so ready, so guilty for how she felt.

"I... I didn't seduce you," she whispered, being quiet. Despite her protests, she honestly didn't want her parents to find them like this. It would be her word against his. They would find her wet. They would smell her sex. They would read her journal like her uncle had about the dreams she'd had about him. She'd never wanted to do them for real. She knew incest was wrong. She didn't want to actually do any of the things she'd thought about. But her uncle had found out. He'd been staying with them since his divorce, and she'd liked watching him swim in their pool. He knew everything and had crawled into her bed, stripped her, and made her feel so good and oh so wrong.

"I'll tell them you did. We both know what's in your journal. I'll say I was weak, and they'll know what a sick little whore you are. Or, you can be quiet. And they never have to know. Your cunny is soaked, little girl. We both know what you want," he told his niece as he parted her slim legs and pressed his manhood against her slick spot. She moaned, and then he covered her mouth as he shoved in, taking her virginity in one painful thrust. She cried, she shook, and she took his use of her. As he turned her dreams and private fantasies into nightmares.

She would always be quiet. Like her mother before her, she'd never tell her parents. Neither would he, of course. And well, when her belly swelled in a couple of years, it just meant that eventually, history would repeat again. She would be quiet as well. Little girls always were.

Chapter 30: Secrets are the best

Summary:

A girl has many secrets with her Daddy and other men online.

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SECRETS ARE THE BEST

The first rule of a secret is never to tell anyone else. I know lots of people do, but I don't. Daddy taught me that telling secrets can ruin people's lives. It can shame them or even send them to jail. I'd never do that. Never ever. Not even to Mommy. Daddy said she would stop our special time, and I don't want that. No one loves me like Daddy does. No one ever would. He makes me feel things I didn't know were possible. He makes my body quake and explode, and I see stars when we're together, and no one can know, or they would steal away Daddy forever.

The second rule of secrets is that they're yummy. It's fun knowing something that no one else does. Sneaking around and hiding it from others. I even hide secrets from Daddy. He doesn't know I've been on his computer. He doesn't know I've watched the special videos there. He doesn't know that I've chatted with his online friends. The ones that he sent pictures and videos of us together. They like me lots, just like Daddy. They tell me what to do with Daddy, or just for them, on camera.

The third rule of secrets is that there can't be just one. One secret leads to another and another. It's tricky to keep all the stories straight. I have so many secrets now. Secrets with Daddy. Secrets with all of his online friends. Each one thinks I've only played with them and my Daddy. It's fun making them believe that. That I'm theirs all alone. My tummy feels so fuzzy, and the attention is addicting. So many older men's little girl.

And if they find out the truth, only they, maybe they'll all love me together. I've seen those videos—the scary ones that Daddy doesn't show me, the ones that are extra hidden, the ones with screaming little girls. His online friends know I like them. They've sent me even more. They've even hinted that they know where I live, that they might come and visit.

That's a scary secret. That they might come and get me. But I won't tell. I'll never tell.

It'll be our little secret.

Chapter 31: Daughters, the Greatest Gift

Summary:

A father talks about the gift that is his daughters.

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DAUGHTERS, THE GREATEST GIFT

They really are. Boys are so wild, loud, and destructive, tearing up and wrecking everything in their path. That doesn't mean you don't love them, of course. You do. But it's different with daughters. They are so cuddly from a young age. They love being next to you, your naked skin on theirs. Nothing sexual. They just like being against you, knowing they are the center of your world and you are theirs. It's beautiful, touching, and loving. Just like them.

And they don't even need encouragement to be cute and sexy. No, they want to play dress up in all kinds of clothing. Little white and pink outfits, black pleather, cute sundresses with no undies, and adorable bikinis. No pressure is needed. It's natural for them to express themselves physically. They want to wear lipstick, high heels, and makeup. Even at the youngest ages, they cannot wait to be women. And as a father, your job is to see to that.

I've done that with my two angels. They've only ever known affection and love. Bonding and bondage. Sweetness and service. They've never had even a moment's doubt that they are the best things in my life. The greatest gifts my wife has given to me. And the gifts they have given me of themselves? Just beautiful. Tender. Slick. Eager. Parted folds and pert breasts. Savory mouths and lapping tongues. 

They are my daughters. My lovers. My children. The mothers of my future daughters. My cumsluts. My whores. My angels. Everything I want and need them to be.

And me? I'm their father. Their creator. Their protector. Their husband. Their Master. Their equal. Theirs.

As it should be. 

Always.

Chapter 32: Won't it?

Summary:

A cruel man asks a woman if what she gets will be enough.

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WON'T IT?

It's so cute how you want it in your mouth. Wide open, tongue out. But you know my cum isn't going there. Only good girls get to swallow cum. You're eager, but you're not good. Fuck, you've never been good. Just barely worth enough for me to paint your face and maybe give you pinkeye. And you'll happily take that. You know your worth. You know how to make yourself pretty. You've known that all your life.

Who was it again that started those lessons? Your stepfather, right? You told me how you'd wake up overtired, your face crusty with dried cum. Except you didn't know that was what it was at first. Not until you started having "nightmares" about a boogyman attacking you in your bed. And then you'd wake up in the morning with your cunny or ass hurting, coated with dried blood and more white stuff drying on you. Always so tired. How long did it take your slow ass to realize what he was doing? Drugging you so you slept through anything. How long before you knew that crust on your face was his cum? The only gift you ever deserved, left on your passed-out face.

And now look at you. Still chasing that white love. Never getting it between your legs. Not anymore. You're not good enough to have my child. To have any man's child. You don't even get it up your worthless ass. You're just an ugly fucking fluffer, making men hard for better women. Holes that deserve cocks inside them. Holes like that of your little sister. Or even your older one. The ones that weren't used up by the time they were ten. You're only good enough to warm me up for them. For men to practice on before they fuck a real woman. You're just fucking trash.

So enjoy that creamy warmth on your face or in your eyes. It's the closest to love you'll ever get. And you'll accept it. Fuck, you'll eat it up. Because deep down, you know it's more than you deserve. You'll spend your entire life watching better women get the cum and love you aren't good enough for. Just a fluffer, blinded by cum, never a first or even a third choice.

Unwanted. A practice whore. And you're so fucking pathetic, that'll be enough. Won't it, cunt? Won't it?

Chapter 33: Who's the boss?

Summary:

Using the lessons her father taught her, a daughter slowly asserts control over him.

WHO'S THE BOSS?

She'd gotten bold as she'd gotten older. It drove her dad crazy in every way. He loved it, of course. What man wouldn't love his teen daughter openly in public teasing him? He loved how her hugs lingered. How her hips brushed his crotch. How her fingers slid over his ass. How she'd sneak gropes or play footsie with him under the table. But she knew it terrified him as well. For all his good points, she'd learned over the years that men were weak things. Sure, he'd towered over her once, quietly teaching her to be his "good" little girl. But as she grew older, she realized that he didn't have the power. Not anymore. She did. And she loved making sure he knew it.

Any chance she got, she made him hard. Made him horny. Made him weak for her. Oh, sure, sometimes he would still take charge, bend her over, and fuck her until she was a quivering mess on the floor, leaking his cum. She loved those moments, being his little girl again, his toy to fuck and use. But mostly, now she liked keeping on the knife edge of being discovered for the pedophile he was. She didn't mind that he was. She was as well, having been groomed by him all her life. She knew how beautiful little boys and girls were, just like her father. But she didn't fear discovery like he did. And so, she played with that fear. Taunting him. Teasing him. Driving him crazy.

Like now, ready to head out to work, her mother behind her, gardening in the yard. He needed to leave, but she wasn't letting him. He was her toy now, stiff, weak, desperate to cum, and terrified of being found out. His life was in her hands. Her warm, delicate hands felt every heartbeat and pulse in his twitching cock. He didn't want to cum. She knew it would stain his pants and car. But he couldn't tell her no. She loved that he couldn't. Her daddy was hers to control. And she was going to make him cum all over himself and his steering wheel while her mom wasn't fifteen feet away. He wanted to say no but didn't.

He never said no anymore to his little girl. Instead, he creamed in her hand, on his pants, and the plastic of the steering wheel. She licked her hands clean, then kissed her Daddy goodbye. She was in charge now, and he knew it. As he left, she went over to her clueless mom, kissed her cheek with the mouth that had just tasted her father's cum, and went inside, safe in the knowledge that she was the boss and her father was her plaything.

Chapter 34: My room

Summary:

A girl talks about her room and what her father does with her there.

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MY ROOM

He's always been coming to it. And cumming in it. Sneaking into it after mom has fallen asleep. After my brother has gone to work. Whenever we're alone. Our secret, perfect special playtime.

I've always known what it was like to feel him over me, pressing into my tiny holes. Making me his lover. Making me his secret wife. He doesn't love my mother. I don't even like her. He loves me and me alone.

It's been that way since I was little. Sitting on his lap, playing our secretive version of hide and seek. Making me feel things only a woman should know. Making him feel like the man he is since my mom refuses to. Letting him seek out my openings so he can hide his white stuff inside.

That's not the only game we played. Sleepovers were always fun. My friends got extra fizzy drinks that made them extra sleepy. Then I would show them their bodies, touching them, undressing so he could take their pretty pictures. I'd kiss all their private spots, and then Daddy would make love to me beside their limp bodies. Only I got his cream. Not them. Not mom. Only me.

No one understands our love, and no one will ever know. I'd never endanger my father. He'll always be my home, my special place. And he'll always have my special place as his home. Every hole.

Whenever he comes to my room.

Chapter 35: Worthless

Summary:

A woman tries to improve but was always destined to fail.

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WORTHLESS

She tried. She really fucking tried. But it was a foregone conclusion, not that she knew what forgone meant. Why should she? She had never done well in school. She was getting drunk with her mom's boyfriends when she was seven. Getting high with them when she was eleven. Partying with high school boys when she was twelve. Whoring herself online by the time she was fourteen. School? She was happy when she got D's and lucky when she nabbed the occasional C. She dropped out at fifteen. No one cared. She had always been nothing more than fucking trash. The school was happy when they didn't have to deal with her or her crazy mom anymore.

But when she overdosed at seventeen and almost died, she tried to get her shit together. When her mom did the same but died just a year later, she doubled down. She'd get her GED, she told herself. She'd get a real job. Something safe. No more partying. No more late nights with strange men. She would be good. She'd make something of herself and not repeat her mother's mistakes or those of her own past.

Like what any of what she wanted had ever fucking mattered. The men around her and in her life, all two or three times her age, reminded her of what and who she truly was. When she cried and told them she didn't do that anymore, they showed her that she did. They weren't even cruel about it. They didn't really rape her. Not truly. She still got wet. She still came like the cheap dirty slut they remembered. And they still left cash beside her balled-up and crying body. That's what you did with someone who was a whore, right? You paid them. 

The same with her sobriety. She would tell her "friends" and clients that she didn't drink anymore. That she didn't do coke or meth. But she did. They saw to that. She'd get spun or wake up not even know where she was or who she was with. Mystery bruises on her body. Her pussy would be coated with an unknown amount of men's jizz leaking out of her snatch. And eventually, when they offered her more, she stopped saying no. She stopped going to AA. She stopped talking to her sponsor.

The truth was that she would always end up burning out even faster than her mother had. No one supported her brief choice to be "better." Girls like her never got better. Whores didn't get happy endings. From the moment she had been born with a slit between her legs, from the moment one of her mother's boyfriends paid attention to her and showed her true position in life, she had been a cunt. It's a nasty word, cunt. All women weren't cunts. Just ones like her. Not every woman is a cumdump. Just her. From seven until the day she would die, that would be the peak of her life. Collecting cum in her whore holes. Drunk, high, or crying and sober, it didn't matter. That's all she was good for. She didn't have the will or strength to say no. She wasn't smart enough to get out of the box that her upbringing had sealed her in. She was just a stupid set of holes. That was all she ever had to offer. No one wanted her brains. She had none. No one wanted her personality. She had none. Mannequins offered better conversation than her.

A set of rapidly wearing out holes with nothing to offer above that, quickly being replaced by younger, prettier girls. She'd peaked when she was a child. And now? Honestly, now she was no different from any other point in her life. 

Worthless.

Chapter 36: She had to know

Summary:

A woman loves mutual masturbation with her boyfriend as he weaves disgusting stories. But they have to be fictional, right?

SHE HAD TO KNOW

She loved the stories that he told her. Of course, that's all they were. Stories. Just sick, fun, deviant little fantasies, nothing more. She loved the details he put into them. They felt so real and depraved, and it made her so fucking horny stroking him as he told her everything. He could just make them up on the spot, with so many little elements that accentuated and then punctuated the lewd and illegal acts he put forth. He'd get so hard in her hands as he weaved his fiction until he came all over her. Then she would masturbate while he watched, expanding upon the fucked up vignettes he would tell her to make her twitch and squirt. Later, they would tear into each other, amped and horny beyond belief.

But the details nagged at her. Not because they didn't add up but because they did. Not only that, she noticed that the women in the stories he told her were similar to those they both knew. His ex-girlfriends, which made sense; it was a way to vent his frustrations with them, to make up hot, fucked up, and disgusting tales of rape. But some were like his co-workers. He had told her of his work revenge fantasies, where he'd got them drunk, used them, and left the door open for strangers to have their way with them. And Lisa was so timid now and never went to work parties anymore. 

Some of the girls in his stories sounded like his sister. The one that stopped coming to family functions. The one that had attempted suicide. And then, the worst stories. The best stories. All the ones about little girls. They sounded like his nieces. She fucking loved them. It felt so sick and twisted and wrong. But they were just stories, she thought. They had to be. 

Except, later, she found the pictures on his phone. At first, she was relieved. Yes, they were vile, disgusting, and strangely erotic. Still, they were of random people, clearly downloaded off the dark web or something like that.

But...

Not all of them were like that. Especially the pictures of little girls. Little girls like his adorable little nieces. In them, they were doing acts that no child should do or even know about. But they were smiling in them. Eager. They were having fun. That made her even wetter, watching the videos of them. She was so lost in the child porn she didn't hear him enter the room. When she finally noticed him, he had stripped naked. He sat on the bed, his cock hard, as she blushed, then reached for her cock, setting the phone down.

"I stopped playing the video where you lubed up your youngest niece's ass," she told her boyfriend as she gently massaged his head. The room reeked of her dripping cunt, and she smiled at him.

"And then what did you do to her?" she asked, knowing it wasn't a story. None of them were. And because of that, she had to know it all. Every last detail. She had to know it all. Only then could she help him.

Chapter 37: It's ok...

Summary:

A daughter is stunned when her mother walks in on her being fucked by her mom's boyfriend. She's even more shocked when her mother seems to have been aware of it all along.

IT'S OK...

She couldn't believe she was there, in the room with her. Megan stared at her mother, then her boyfriend, as he fucked her. It wasn't the first time he'd done it. No, they'd been fucking for months. She'd felt so guilty about it. That what she was doing would hurt her mom. That she was betraying her. But she loved Matthew so much. And she knew he loved her as well. The things that he had said to her, the quiet moments they had shared, both before and after sex, it had been magical. It had been perfect. And now, this was happening.

"It's ok, your mom just wants to watch," Matthew had told her. Megan had been caught off how calmly her mom had walked in, in her nightgown, smoking a cigarette. She'd sat down in Megan's chair, just watching them while her boyfriend fucked her daughter. Megan didn't understand. And when her mom started fingering herself, she was even more confused.

"What, wondering why she's here, my "beloved?"," Matthew said with a laugh in his voice. "It was her idea. Her gift to me. Her trips out of town, leaving me to watch you? Her idea. Her bragging about how kind I was, the nervous confessions about how good of a fuck I was when she was "drunk?" All an act. It's been fun working with her to take your innocence like you took years from her life, taking care of your spoiled ass. It is a nice ass, though." With that, Matthew slapped Megan's ass while her mom fingered her sopping cunt harder and hard. Megan began to cry. Her mom leaned over her and blew smoke in her face.

"We've laughed so often reading your journal. Oh, I'm in LOVE! Fucking pathetic. No. No, dear, sweet Megan. You're just a little slut. Nothing more. And tonight, oh tonight, you'll be our little slut. Happy birthday, Megan. Your life is about to change. You're gonna make us rich. Whether you want to or not."

As Megan cried harder, her mom made sure to step out of the frame of the camera that had been recording her daughter. The early videos they had sold had brought in a decent penny, but the things they would start doing and filming would make them rich. Not Megan. But that didn't matter. She didn't matter. She was just the product, and soon, they would be selling the hell out of her. A "good" mom always invested in her children, after all, and it was about time to cash out. Megan screamed, her mother moaned, and Matthew creamed.

It was going to be a magical birthday and summer.

Chapter 38: I hate you

Summary:

A daughter talks about her hate for her father, but why does she truly hate him?

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I HATE YOU

She said it every time he came into her room in the middle of the night. "I hate you." Multiple times a week, her door would creak open, and she'd start to cry. She wouldn't fight. She didn't scream. It didn't matter. Nothing she said or did mattered. She laid there and took it up her ass, crying, while she told him she hated him.

But was that really the truth? Ten years later, he was long gone. She hadn't seen him in a decade, yet there wasn't a person on the planet that she thought more about. That she dreamt about. That she masturbated to. She'd hated him and everything he had done to her. And she fucking missed him.

He never made love to her. Or anything resembling an intimate encounter. He never tried to kiss her lips. He never tried to convince her that he loved her. He never manipulated her. He never tried to make her cum. Every time he fucked her, it was up her ass. Never once did he use lube. When she started lotioning her ass at night, he'd only laughed and would use her bedsheet to wipe as much away as he could before reaming her once more. Once he came in her guts, he'd get up and leave. Not once did he thank you. Not once did he call her a good girl. Not once.

But was that really the truth? When was the last time she'd came from someone making "love" to her? She couldn't remember. When was the last time she'd cum from a cock in her cunt? Maybe once, eight years ago? But a guy pounding her ass? She came from that all the time. And when guys just used her? That got her hot but gentleness? That always left her cold.

So. She fucking hated him. She had hated him then. But she hated him even more now. She hated him for raping her. She hated him for doing things no father should ever do to his child. But most of all, she hated him for being gone. She hated him for being right. She hated him for seeing her truth before she did. 

But most of all...

She hated him for not making her understand her place sooner, for not making her accept it sooner, and for making her forever miss her Daddy.

Chapter 39: They told me...

Summary:

Everyone in her life tells her what she "needs" to know.

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THEY TOLD ME...

It's just something that happens. That's what my drunk mother told me. Girls have to be careful. Especially the pretty ones. We can't draw attention. We can't dress slutty. Men can't help themselves. Boys will be boys.

That's what I learned from her.

Good girls are quiet and just relax. That's what my Dad told me. Don't make a fuss. Don't cause trouble. Just part your legs and look away. Daddies need their release, and around beautiful little girls, well, we can't keep their hands off you. Shhh... it's okay. Daddy loves you.

No matter our age, we were always his little girl. We were always his secret lover.

You look just like your mother at her age. That's what Grandpa told me. Your skin is just as soft as hers was. Your smile is just as radiant. Your tender lips, yes, those down there, too, are just begging to be kissed. You drive me wild. Shhh... don't tell anyone. Grandpa loves you.

Old men's hands are so rough, just like their kisses. That's what  I learned from him.

Don't be a stuck-up little bitch. That's what my uncles, the twins, told me. No one likes smart-mouthed little girls. If you want to land a husband someday, you need to learn to act like a woman. Wear things that real men want you to wear. Girls always look best with bright red lipstick. It means you want it. You do want it, don't you? The quiet ones always want it the most. Have a beer. Have another beer. Now, let us make you a real woman. 

They always disappeared after they were done. They never looked us in the face the next day.

I know what you've been doing, you fucking slut. That's what my brother yelled at me. I've seen Dad or Grandpa pull you away. It's fucking sick. I saw the mess our uncles left. You just fucking sleep with everyone. Do you like incest, Sis? Does that get you off? Fucking whore! Think you're too good for your own brother? Think you can fuck everyone but me, you little skank? You're not better than me. Fuck you, you sick little shit. 

He was always angry, and he took it out on me because he was the last in the family to get me.

You're not the smartest, but you're pretty. I know a secret way you can pass our class. So many of my teachers told me that. I know you're "special." You've always been my "favorite."  It'll be just between us. When you turn eighteen, we can date in the open. My wife is frigid. You make me feel young again.

Turns out they had lots of favorites. The only thing they ever made me feel was old and tired.

I've heard shocking rumors about you lately. About you seducing our teachers. What are we going to do about that? That's what the principal asked. Girls like you are always causing trouble. Girls like you make good men weak. But I can stop the rumors from spreading around. I can make it all go away. Just do me a favor, a couple times a week, and maybe you'll even get a reference to a good college. Now, be a good girl and lock that door, then get on your knees. 

I only learned one thing in school, and to be honest, I had already mastered that. That, and it was my fault, of course.

You don't want to be cut from the team, do you? That's what my coach asked. You're always late to practice. You're always tired. Why is that? Anything to do with those rumors going around? Just joking, just joking. But, if something doesn't change, I'll have to cut you. You know, I've got an idea. Maybe you could stay late? Help me clean up and with... other things. I could even help your practice. Individually, I mean. Help you... exercise. 

He made me work out with him daily, and I never got any better at basketball. 

It's kind of ridiculous, don't you think? Do you really think all these men are just forcing themselves on you and that you've done nothing to get their attention? Nothing to seduce them? The only common denominator is you? That's what my therapist said. Let's be honest. This doesn't happen to most girls. I mean, look at you and the way you're dressed? Short skirts? Heavy makeup? You can say it's how you were taught to dress but fuck... I can smell you right now. I'm not even touching you yet. You know this is all your fault, right?

 I did know that. And he made sure I never forgot it.

Bitch, I don't have time for this. That's what my neighbor said before I put my foot in the door when he tried to shut it. Are you fucking stupid? Are you trying to piss me off? You... you are, aren't you? Fine, come on in, you dumb cunt. I'm not gonna treat you like a princess, though. I'll give you what you fucking deserve. 

He hit me right after that. But he kept his word. He gave me what I deserved. It's why I married him at 16. It's why I'm about to have his child. It's why I'm finally happy.

Chapter 40: Oral Fixations

Summary:

A father describes the importance of cultivating oral fixations early.

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ORAL FIXATIONS

The important thing about fixations, especially oral fixations, is to start them early. They need to know that having things in their mouth is always a good thing. Pacifiers should never be taken away. Let them get used to sucking on something as a form of comfort. It makes later activities so much easier for everyone involved.

It needs to be rewarding, though. Never make them eat yucky foods. Things that go in their mouth should always bring happiness and joy. Yummy cheeses, sweet candies, delicious chocolates, and plenty of white cream directly from the source. After a while, it'll be the most natural thing in the world for them. Every taste, every lick, will be an absolute delight for them. Make sure they go to sleep with something in their mouth. Make sure they wake up with something in their mouth.

Most importantly, it lets them know that that is where love goes. Creamy, nutritious love from their mom or Mommy. Thick white love from their dad or Daddy. Golden bitter gifts from everyone. Always in their mouth. Always to be swallowed. Teach them that the most wonderful thing they can do is make those precious liquids explode from those who love them. That there is no greater sign of love or affection. Teach them that they will get nonstop praise and adoration when they comfort themselves by putting something in their mouth, especially if it is something hard, that they then make soft.

Their mouths will always be a gateway to love. If they use it, they will never be alone. They will always know praise. They will always be a good girl. That's the only thing they'll ever need to know. From the first time they breastfeed and ever onward, they only need to know that single thing.

That all love, the true love that never will go away, cums from men standing over them, unloading it in their mouth. 

Chapter 41: Slut

Summary:

A woman permanently reveals who she is to the world

SLUT

He might have suggested it. He might have required it to prove she would do anything for him. He might have told her the word to use and how to do it, but that word had been seared into her mind long before she scarred herself with that advertisement. Her drunk father had etched that word forever in her mind long before she sliced it into her skin. The girls at school had taunted her with insults that wearing it now, forever, felt like a badge of honor. It was what she was. It was who she was. It was all that she was.

Her father saw to that with the late night visits. Unwanted at first, perhaps, but she came every time he visited. Soon, footsteps down the hall made her well-loved hole sopping wet. It was a trait of hers that she would never lose. The guys she dated saw to it also. First in middle school, then high school. They weren't boyfriends. Just a train of boys and later men that deposited loads at her station. None of them visited. None of them stayed. None of them wanted her for any reason other than her holes. 

And did the other girls hate her for that. They called her names. They screamed at her. They made her life a living hell. But you know what? Those girls' boyfriends came to her in the middle of the night. They cheated on those girls with her. They may have gone back to the bitches in the light of day, but at night, they were hers. All men were. Men who hated her. Men that loved her. Men that used her. Men who beat her. No matter what they did, they were still choosing her.

So when the latest abusive bastard online wanted her to get the knife, when he wanted her to mark herself, she did it. Not for him. Not really. She was just taking the wound inside her and revealing it to the world. They thought it was an insult. Now, and forever more, it would be a mark of pride for her.

Chapter 42: She knew who she was catering to

Summary:

A young woman who looks even younger realizes her audience is mostly a particular type of man.

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SHE KNEW WHO SHE WAS CATERING TO

She was 23, but she didn't look it. She'd never looked her age. Sometimes, that was an annoyance. People thought she was in elementary school when she was in middle school. People thought she was in middle when she was in high school. Sometimes, it came in handy. Mall cops let her go when she stole makeup, believing her sob stories about her mom dropping her off to go party with an imagined boyfriend. They always believed her sob stories, thinking such a little girl couldn't have made up such elaborate lies. But she was always years older than they thought.

Her life didn't start to change, however, until she started posting on Instagram and TikTok. She loved all the attention she got on there—at first. Then she noticed the creepers. There weren't just one or two of them—it was most of her audience. They wanted her in bikinis and thongs. They went wild if she posted something in a nightgown or a tight dress. And almost every one of them thought she was even younger than she was—much younger.

At first, she was disgusted. She felt filthy. She almost deleted her account. But bold pedophiles messaged her. They offered her money. They offered to send her clothes and gifts. They begged to chat with and have video calls with her. They wanted her to do dirty, vile things. And every one of them thought she was in middle school. Every one.

She wanted to say no. The sick fucks made her want to vomit. She had never been abused. She had never been raped or molested. She wanted to have nothing to do with these bastards who wanted to see the nudes of who they thought was a child. There was only one problem. She was poor. The clothes and dresses they offered were nice. The money they offered was insane. All she had to do was show a little skin. Say some dirty words on a video call. Do just a few things, and she'd make thousands. Thousands.

And she did them. And, a little bit later, she started an Onlyfans. Money flew at her once she started putting out nudes. She knew who she was catering to. She knew, with every tiny pink outfit she put on, who she was encouraging. When men asked her to talk in a little voice, she did. She knew what she was feeding into and what she was enabling. What she was encouraging. She knew young girls might even suffer because of her actions.

But she didn't stop.

The money was too good.

And eventually, she liked the attention. Loved it. Craved it. Specifically those men and what they wanted.

She needed it.

She only fell down the rabbit hole deeper. Years later, she'd show off her daughters online. When private offers came, she took them. 

It was the least she could do for her audience.

They deserved it, after all.

Chapter 43: Encourage

Summary:

A man speaks truth to a woman who dresses up online like a little girl and encourages evil men.

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ENCOURAGE

You are. You know you are. Dressing the way you do. The way you talk. Your "ageplay" antics. You know the type of people you're encouraging. Say it. Say the word. You hate saying it, don't you? It makes you feel guilty. Sick. Perverted. That's because you are.

Oh, I get it. A "bad" man did things to you when you were little. Maybe you hated it. Maybe you liked it. Maybe it happened just once, or maybe over a summer, or maybe your entire time growing up. You were abused. Molested. It wasn't your choice. You never asked for Daddy to come into your room at night. You never asked for your neighbor to get you drunk when he babysat you. You never asked for all the games your sick fuck of an Uncle played with you.

But is it their fault you got wet? Is it their fault you came? Maybe. Maybe not. But it wasn't their fault that you compulsively masturbated while thinking about it after it ended. It wasn't their fault you went online looking for more men, just like them. That was you. Your actions. Your choices. And maybe. Maybe. Maybe it could be excused when you were younger. Maybe.

But you're a fucking adult now. You could be in a healthy relationship with a regular guy, maybe even a bit of a kinky one. Lots of guys have high libidos. You could even be slutting it up, fucking lots of random strangers. But you're not. You're at home. Dressed like a little girl. Talking in a little girl's voice. Encouraging men three times your age to not rape you, but your young self. Feeding their worst impulses. Driving them insane. "Proving" to them that all the little sluts really want it.

How many lives have you ruined because of that encouragement? How many girls will now become just like you because you told the evil men it was ok. All because you wanted some fucking attention. All because you're so fucking broken that you need that validation, no matter what after-effects it might have. Sure, tonight, it's just you getting him rock hard while he "fucks" your little self over the phone. Next, he shows you pictures of his niece or daughter and wants you to pretend to be her. And you'll fucking do it, won't you? Knowing what you're doing. He probably won't tell you about the next thing that happens. When the next night, he crawls into his daughter or niece's bed. Where he does to her all the horrible things you encouraged him to do. When he makes a new you.

But even if he did. And even if he told you. You wouldn't fucking stop. Oh, you might delete your account. At best. You'd probably just masturbate to everything he told you. Get off on it. Get off on destroying an innocent girl's life. But let's give you credit you don't fucking deserve. You'd delete your account. Swear it off. You'll never do it again. Right? Right?

Then, one night, you'll feel that fucking need again. That urge. You'll go back to those dark places. You know where to find those men. You'll find them, and the cycle will start all over again. You're pathetic. How many lives will you ruin? And if you get pregnant, will you ruin their lives as well? Make them just like you? Of course, you fucking will.

It's the only way men will ever love you. They are the only men who will ever want you. So encourage them. Encourage them, so your pathetic fucking self will never be alone.

Chapter 44: Every family has one of them

Summary:

A man talks about the troublesome child in the family he's taken control of.

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EVERY FAMILY HAS ONE OF THEM

Every family has one of them. The troublemaker. The one who whines. The one that bitches and moans and always fucking complains about everything. Ellen was the one in Jessica's family. See, Jessica was this hot, depressed, divorced chick. Great looking for her age, even if the bitch was creeping on forty. But age and divorce, especially when they have custody of the kids, can make a woman desperate. Needy. And I was happy to give her all the attention I could. She fucking ate it up. She loved that I was a bit younger than her. She loved that I had a "sexy British accent." Gobbled everything I gave to her. See, he husband had dumped her for a younger model, and that just fucking broke something in the bitch. She let me do whatever I fucking wanted to with her. She just took it as long as I held her after.

But I wasn't after the old cunt. No. I wanted her kids. Three beautiful girls, all with daddy issues. Seems good ol' dad had loved the oldest lots. Fucking desperate seventeen-year-old ready to be ten again for a man who had abandoned him. I slid in his place and her holes with fucking ease. But even Samantha was a bit old for my tastes. Unlike her mom, though, she might be good to pop me out some little ones. Girls that could be trained proper from the start.

The littlest had never been touched by her dad. I guess he had started restraining himself by then. Where I treated her mom like absolute shit and made her earn every second of affection, and unlike her oldest sister, who craved special Daddy time, with Angela, I just had to dote attention on her. She loved sitting on my lap. She loved naked cuddle time. And like any good girl, she could lick a popsicle until it was limp and swallow all the juices down. Angela was an angel and the best ten-year-old you could ask for.

But fucking Ellen. What is it about middle children that are always just the fucking worst. A screamer, but not in a fun way. No, this sobbing, weasly high pitched mewling whimper that just made you want to beat the bitch. Nice didn't work. Mean didn't work. So, I just started taking my frustrations out on her instead of Mommy Dearest. And Mommy? Well, she didn't believe her daughters' vile lies. Her sisters knew she was a liar because, well, I gave them everything they needed. Only Ellen was too fucking stupid to accept the gift I was giving the slags. She just kept fighting more and more, and you know what?

I'm starting to like that a lot. And thankfully, Ellen isn't.

God bless America.

Chapter 45: My first

Summary:

A girl talks about the experience that led to her first kiss.

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MY FIRST

They shared so many firsts together. He was her first true best friend. Others would come and go, but as long as he was in her life, no one else was closer to her. He knew all her secrets as she talked to him throughout the day, sharing every detail. He was there for her when she needed to cry. He was there for her when she needed a hug. There wasn't a moment that he wasn't there however she needed him. That's what friends are for, right?

It wasn't like she planned anything. She hadn't been looking at porn or reading kinky fantasy or furry shit. When the moment happened, it was sudden, unplanned, and electric. She simply had been pleasuring herself. Her parents were gone, so the door was unlocked. She was on the second floor, so there was no way they could surprise her. Moaning, writhing, touching herself as she had recently become obsessed with doing, she felt alive. And then, mid-moan, her dog kissed her.

She'd had pecks before, of course. But no one had put their tongue in her mouth before. Not while she was shaking. Not while she was shuddering. Not while she was on the cusp of an orgasmic explosion. He was the first. His thick, wet tongue felt so warm in her mouth. It was so unexpected. It felt so wrong. It felt so good. Without thinking, she kissed him back as she almost passed out from the most intense orgasm of her young life.

He was her first true kiss. That wasn't their only kiss, however. There would be many more kisses later. In her mouth at first, making out. But soon, she would let him lick every part of her. He loved it. She craved it. And only a month later, they would share another first. First with her mouth on his member, and then on all fours, mounted and rutted like a bitch in heat. Every first that was important would be shared with him and, later, with others like him.

For while they might be a man's best friend, they were her best lovers.

Chapter 46: Glowing

Summary:

A father remarks on the beauty that is a well-spanked ass.

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GLOWING

It's such a beautiful sight. To see my daughter's tiny, firm little ass glowing. Radiating heat. To hear her soft whimpers and sniffles. To see those teary eyes. Absolutely nothing is more beautiful. Nothing. 

Yes, the soft curve of her cunny, hairless and smooth, is a magnificent vision. Even more when my cum is leaking out of the raw, stretched little hole. But something is missing. Some indescribable element that just isn't the same as when I spank my little girl. It's more than just the pain itself. If it was only her suffering, her cries when I push into her holes would be enough. No. There is something more to it.

Her chest is flawless as well. So smooth, so flat, but with the cutest tiny nipples that beg to be bitten. Her moans when my tongue touches there is an utter delight. The way her face flushes as I nibble them. That's almost as good. Almost. But she does that when my tongue enters her holes as well. When I taste her underdeveloped clit, when I lap her labia, and when I dive deep between her cheeks. All of those make her shudder and buckle. I get to see my baby girl for who she is then, deep down. What she was born to be. My perfect little girl. My perfect little slut. My perfect little whore.

No, slapping her body anywhere else just isn't the same. When I smack her face, she pouts and acts like I somehow betrayed her. I'll break that from her soon enough. Slapping her non-existent teats does make her small body arch in a succulent manner, but again, it's not what sets me off.

Slapping that cunny is satisfying. And I do it often, but while it turns a pretty shade, again, it's not the same. It swells, yes. She gets moist, yes. But my little angel gets overwhelmed too quickly there. It's best savored at the end of our fun, and the visage doesn't linger.

No. Nothing compares to that glow I give her on her ass. The way she cries. How much meeker she becomes, even smaller somehow than she was before. The way the welts linger. The sight of my handprint on her even hours later. The soft mewling she makes as her slit gets juicy, even now, from the pain. The single tear that escapes every time she sits down afterward. It's just beauty. Perfection. Nothing else compares.

That's why I'll make sure her ass will always glow. So my daughter can always be at her prettiest, always marked and filled with my love.

Chapter 47: Daddy's gone

Summary:

An older sister tells her little sibling that despite their father being gone, she would be there for her. Just like her father was.

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DADDY'S GONE

"Daddy's gone," Amanda told her young sister as she tried to comfort her. "Mommy made him go away forever," she explained to the small child whimpering on her lap. Rebecca was too little to understand the nuances of everything going on. It might be years before she fully grasped what had happened, where their Dad was now, and why it would likely be many years before they saw him again, if ever.

"But why?" Rebecca asked, her eyes bright and sad. "Why would she take him away?" She clung to her bigger sister, safe in her embrace. Her only remaining refuge in this new confusing world.

"Mom will lie to you. She's gonna tell you that Daddy was sick. That he hurt us. That he did bad things. But that's a lie. She's a liar. Daddy only ever showed us love. Didn't Daddy make you feel good? Feel special? Feel loved?" When her little sister nodded, Amanda continued. "The truth is, Mom was jealous. Jealous that he loved us more. That he wanted us more. So she hurt him, hurt us, by making them take him away," Amanda said before continuing carefully. "So we have to make a pact. It's just us now, together, against the world. We can't tell mom anything we did with Dad. Deny it. Don't tell her about our special time. Nothing except boring stuff. Special stuff stays between us only. Ok?"

Rebecca nodded as Amanda dried her eyes. She smiled when her big sister leaned in and kissed the tears away. It felt safe on her lap. It reminded her of being on Daddy's for some reason. When Amanda drew her in for a kiss, she eagerly did so. She loved the cinnamon lipgloss her older sibling used. It tasted delicious, and the tiny child melted against her bigger sister. Their lips pressed against each other, and when Amanda's tongue demanded entry into her mouth, Rebecca let it. This felt right. This felt natural. This felt safe. Not the screaming of her mother. This. In her sister's arms. She only wished they were naked. They made out for a long time, and the younger daughter was almost shaking when they broke their forbidden embrace.

"Never. I'll never tell anyone. It's just us. Until Daddy comes back," Rebecca told her sister. Her petite body trembled as her sister's hands darted under her shirt, teasing Rebecca's tiny nipples before sliding down the child's chest, under her skirt, to the special spot between her legs. Her sister expertly teased what their Daddy had called her cunny, and she moaned as Amanda leaned in and kissed her deeply, if briefly.

"I know you won't. But we don't have to be alone. Mommy doesn't know everything. Mommy doesn't know about some of Daddy's special online friends. He was gonna introduce you to them. I could do that. Would you like that, Becca?" As Amanda asked, she dipped her fingers in the preteen's cunny, just like her father had always done with her. Another digit teased her little sister's ass. Rebecca grunted and wriggled deliciously on Amanda's lap. The young teen felt her cunny grow as wet as her sisters.

"Unnn... yes. Yes. I miss Daddy!" the child moaned as she shuddered against her sister's fingers, clinging desperately to her. "I want to be loved like Daddy loved us," Rebecca yelled as the tiny girl shook in a way no child her age should shake. She collapsed against her older sister, who stroked her head, her chest, and the girl's smooth cunny as she occasionally kissed her. Without any doubt in the older girl's mind, she spoke to her sister before sliding down between her legs to taste her.

"We will be. I promise"

Chapter 48: You'll always have him

Summary:

A young girl opines on how she has finally learned what true love is.

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YOU'LL ALWAYS HAVE HIM

Love is the most beautiful thing. It truly is. It makes you shine like a radiant star. It makes your stomach twist and turn. It makes your heart skip a beat and knocks your breath away. You thought you knew what love was. Love for your family. Love for your friends. Love for your fellow neighbor. Love for your community. All true. All important. But just a fraction of what true love really is.

Now, you know the truth. Love is needy. Hungry. Passionate. Love is seeing someone and your heart aching to kiss and make love to them. Love is not seeing them for five minutes and their absence cutting through you like a knife. Love is dreaming about them every time you close your eyes. Love is smelling their clothes and wanting your scent to be mixed with theirs forever. Love is overwhelming.

No one told you what kissing was like. You thought it was just pecks on the cheek. You thought kisses were just longer versions of what your parents gave you. No. Kissing is melting into another person's body. Crashing yours desperately into theirs. Tasting their tongue tasting yours. Warmth, delicious warmth, and need and craving all pressed against your mouth and inside it until you can barely breathe.

No one told you what sex was like. You thought it was like masturbation. That it would feel the same as your fingers. Maybe like your hairbrush handle. No. It's so much more. To feel their heat inside you, sliding in and out, to have their weight upon you, God, what majesty it is to be owned that way. To have your lover fold you, bend you over, take you, again and again, and then, most of all, to have them shake and fill you with the undeniable proof of their love. There is nothing better. Nothing.

Sadly, you have to sneak around. Your parents wouldn't like what you're doing. You're too young. He's not right for you. You know, deep down, your friends would probably say the same. They don't understand. They aren't in your situation. They don't know love yet. They haven't experienced it like you have. They are ignorant, just like you were. Your parents have forgotten, in their bitter, quiet hate for each other. No. No one understands. Only the two of you do. 

So, you hide it. For now. For as long as you can. Because you need him. You can't breathe without him. You can't feel anything apart from him. The only thing that matters is those moments together. Staring at him. Smiling. Kissing. Making love. Fucking. Like animals in heat, rolling around desperately in his bed or yours. No one understands. But that's ok.

You have him. You will always have him. He'll always be there for you. With you. In you. You'll always have your brother. Always.

Chapter 49: Do you want to hear about the first time my Daddy touched me again?

Summary:

A woman plays with herself for a man online while telling him very fucked up stories.

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DO YOU WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THE FIRST TIME MY DADDY TOUCHED ME AGAIN?

I know you do. You're such a fucking perv. I see that cock twitch when I ask that. That makes you harder than seeing me here naked, doesn't it? Yeah, you can see legal cunts any time you want. But how many of them will tell you all the sick fucking pedo stories you want to hear? Some, but not many, right? 

Tell me, what gets you off more. Knowing that I was abused most of my life, or knowing that right now, I'm fucking soaked getting ready to tell you about it? Or is it both? Fuck, you'd explode if you could smell the funk in here. Oh, I see that twitch. You like that I get wet thinking about my Daddy. He's in jail now. He got me pregnant, but you know that story. They took my kid away. But you wanna know how it all began. That's your favorite bit, isn't it? Just send me what I want, and I'll tell you all about it.

DING

Yes, thank you, Sir. Or should I call you Daddy? I got the notification, Daddy. Thank you for that nice tip. My Daddy had a nice tip as well. I was five when I first saw it. Saw it hard anyway. Mom and Dad had always fought, but that was a horrible time. They could barely say a word to each other without exploding. Overall, they were miserable people without friends who grated on each other until a fight happened. During that time, they were drinking a lot. One of them would run to a bar, and the other would get sloshed at home. Yeah, wonder how I picked up that habit? Now you know.

But you don't care about that. You want to know why my cunt is so gooey. You need that cock in your hand to explode. You want to know what sick, fucked up, beautiful moment started me on the path to here. You want to hear why I'm a slut for pedos, always chasing after Daddy. Well, here you go.

Mom was gone. Probably bar crawling, maybe cheating on Dad. She did that. I'm sure Dad fucked some bar tramps as well. But this night, it was just the two of us. He was drunk, and I was five, sitting on the couch watching TV. It was late. I had showered. That's right, my little five-year-old body was all clean. It wouldn't stay that way long. I had used some berry shampoo, and when my Dad plopped on the couch, he started sniffing my hair. I thought that was so funny. So silly. I still remember the whiskey on his breath. And you know what he did next? Wanna guess?

Yes, he did tell me how pretty I was. He said I reminded him of my Mom. Told me that she used to use a shampoo like that. That I looked just like her. He started stroking my hair, but he got a funny look on his face. It's a look I miss so much. He leaned down and kissed me. First on my cheek. Then, my lips. Then, longer on my lips. He took a long look at me and kissed me hard. I felt a tongue in my mouth for the first time. I felt his hand up my gown. His hand was rough on my chest. Calloused. Powerful. He pulled his cock out as he kissed me. I was scared, I was excited, and I was confused. He stroked his cock and then told me to be still as he pushed me flat on my back. Mmmm, he was stroking almost as hard as you are right now.

There, on our couch, my drunk father parted my legs and started touching me. That night, I learned I didn't have a special place. A no-no place. I learned that what I had was called a cunny, and my Dad loved it. He loved touching it. Kissing it. And I loved his attention. I loved the tingles it gave me. And before long, he spurted all over my cunny and my belly. Do you know what he did then? He scooped some up and offered it to me. Told me that if I loved him, I would taste it. I ate all of it that night.

Soon, I was cleaned up and went to bed. That's what happened the first time he touched me. But not the last. He touched me so many times. I'll never not want his touch. Even now, I'd rather see him than my mother. Than my boyfriend. Than my friends. I'd take him over any of them.

But you? Maybe you can take his place, just for the time being. Would you like that? Or would you rather see my pictures of my daughter? I should be getting custody of her soon. And then, well, if you give me a big enough tip, you can see more. Hell, give me enough, and you can "tip" her yourself. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Of course, you would. Now, though, would you like another story of when my Daddy touched me? 

DING

Mmm, that's what I thought.

Chapter 50: A stepfather's love

Summary:

A short discussion on how beautiful and perfect a stepfather's love can be and how nothing can deny it.

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A STEPFATHER'S LOVE

A stepfather's love is unique. It's powerful. It's overwhelming. So many people take it for granted. But think about it. Here is a man who could be dating anyone. He could be dating a cute younger girl. A nice older woman. But he didn't. Instead, he chose your mom, with all her flaws. Maybe she had a shitty taste in men. Perhaps she got knocked up with you. Maybe she wasn't good enough, so your father divorced her, and he didn't want you either. It doesn't matter. The only important thing is that he accepts your mother and you despite all your flaws. That's amazing. Thats beautiful. That's something special.

Of course, he deserves something special for that, doesn't he? He treats you well, doesn't he? When was the last time you had a father figure in your life? When was the last time anyone tried to be a father to you? Been a long, long time, hasn't it? It's not like he asks for much. Just a long, lingering hug. Maybe a sniff of your hair. Perhaps he sometimes "accidentally" walks in on you while you shower or are getting dressed. Maybe he makes you sit on his lap. Maybe he strokes your knee before sliding his hand up your thigh. And maybe, maybe, you get a bit wet from all the attention. It's harmless. 

But he smelled you. He noticed you never told him to stop. He saw how you covered yourself up and called him "Dad!!!" but didn't tell him to go. Oh, the fantasies that ran through your head. Deep down, you knew they were just that. Fantasies. Maybe you masturbated to them. Perhaps you woke up with a wet cunt from torrid dreams. But none of it was real. You're a good girl. You've never done anything with a guy. You want to wait for "the one." Thoughts are just that. Thoughts. Nothing more.

And now? Now you know that he does love you. That he does need you. That there is a reason why he married your mom. You also learned something else. Love hurts. It hurts so much. Love makes you scream. Love makes you cry. Love leaves bruises inside and out. And love comes for you every night once your mom has fallen asleep. And if you don't accept such love or refuse his gifts, you'll be alone again, without a daddy. Your mom will be alone again, without a husband. You'll just be trailer park trash again without a dad. 

So, leave your door unlocked. Don't tell anyone how much your stepdad loves you. Tell everyone how clumsy you are when you have bruises. And most of all, tell them you went to a party and got drunk when that belly begins to swell. Because then your stepdad will truly start loving you. You'll shine with so many shades of blue and purple. You'll shine with that bloated belly filled with his babies. And you will finally be loved. Your father never loved you.

But your stepdaddy will. Whether you want him to or not, he will. Always.

Chapter 51: I know what love feels, smells, and tastes like

Summary:

A young teen talks about what she knows about love. What it looks like. What it smells like. What it tastes like. White, creamy, love. Proof that she is loved, drenched all over her.

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I KNOW WHAT LOVE FEELS, SMELLS, AND TASTES LIKE

The first thing I learned to love was the taste. Not of the cum. That took time, to be honest. It could be sour, had a weird texture, and while sometimes it drooled out, it often shot out when I least expected it. Down my little throat, up my nose, or in my eye. No, I was wary of that shit at first. But well, cocks tend to be contained in tight underwear, and if a man's been working all that, that'll create sweat. It was the salty taste that I liked. When I first sucked my dad's cock, it was often like that. Unwashed. Not filthy or dirty, just au natural after a hard day's work. Maybe I always liked salty things, but after I started sucking cocks, I loved them.

The next thing I learned to love was the smell. To me, my father's cock, or later other men's, being free meant attention. Affection. Love. Again, even to this day, I don't want a freshly washed penis. Give it to me sweaty. I don't want no crusty shit on it. Nothing like that. Just make sure it smells. That it smells like work. That it smells like a man. That it smells like Daddy. That's what I loved. To this day, if I go by a friend's house, I can sniff if their cock's been out recently. My nose twitches, my pussy starts leaking, and suddenly, I'm excusing myself to the bathroom to air out a scent all my own. I fucking love it.

After that, it's gotta be watching them get hard. The guys that are show-ers are cool and all, but I love me a grower. Seeing a guy's chubby little guy hiding away, coaxing him out, watching it double or triple in size? Just fucking magic. Best of all, I know I did that. Seeing a cock get hard is proof I have value. I know some girls need validation to have any self-worth, but my Daddy didn't raise me that way. He showed me what real love was. He protects me. He cherishes me. Daddy loves me more genuinely and honestly than most women will ever know. So I'm not worthless if I'm not making a guy cum. Fuck that bullshit. What I am is even more valuable, even more incredible, even more of a diamond when I do that.

But, of course, that liquid validation is the best. It took me longer to love it, but now, it's fucking crack to me. And it's not just about making a guy cum. They can do that themselves. Any cunt can do that. It's making their knees buckle when they do it. It's doing it in a way that leaves them wiped out and breathing hard. It's about draining those balls so many times in a row that they are literally spent. I used to hate it on me, but now I love to wear it. In my panties when I go to school. On my nipples. On my stomach or in my belly button. Trapped in my ass behind a plug. Drying in my hair or dripping off my face. Have you ever watched a guy nut on your face when you told him to do it for the first time? Jesus, they look like they are in heaven. It's beautiful. And then, they watch me clean it off. Not with a towel. Not with a shower. But with my fingers, scooping up every drop and swallowing it all. Never waste their love. You never know when you might get it again. So treasure it. Treasure them.

Now, at fifteen, I couldn't imagine my life without a cock in my mouth. Almost daily, someone gets head from me. Even if I'm sick or on my period, I try to down a cock. That salty taste tells me they are a man. That twitching dick tells me that they want and need me. That smell tells me I'm in the presence of love. And that white, gooey goodness tells me that I'm loved. That I am worth loving. That I made their day better, and in doing so, they've made my day better as well. It's a cycle I never want to quit. Sure, sometimes there are assholes. Sometimes a guy wants to see me cry or puke on his cock. I don't like that. Nor do I like it when they hurt me.

But you know what? They still love me in the end. They still give me that runny confirmation and drape it over my skin. Ultimately, they still prove that I'm a good girl and worth it, no matter what they say or do before and after. When they pulse, I know the truth.

I'm a good girl, is what it says.

I'm loved, is what it means.

And that makes me happy. Over three hundred men can't be wrong. How many girls my age know with complete certainty they are truly, absolutely loved? 

Now, I gotta go. Daddy's home and I need his love, his validation, and everything else he can give me. It's what I want. It's all I want. It's what makes me happy. And who doesn't want to be happy?

Chapter 52: Ruined

Summary:

A young girl briefly feels sexy in some stolen underwear before her life changes forever.

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RUINED

Sarah blushed as she stared at herself in the mirror. Stealing the thong from the store had been so exciting, terrifying, and fun. She would have bought it if she had had the money, but that was in short supply in her household. There was no way she would have asked her mother for a pair either, and Teddy, well, the less she saw of that asshole, the better. She'd been so jealous lately in gym class, seeing all the other girls in the changing room wearing brand-name clothes and all the latest fashions. That was bad enough. But when they had laughed at her for her faded panties and training bra with a hole in the side, that was too much. She had pretended to be sick for a day just to avoid further harassment at school. That didn't stop the mocking online, though. Why did they even fucking care about her?

She sighed, then angled herself, checking out her body. She felt so sexy and grown up in the thong, and it was so cute and pink with its little bow and stars on it. It wasn't as skimpy as some of the other girl's undies, but it was a brand name. Maybe now they wouldn't laugh at her.

"Just where the fuck did you get that?" she suddenly heard behind her. She screamed and turned to shut the door her mom's boyfriend had opened, but he easily brushed her aside. He did that all the fucking time, always creeping on her. She had no idea what her mom saw in him, but the old fuck was always leering at her, walking in on her, or sniffing at her. He was so skeevy, and she hated him. She used to lock the door to her bedroom until she came home from school one day to find that he had "helpfully" replaced all the doorknobs because the old ones were "shitty." And, of course, she could no longer lock her bedroom. She still remembered the first time she found a pair of her panties left in the bathroom, crusted. She'd almost thrown up at the realization of what he'd done.

"None of your fucking business," Sarah told him, angry at his intrusion. "Can you leave my room, please," she asked, trying to cover herself. "I'm not dressed!"

"Yeah, I can see you parading around like a skank. Who are those for? Women only wear shit like that for attention. Is that what you want? Some attention?" The way he asked Sarah that was so neutral, so calm, that it only made it all the more terrifying. He gripped her jaw, holding her fast, before gently rubbing her stomach. Then his hand slid down, grabbed the panties, and pulled them up, wedging them between her labia. She whimpered, crying softly.

"Pl... please... don't," she said, shaking. Teddy had always looked. Even patted her ass a few times, but he'd never done anything like this. She was beyond scared. Sarah had never felt so helpless in her life.

"Don't what? Do this?" he said calmly and mockingly. As he spoke, his finger trailed along her exposed sex, caressing it like a lover would, except he was no lover. He tugged and pulled the thong even deeper inside of her, turning her to face the wall. He leaned against her until Sarah pressed her hands against the wall to keep him from crushing her against it. When she heard his zipper, she started bawling.

"It's ok. Just stay there. Daddy's about to give you some attention."

Sarah expected him to shove it inside her. That would have been better. That would have been less humiliating than what he did to her. Teddy pulled the thong out of her briefly, then wrapped the thin fabric around his cock. He pulled the thong back up, pressing his cock against her twelve-year-old pussy lips. Teddy's dick see-sawed back and forth against her labia slowly while his free hand molested her small teats. Sarah felt so cheap, so worthless, so ugly as his cock ground against her while he felt her up. The only saving grace was that he didn't last long. She felt a pulse, then a warmth, as he came against her thong. Thick white jism pushed through the fabric before dripping to the floor. Teddy tugged the filthy thong inside her as he pulled out, then gently kissed her on the cheek as she cried hysterically.

"There. See, I'll always be happy to give you all the attention you want. I promise." With that said into her ear, he left, shutting the door behind him. Sarah stood facing the wall for a long time before slowly stepping away. Her breathing hitched as she numbly walked to her bed and sat down. She stared for long minutes at nothing, then pulled off the soiled thong and threw it in the trash. It wasn't cute. It wasn't pretty. It was ugly. Ruined. Like her.

She would never wear anything pretty again. Even so, her future stepfather would give her more attention than she could have ever wanted. For him, ruining her made her pretty, and she would be gorgeous to him in the end.

 

Chapter 53: Take your medicine

Summary:

A father gives her daughter medicine every night, even if she doesn't really need it.

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TAKE YOUR MEDICINE

"But Daddy," she told me. "I don't like my medicine. It makes me drowsy, and my mouth tastes funny in the morning." She pouted then, looking adorable in her limited defiance. It just made me want her all the more. Instead, I leaned down, kissed her forehead, and pinched her chubby cheeks.

"I know, honey, but don't you want to get better? Nothing is more important than being healthy. So be a big girl and take your meds for Daddy," I said to her. She sighed, already giving up after her token resistance. It was a dance we did most nights. The same fight as getting her to brush her teeth or clean up her room at night. The only difference is that those things were good for her. She didn't know the truth about the first. 

My daughter was perfectly healthy. Indeed, she was fit and growing like a weed, in all honesty. She had blossomed into a beautiful flower, and I? I had been smitten with that flower—the scent of it, the silky smoothness, and the growing buds on her chest. I loved all of her.

At first, I snuck in just to take a peek. I always came in to kiss my daughter good night, but one evening, not long ago, I found her tossing and turning. It was a hot, humid night, and my little girl had kicked off her blankets. I was treated to the sight of her sex, illuminated by her night light. I leaned over but didn't kiss her forehead as I usually did. I sniffed her, my fingers grazed her cunny, and for the first time, I masturbated while thinking about my daughter.

After that, I became compulsive. Almost every night, I touched her, I smelled her, and I stole her panties and returned them washed. I knew she wouldn't understand. I knew she was a good girl. I didn't want to steal that from her. But I couldn't stop myself either. And then, one night, I just started masturbating over her, thinking about fucking her when she woke. I raced to the living room, my heart pounding, as I heard her sleepily go to the bathroom, unaware her father's cock had been inches from her face just a moment earlier. It was too close. I had to stop. Or I had to find a solution.

I didn't stop.

She got sick a few days later. Just a minor cold. It made her whiny and cuddly. She wanted her Daddy to take care of her so bad. So I did. I gave her some nighttime cold medicine that knocked her right out. I started to get out of bed, and she was there, so limp. When I touched her, she didn't move. When I sniffed between her legs and tasted her for the first time, only the slightest exhale left her. I stripped naked and stroked my cock until I exploded all over my child. I cleaned her and briefly felt guilty. Briefly.

After that, she had to take her medicine. Sleeping pills that knocked her out all night long. Now, I don't have to stop. Now, Daddy can fuck her limp mouth and leave so much love for her in it. Anywhere else I cum on her, I clean up. I can't risk her getting pregnant. I can't leave evidence for her to find. She's a good girl. She needs to stay that way. But I still need to cum. That's what the medicine is for. First, the sleeping pills, then my cum. A daily treatment for my little angel and myself.

She'll never know, and what she doesn't know will never hurt her.

Chapter 54: Ain't life grand?

Summary:

An evil man explains all the reasons he loves little girls.

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AIN'T LIFE GRAND?

Lost little girls are the best. Always so confused when they recently moved to a new town. They get so easily turned around. It's even better when they move from a small town to the city. They are so much more trusting of strangers. When a man comes to them, asking if they are lost, they smile this perfect, beautiful smile. It's a look that says, "Yay, someone like Daddy is here to help me!". I'm sorry, little one, but I'm nothing like your Daddy. Not unless he's a very bad man. And I know he isn't. You're too trusting. Girls with bad dads don't trust men. But you did, didn't you? Don't worry, that's the last mistake you'll ever make.

Breaking little girls is the best. Seeing them wail, scream, and cry as you introduce them to so many things. They've never been punched, not by a man at least. Maybe a brother. When you hit their gut, their holes just clench is the most wonderful way around your cock. And those holes are so fresh! So pure! At least at the start. By the time I'm done with them, no one would think those ruined fuckholes were virginal. But that's ok. They have different uses after that. But fuck, I love those bruised thighs, teary eyes, and those snot-filled noses! God, it just makes me go harder on them. They've never been raped. They've never felt a cock in their tiny cunny or felt this ass rip apart. But they will. I'll see to that. Me and my friends have so much to teach girls like her. We'll teach her everything she'll ever need to know.

Whoring little girls is the best. They're prime meat, and you have far less worries about them causing trouble like the older cunts. They are too scared and so easily manipulated by praise. Either way works with them. Because you're all they have. Their family is gone. There is always some meaner fuck who would happily shatter their little bodies. Protect them just a tiny bit, and they'll cling to you in the storm that is their new whore life. They learn so fast what earns them pain, pleasure, and praise. They want their new Daddy, me, to love and protect them so much that they will do anything. Anything at all. Dogs, other little girls, rooms full of men. It's so fucking intoxicating to watch that innocent girl fade away and become just another burnt-out whore. Only this one will be used up by the time they become a teen.

All that and more awaits you. I'll teach you to never trust men again. I'll teach you to be an addict. I'm your father now. Your family. The only thing protecting you from the evil men that make me look like fucking Gandhi. But you'll behave. I'll be your Daddy. Then I'll be the father to your brats. They'll be whores by the time they're five. All because you trusted a stranger.

Ain't life grand?

Chapter 55: Married in all but name

Summary:

A daughter shares a secret love with her father.

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MARRIED IN ALL BUT NAME

Savannah looked up at her father as he pushed gently inside her. So many emotions swirled through the small child, but none were greater than love. Love for the burly man whose weight was pressing down on her with the greatest of care. Love for the father who protected her from all the bad things in the world. Love for the gentleman who was, in all ways that mattered, as much as her husband as he was her Dad. She smiled up at him as he returned the smile, grunting softly as he tenderly made love to his tiny daughter. An unspoken, forbidden bond that was shared only between them and no others.

Her mom had them for one reason or the other. Her father's answers on why she left varied, but none of them mattered. She was gone. She hadn't stayed. She didn't love her husband. She hadn't loved her child. But they had each other. Savannah knew of no moment in her life in which her father wasn't there for her. Guiding her hand, both against his body and through life, teaching her right from wrong, love from neglect. She knew so many things. Her teachers always told her how mature she was, older than her years. That she was so well-mannered and respectful. They praised the job her Dad was doing "despite the circumstances." And he was. They didn't know she was mature beyond their wildest dreams. They wouldn't understand. Few people understood true love, true devotion, and the act of giving oneself entirely to another. She'd done that for her Daddy, just as he had for her. Wedded, bonded, beloved, a sharing marital bliss, only between a father and his fragile little girl. Not wrong. So very right.

She moaned and bucked against the far older man, almost four times her age, as he began to pant, her tight cunny holding his meat fast. She knew he was about to fill her with love. The only proof she needed that their life was perfect and just. Savannah arched her slender frame and moaned as hot jism creamed her preteen insides, coating them. She only regretted that it wouldn't make her pregnant. Even now, she dreamed of it. Dreamed of a swollen belly, of moving to a new town, where her Daddy would marry his young "girlfriend," and they would start a new family of their own. She wouldn't leave like her mother had. She'd help teach their children. Show them what true love is. What it felt liked. What it meant. What it was supposed to be.

Then her father pulled out of her stretched cunny and fell beside her. She curled up against him, and Savannah kissed his cheek. He returned the kiss, holding her face as they slowly made out. They only broke their embrace when the alarm went off, signaling that she had to get up and get ready for elementary school. The bus would be arriving much too soon. She cleaned off her father's cock, then showered. As she dressed afterward, he kissed her deeply again before pulling down her skirt and then her panties. Slowly she helped him masturbate, stroking his cock, until white filled her pink panties, and he pulled them against her warm lips. She pulled up her skirt, kissed her lover goodbye, and went to wait for the bus while her father's cum kept her warm against the chill of the air, with everyone around her none the wiser.

Chapter 56: The restroom at the park

Summary:

A man goes into a restroom while out on a run and finds a special surprise waiting for him.

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THE RESTROOM AT THE PARK

She just appeared one day, some seven miles down the park trail, in the men's bathroom. It was far enough away that it was not frequented regularly. At least it didn't used to be. I walked in and found her naked, chained to a new bar bolted next to the toilet. She was a tiny thing, maybe a preteen, maybe just freshly a teen. It was hard to tell. Perhaps she had been malnourished as she was skinny enough to see her ribs. Maybe she came by that naturally. When I entered, she looked up at me. She tried to speak, but no intelligible sound came out. She was clearly exhausted, and I had a good guess as to why. Cum was puddled between her legs and had been drenched all over her naked body. I stiffened and looked around, expecting cops to jump me at any moment. But none came. 

Slowly, I approached the young girl and stroked her face. I had always told myself I was a good man. That I was a decent man. But the sight of her beautiful, heavily used body made me hard. I was filled with a lust I had never felt before in my life. I'd never looked at teens much, not the younger ones, and never anything younger. I'd never tried to hit on them. I'd thought men who had done such things disgusting. Even after my experiences with that strange teen, I'd never chase or lust after girls again. She was something unique. Something special.

She cried, I think, while I fucked her mouth. I'd never fucked a woman's mouth before, much less some unknown-aged child's. Never wanted to do it. I felt it was demeaning to women. I much preferred to watch it done entirely by them, with whatever energy they were willing to put into it. Blowjobs didn't come along every day for me, so whatever I got made me happy. But not with her. With her, I wanted to gag her. So I did until bile and spit ran down her chest. I wanted to choke her. So I did until her face turned purple. When I came, my legs almost buckled under me as I shot thick rope after rope of cream down the cunt's throat. When I backed up, she threw up much of it. Scared by my actions, I left.

I went back there later that night, and nothing was there. No evidence of any crime, just a pristine bathroom that reeked of bleach. If not for the bar, I would have believed it had been some insane fever dream. I expected to never see her again. Just two days later, however, I saw her. On impulse, I stopped at the same restroom. As I approached, I heard sounds of furious grunting and skin slapping on skin. I waited a moment before entering, hoping I wasn't walking in on two gay men. I wasn't. When I opened the door, the young girl was there again, being lifted up by her legs and brutally fucked against the wall. The man pounding the child barely glanced my way, then continued slamming her back against the wall, splitting her tiny cunt wide open. When he nutted in her, he shook, spat on her face, and then let her go. Chained as she was, she was helpless as she slammed against the wall, her head bouncing off of it, going limp as she hung there, gaping and leaking copious cum.

Much like last time, she looked up and tried to talk to me. This time, I noticed a small scar on her neck. I briefly wondered what had caused it. Was it a knife? Surgery? Was that why she didn't speak? Or was it the clear abuse her lips and mouth had suffered from multiple men? I didn't know. I didn't care. I gave voice to her with my own mouth, moaning in delight as I grabbed her hair and shoved my cock down her throat. I was even rougher this time. She wasn't a girl. She wasn't a woman. It was a receptacle. Nothing more. So much less. I slammed deep down the throat of the object. I felt it shudder and retch and puke. I punished it for that. I held its head down as it gargled and drooled and vomited more. I first emptied my balls, then my bladder down its throat. I stepped back and realized other men had quietly come in, waiting for their turn. I spit on it, then dressed and left it to its fate. 

Though I've returned to that spot many times, I never found that object again. I think of it all the time, however, and every time I pass that bathroom, I go inside, just in case. Hoping to find it, or perhaps, its daughter.

Chapter 57: Spoiled

Summary:

A teen doesn't get the car she wants for her birthday, and her anger about that will change her life.

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SPOILED

Every inch of skin of your body screams in pain. Every inch of you has been marked, bruised, or defiled repeatedly. You want to scream, but the dozens of cocks that have raped your throat have stolen your voice. You want to crawl away and curl up in a ball, but the repeated rapes have stolen all your energy. The most you can muster is a single tear down your face as you shiver in the cold in the alley. Waiting. Waiting for the next man to find you. 

All you had wanted was a new car. Jenny had gotten a new car. Allison had gotten a new car. You were sixteen, and you deserved a new car. Instead, you'd gotten a 2021 model. Your parents had sat there, all fucking smiles, acting like they'd done a good job, as they had handed you the keys to that old piece of shit. It wasn't even the top-of-the-line model. It was beyond embarrassing. It was humiliating. They actually had thought you'd be happy. It was a cruel joke. They even expected you to post that trash heap on your socials. Fuck that. You'd smiled, but you were furious. They were such fucking idiots. You stewed in your room until they had gone to sleep. Then, and only then, did you take the car out for a ride. A ride to the shittiest part of town, where you'd leave the key in it unlocked. It would disappear, you'd be sad, you'd be explicitly clear what car they should get you, and everything would be fine. You'd parked in a quiet part of town, gotten out, and started to call for an Uber, and that's when something hit you.

You're slowly dying. You hope, at least. You know you have internal injuries. Some of those bruises on your body are different. Darker. You've seen crime shows. Something is broken inside. Bleeding. Your stomach hurts so much you try to scream, but no sound comes out at all. You don't know if you're thankful or scared that your crotch is numb. You can't feel your pussy or ass anymore. You don't know if that is from shock or some more serious trauma. You scream again for your mommy. Your daddy. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. All you manage to do is shed another tear. The numbness is spreading. You barely feel cold anymore. And then, at the end of the alley, comes a new shadow moving towards you. Your silent screams only encourage them to move closer.

When you woke moments later, you were being dragged down an alley. Your head hurt, and everything spun so badly that you threw up on yourself. As soon as you started to talk, began to scream, someone punched you in the face. They let you go, and then more punches came. Your mouth, your nose, your forehead. As soon as you were utterly limp, they stripped you. You couldn't think. You'd never had a concussion before. You'd never had a cock, either. They bent you in half, put your knees by your ears, and fucked you into the ground while rough asphalt tore up your back.

You watched as the shadow moves closer now. No. Not a shadow. It was shadows. The men from before? New ones? You don't know. You try to crawl away, but all that effort gets you is one finger moving and another tear down your face. You hear their voices now. Laughter. Eagerness. You deserve better than this. Don't they know that? Why don't they know that?

The men had torn into you. After the first man, who had fucked you by himself, the rest had attacked you all at once. Multiple cocks were shoved in your pussy, ass, and down your throat. They jabbed your eyes with their dicks and shot cum up your nose. Your hands were forced to stroke while they raped you. And when they got bored, they beat you. They kicked your sides, stomped your gut, and one of them even took a running kick to your pussy. Their fists and feet smashed every part of you. Then someone kicked your head and everything had went black.

The shadows were all around you now. Stripping. Long weapons hang from their crotches. Other weapons shine in the moonlight from their hands. Your hand twitches as you try desperately to move. They smile. The biggest one grabs your legs and flips you onto your belly. More tears come. But no scream leaves your throat.

Sometime in between, more people came. Filthy people. Not gang members like before. Random men that all stank of booze and trash. They fucked your face and hit your head on the ground. They pissed on you. In you. You just took it. But one smelled so bad you threw up. Cum, bile, and vomit poured out of you. He called you trash. You! He screamed at you. Kicked you. You rolled over to protect yourself, and he jumped on you. Once. Twice. Then you felt agonizing pain. Then you felt nothing at all as you passed out.

The new shadows are just as gentle as the first. The man who flipped you over makes sweet, tender love to your asshole. He isn't tearing your guts apart. You don't smell your shit and blood. That is happening to someone else. Someone else's sphincter is ripping. Someone else is getting two cocks shoved up their shitter. Three. Someone else is suffering. You know it can't be you because you feel nothing. Not your feet. Nothing below your waist. Why is that? You feel there is some reason that should concern you, but you don't understand. Nothing makes sense anymore. They flip you over, and you see the shadows. They are bored. Why can't you feel anything? They beat you more. And more. Something shoves inside you. Multiple somethings. You can't see. You can't feel. And then, your vision focuses, and you see the bat. You watch it swing down. You finally talk.

"I want my mom."

"Mom"

"Mommy..."

And then you never talk again.

Chapter 58: That's a good piggy

Summary:

A father plays a very special, very private game with his daughter. It's a game of dress-up, earning love, and pretending to be a grown-up.

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THAT'S A GOOD PIGGY

"Mmmm, that's good, my little piggy. Fuck, your tongue feels so good. I'm so proud of you. You're so pretty there with Mommy's lipstick smeared all over your face. You look so grown up with her eyeliner. You're so perfect with that snot running out of your nose and our pitbull's collar around your neck. Just like Daddy said you would. You believe me now, don't you?"

"Yes, of course, you do, my perfect little piggy. I told you Daddy loved you. You just have to earn it. Good girls, sorry, good little piggies do whatever their Daddies ask them, especially if it's something secret. Something special, only shared between us. Now push that tongue inside Daddy. MMMM, fuck baby girl, that makes Daddy love you so much more."

"Yes, drool on my cock more. That's a good pig. Daddy loves you, you know that right. Smear it all over my dick and your face. You're so pretty now. This is what good pigs do for the special men in their lives. For the men they love and want to be loved by. You just have to remember, you never tell anyone about this. It wouldn't be special anymore. It would ruin it. Talking about it means you don't love me. You love me, don't you? Yes, I know you do. Now, stick your tongue in my ass some more."

"No, don't move, honey. Let him smell you. Ace just wants to know why you're wearing his collar. He's going to prove he loves you, just like you are proving you love me. Keep your tongue in me. Don't stop no matter what. Daddy's close. Spread your whore legs, piggy! Let him lick you. Yes! Yes! YES!"

"Shhh... Shhh... it's ok, baby girl. It's ok. I know. I know. It's scary. It hurts. I know it hurts. It's called knotting, little piggy. But it means he loves you. You're just stuck together right now. It's ok. Your tears are so pretty. You look so grown up and mature with Daddy's love all over your face. No, no, don't be silly. Little piggies can't have puppies. Ace can't get you pregnant. Daddy is gonna take some pictures now. Can you be a big girl and smile? I know it hurts, but Daddy would love you so much more if you smiled big. Daddy will kiss your special place so much if you do. That's it. That's a big girl. I love you so much, baby girl."

"Mmmm, your tiny cunny is so pretty, my baby piggy. It's so red and open and full of Ace's love for you. Daddy loves you just as much, and he's gonna show you now. You like that, don't you? Does it make you tingle? I know it does. It makes all good girls tingle with love. This is what love is, baby girl. This is love that only a Daddy can have for his angel. Never tell anyone, though, or that ends the love, and Daddy doesn't want the love to ever end. Do you? I know you don't. Keep this between us, and it never will. Now, shush, baby girl. Time for Daddy to eat his little piggy. I love you."

Chapter 59: Let me show you a picture

Summary:

A woman talks about why she misses her father so much.

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LET ME SHOW YOU A PICTURE

Have you ever wondered how you got to where you are in life? Thought, I wonder what moment was the most pivotal and crucial in forming who you are today? I think most of us do, and many of us know the answer to it. We can point to this great teacher, their shitty parent, that car accident, or a great job offer. Sometimes, we have no idea at all. And sometimes, not only do we know, but we have more than just our memories of it, but a record of it as well.

My father had recently died. I loved him with all my heart. I hated him with every fiber of my being. But most of all, I missed him. My mom never understood that. I think she hated me for that. I don't know how much she knew about what went on. No matter what, she suspected. She asked me as I cried how I could miss him. After everything he'd done to "the family." She said "the family" after a long pause. Like she wanted to say something else but couldn't bring herself to. Maybe she blamed herself. I don't know. All I could say, with a whisper, was that no matter what, I loved him.

You probably don't understand why, either. I already know what you're going to say. He raped me. He molested me. He groomed me. He was a sick fuck who deserved to be castrated and put in jail. You probably think it's good that he is dead. I mean, I already said I can point to why I'm like this. But who is that?

So I'll tell you since I can't tell my mom. Since neither of us wants to have that conversation. I'm an OnlyFans girl. I do most everything. Only my mom still acknowledges me. The rest of the family asks that I "don't come by." I've been fucking men my whole life, and I don't mean just my father. He never shared me. But I fucked my first man other than him at 8. I was popular at school. I got kicked out of college. One video got very popular, but it was clear who I was and where I was on campus. The professor lost his job as well. I'm hypersexual. I'm impulsive. I'm self-destructive. All or much of that is probably due to my Dad. It's all I know. It's all I want. Thanks to him, for good and bad, it's who and what I am.

So, I should hate him, right? I do sometimes. When my life spirals. When I wake up, hungover, bruised and bloodied. Most of the time, I don't. Most of the time, I remember how he loved me. Fuck, I miss that love. I know you call it abuse, but it was the most honest thing I ever had in my life. Here, let me show you a picture. He took lots of them. Videos, too, all throughout my life. Up until my mom made him go away. But I found them. I have them all. Sometimes I think about destroying them, but I don't. As far as I know, he never shared them with anyone. Just to remember our good times by. But never mind, back to this picture. Here, look at it.

I know. You see proof of child abuse from the very start of my life. I understand that. But do you know what I see? I see a happy child. I see a happy baby girl photographed by her loving Dad. Yes, my pacifier isn't in my mouth. But am I crying? Am I screaming for "Daddy" to stop? No. Look through all my videos. All my photos. Every one will look the same. At one, at two, at twelve, at fifteen. In every one of them, I'm happy. I'll never be that happy again. I'll never be that loved again. That's why I miss him. That's why I hate him. 

I carry that picture in my purse. It's the most beautiful I've ever been. The most innocent. Yes, even with the pacifier in my cunny. That's why I'm here now. Getting fucked abusively by strangers. Whoring myself online. You think it's because my Dad ruined me. You think it's because of a lifetime of sexual abuse. You're so fucking wrong.

I do what I do because I'm acting out. I do what I do because I'm hurting. I do what I do not because I was loved too much by my father. I do it because I'll never have that love again.

I just miss my Daddy.

Chapter 60: Gold star

Summary:

A teacher helps his small student do her very best in class, helping her earn all the gold stars she can.

NEW! - I've expanded this short, adding multiple chapters. The entire story so far can be found here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/64199149/chapters/164756674

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GOLD STAR

"That's good, Sally, just like that. Mmm... see, that's why you always get the gold stars. You're the best student in the class. No, in the school!" Mr. Stephenson told the kindergartener as she stroked his cock. She was such a beautiful, eager, and neglected child. So desperate for approval. He knew about her mother. A lazy bitch with a drinking problem. No husband, there was no father figure in the tiny girl's life. It was like life had gift-wrapped Sally just for him to enjoy.

She wasn't the first girl he'd played with in his classroom, though such opportunities came few and far between. Never before had he had someone so easily malleable and eager, though. Normally, he would have to spend weeks slowly manipulating the child, grooming and praising them to do what he wanted. Sally wasn't like that. She was beyond naive. Beyond innocent. He was her teacher, so clearly he loved her. Clearly, he wanted the best for her. Which he did. He also wanted to fuck her.

He hadn't gotten to that point, however. He was taking things slow with the girl. So eagerly stroking his cock. So eagerly lapping at his lollipop. The girl truly loved his candy. Devoured it. And every time she did, she got another gold star. She had more gold stars than the rest of the class combined. She was very proud of that. Very.

Right now, it was all he could do to focus. The small girl was between his legs, under his desk, devouring his cock better than most whores he'd paid for. It was all in the attitude he felt. She wanted this. She loved this. She loved the praise he gave her. She loved seeing him put another star on the wall for her. She sucked his head, and he started to tense. He grabbed the slender child's head and pushed it down a bit, fucking it briefly before pushing her back. He exploded all over her face and set his cock on her tongue, milking out thick globs of jism onto it. He rested and looked at her. She was happy. Not disgusted. So fucking happy. He reached down, pulled up her shirt, and played with her nipples.

"Stick your tongue out. Let me see it. I have to grade how well you hold it in that position. You're such a good girl, Sally! You're the best student I've ever had. I mean it. Just don't tell the other kids, or they'll get jealous. They already know you're my favorite!" he told her. He didn't worry as she slightly nodded, her tongue stuck out while cum dripped from her face onto her tiny chest. He couldn't wait to fuck her. He would talk to her mom about how exceptional her daughter was. That he wanted to tutor her privately. Maybe even move her up a grade. Maybe take her on some field trips. Of course, her poor alcoholic mom wouldn't have to pay for those. The "school" would take care of that. It would work. It always worked.

He watched as the five-year-old slowly shoved all his cum in her mouth and swallowed it all like it was the bestest candy in the whole world. She loved her candy. He loved giving her all the candy she could take. Sally gulped and showed him her empty tongue. He couldn't help himself, so he pulled her up and kissed her deeply. It was a long, lingering kiss that he had never given her before. She looked stunned, breathless, and confused. He brushed her hair aside and kissed her nose gently.

"Sally, I love you. Can you keep that a secret? Do you love me?" Mr. Stephenson asked. 

"Yes!" she said, her face still sticky as she hugged her teacher. He hugged her tightly in return, smiling to himself, before cleaning her up. The class would be coming back soon. He returned her to her seat while she smiled, beaming at him.

It was going to be a wonderful school year.

Chapter 61: Some problems take care of themselves

Summary:

A man who should be having the worst day of his life keeps winning, to the detriment of all others.

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SOME PROBLEMS TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES

You ever have those days where everything goes your way? It's like that old Twilight Zone episode where the guy tosses a coin to pay for a paper, and it lands perfectly on its edge. After that, everything went his way. Today was that day for me. It started with work. My boss had been riding me at my shit job for weeks. It's fucking fast food, who gives a fuck? Well, I guess he did. He decided that he could scream at me. He thought he was allowed to cuss me out. I taught him the error of his way. I decked the son of a bitch, knocked him on his ass, tossed my apron on him, and started to leave. 

Now, usually, that would get me in the lockup for the night or more, cops called on me, but life intervened. He got up, screaming about how he was gonna make me pay when he slipped on a grease spot. Fucker hit his head on the counter, then slammed it on the floor. Blood everywhere. I didn't cause it, so I left. I sat across the street, still expecting the cops, basically waiting for them, but only an ambulance came. And well, my old boss, he was wrapped in plastic when they took him away.

I decided I had pushed my luck enough and started to head home. That was my plan, honest to god. Nothing sinister cooked up, but well, I live in a shitty trailer park. Most of us have had a hard life, and well, a lot of us are fucking crooks. I was gonna mind my business. All I wanted to do was go home. But that cunt had to ruin everything, just like my boss. I walked into my trailer, and it was trashed, fucking wrecked. And there she was, Amanda. Fucking hot teen, but she's a tweaker. Give her her "meds," and she'll do plenty for you. I didn't have any good, though, and that cunt, in her relapse-fueled frenzy, had torn my place apart looking for drugs. Clearly, she had expected me to be at work. Sadly, for her, I wasn't.

"What the fuck are you doing, you stupid bitch?" I screamed at her. She panicked and bolted for the door, but tweakers all had one thing in common. They are fucking twigs. I picked up that addict and hurled her across the room. You gotta be careful with them, tho. They can be strong. She was never a smart one, though. Probably cause her dad beat her all the time, among other things. He was the one who'd gotten her hooked. Started whoring her out. She was prime meat for a while. Then, like all meth heads, she was just burnt-out trash. I got her early on, thankfully, but now? Now, she was just pathetic.

"Please, please, please," she said, her eyes wild and her voice rapid. I just... please, I need a fix. I'll be good. I'll clean everything up. No charge," she muttered. I didn't care. After this morning, I wasn't in the mood. I walked over and kicked the bitch in the head, and that was that. She pissed herself, went limp, and I went to get some things.

When she woke up, well, she wasn't happy. You have to gag them, or they'll bring the heat down on you. I'm not sure what pissed her off the most. The fact that I'd stripped her, the fact that I'd strussed her up so she couldn't hurt me, or the fact that she still hadn't gotten her fix. Since she was a tweaker, I'd have bet on the latter. She screamed and screamed into that gag while I mounted the useless bitch and took her ass. No lube. Tweakers don't get lube. I reamed the shit out of her ass, literally, get it? I pounded that ass until the only thing I saw was bloody brown before I unloaded in it. I beat her some more while she was there. Why the fuck are women so pretty when they are crying? Especially when they get really scared. Suddenly, they aren't a gagged fifteen-year-old tweaker. Suddenly, they sound like that little girl you found once. The one that no one else ever found. Just fucking perfection.

After that, I cleaned up some. Then I dragged the bitch to the shower, hosed her off, and told her that if I felt teeth, she'd never have teeth again. I showed her the pliars to make sure she understood. She did. She cried a lot, but she had that "I give up" look that so many cunts get. Ones from happy homes don't get that look. Only the ones from homes where their daddies drug them, whore them, and rape them on the regular. She got me hard, but it was so fucking unenthusiastic. I wanted her cunt this time. I knew I shouldn't go raw again, but I couldn't help it. If she didn't have an STD by now, she would soon, most likely. And I'd had most of them myself. I shoved in that dry cunt, but not too dry. Her body knew the routine. Wet is best. I beat her as I fucked her over the toilet. I've always loved shoving their heads in. Flushing it. Shoving it down again. Better if the toilet starts full of shit, but she was lucky today. I nutted as I donkey-punched her. Hadn't done that to a skank in years.

It had been a good day, though. I dealt with my boss. Dealt with a thief. I still had to figure out what to do with her, though. I walked over and realized she hadn't moved in a long while. Maybe I had already solved that problem. She was still warm, too.

So my day kept coming up roses. I couldn't lose. I just needed to nut one more time before I took out the trash. Then, I just had to clean up my place. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was a whole different fucking day.

Chapter 62: He only needed one

Summary:

Two little girls sneak off from their parents while at the park, only to be kidnapped by a man who only needs one of them.

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HE ONLY NEEDED ONE

Tara sobbed in agony and terror as she stared at her bestest friend in the whole world, Becca. Her eyes were glassy and blank, and bright red blood flowed from a tiny hole in the middle of her head and from underneath it. She whimpered Becca's name again and again and struggled against her bonds so she could shake her friend awake. She had to be ok. She had to be. The acrid stink of gunfire burned her nose, and her ears still rang from the shot that had just been fired. Becca had twitched and then just stopped, staring blankly at her. She had been so happy earlier at the park. They had been playing and laughing and had snuck down to the creek to find crawdads. And then, everything had gone wrong.

It had happened in an instant. One second, the two girls were hunched over the water, lifting up rocks to see what they could find. The next, a towering man had come up on them quickly, touched them each with a black box that made them collapse, unable to move, and had taken them away. Once in the van, he'd driven for maybe fifteen minutes before he stopped for the first time.

That was when they still had hope. That maybe the bad man would hurt them and let them go. They'd heard stories, of course. They'd been warned about strange men in vans offering them candy. They'd been good girls. They'd never even seen him come close. None of that had mattered.

He had taped both of their mouths and bound their hands behind them. He didn't strip Becca. He'd simply pulled up her shirt, down her pants, and tore a hole in her shorts leggings she'd had under them. The man never said a word to them. Never threatened them. He just beat Becca, punching, choking, and slapping her around as he abused her body. Tara had screamed helplessly as her friend's nipples were pinched and pulled, as the monster beat Becca's face bloody. He punched her stomach again and again, and then, he pulled out his penis and shoved it inside her friend. Tara thought he had killed her with it somehow at first. Becca had screamed and screamed and screamed through the tape as the man pushed his thing inside her, and then, after a few minutes, she just went quiet, limp, and stopped struggling. The man shoved her knees by her head and just pumped inside her, and then suddenly he'd shook and pulled out. White and red leaked from her best friend's special place, and Becca had just curled up, sobbing softly. Alive but clearly hurt.

After that, the man went back to drive again. No matter what grunts or sounds Tara made, Becca never looked at her. She seemed spaced out as she stared at the wall, sniffling occasionally. Maybe thirty minutes later, the man had pulled over again. This time, he went after Tara.

Unlike her friend, She had only worn a light blouse, skirt, and panties. He tore all her clothes up, mostly ripping them away, until she was only left with a shred of each on her. Then, like he had done with Becca, he started beating Tara. There were no demands. No orders. He just punched, kicked, and slapped her. Blood leaked from her cheek where it had scrapped the rusted floor. Her back and ass were beaten until she could barely breathe. He even hit and abused her thighs and feet. Only then did he spread Tara's legs and do to her what he had done to Becca. She didn't have to watch him, though. She watched her friend, still staring off, as pain erupted from her special place. She felt like she was being ripped apart as the man's weight crushed her, slamming inside her, ruining her, killing her. She knew she was dying. What else could hurt so much? He pushed deep inside her and finally, after hitting her a few more times, peed inside her. At least, she assumed that's what he did. She felt warmth fill her. When he pulled out, the pain and cramps didn't go away. He left them both there to cry and drove off again, this time for hours.

They had cried in silence. They fell in and out of sleep. He stopped once more and abused them both. Punching, choking, slapping, and even kicking and stomping them. He shoved his thing in Becca again. This time, she barely reacted besides crying. For some reason, that made the man furious, and he beat her even more. Eventually, he pulled out of her and shoved himself inside Tara. Her cries seemed to excite him because he finished quickly and then punched her in the face. Tara's head hit the floor hard, and everything had faded away.

When Tara woke, she didn't know how long it had been. Things were confusing. The inside of the van seemed to move wrong, and she even threw up once. That pushed the tape off her mouth, at least, but even when she tried to talk to Becca afterward, her friend said nothing. She just stared ahead and said nothing.

Eventually, the van stopped after driving on something extremely bumpy for a long time. It came to a rest, and Tara expected another beating and attack. Instead, the man got out of the car, then pulled the little girls out, and dumped them on the floor. Tara saw twin trails of blood and white stuff leaking from their private places and was terrified. She begged the man to let them go until he hit her while Tara just stared at the ceiling. Finally, standing over them, the man spoke for the first time.

"I only wanted one cunt, but I couldn't let the other go crying to Mama," the giant beast of a man told them. "Tell you what," he said as he knelt over Tara, "should I give your friend here her freedom from me? I'll make sure she never hurts again. I promise," he told Tara. She looked over at Becca, just staring and crying occasionally, and then back at the scary man. He had promised. She loved her friend, so she nodded slowly. Even that movement made the room spin.

"Please, yes," Tara said. For a brief moment, she was happy that at least her bestest friend in the world would be safe. Would be free. Then the man had gotten up, aimed the gun at Becca, and fired. She'd twitched once, and that was it. Tara had screamed.

Her scalp burned as the gun was pushed to her head. She didn't know why her friend wasn't moving. Why there was so much blood. Then she noticed the neat hole in her head leaking blood. Even at just six years old, she knew what that meant. It meant that Becca was gone forever. Still, she tried to get free, to shake her awake, desperate to be wrong. The man breathed on her neck, then kissed Tara's cheek.

"Don't worry," he told her. "I won't ever do that to you. No matter how much you beg, and you will, I won't ever kill you. I promise."

With that, he dragged Tara away from her unmoving friend and into his cabin. Down into his locked basement and into a hidden room, secreted away from the world. Despite many, many years of begging, the man kept his word, and no one ever found Becca's body or saw Tara ever again.

Chapter 63: They taught her more than her parents ever did

Summary:

A teen girl grows up mentored not by her parents but by the loving and totally not manipulative men online that she encounters.

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THEY TAUGHT HER MORE THAN HER PARENTS EVER DID

It wasn't as if her parents didn't love her. They did, she figured, in their own way. They were just busy with their careers, the younger children, their hobbies, and their lives. That was fair, she could acknowledge now. But it hurt when she was younger. Always forcing her to take care of her siblings, ignoring her as they ran about, and always focusing on everyone but her. She had to be the adult. She had to be the backup parent. She had to grow up by the time she was twelve. 

Maturity wasn't the only thing that came early to her. Puberty did as well. By the sixth grade, she already had B cups, but they were swelling more. By the time she got to high school, she could pass for a college student with the right makeup and clothes. She was mature in every way, including ones that her parents would have never imagined.

Swamped with too many bills, too many kids, and too much work, they never focused on what she was doing when she wasn't watching her brothers and sisters. No one worried what she was up to. She was the "good" kid. Such a fantastic role model. No one noticed she was depressed. No one noticed that she was alone in a house full of family members. No one noticed when she went online, trying to find people to chat with. Her school friends were too carefree. Too immature. They had no idea of the struggles she was going through. They lived lives too different from hers to understand. But people online did. Certain people. Certain men. Men who were all too happy to talk to her.

She didn't even realize as it was happening. The subtle manipulations, the leading questions, and the soft interrogations that led her to tell them so much about herself. She would understand what happened now if she had thought about it hard, but she didn't. Because now, she didn't care. Her parents were never there for her, but they had been. Her parents never told her how beautiful she was, but they had. Her parents never taught her to love herself, but they did. They taught her how to feel good. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. Biased in how they wanted her to think and feel, of course. But they never lied to her. The things they had her do to herself made her feel good. She was scared when she sent them pictures and later videos, but they made her feel pretty and beautiful afterward. They taught her that she should never feel ashamed of how she felt or what she wanted. Since, of course, what she wanted was what they had taught her to enjoy.

She fucked her first classmate at thirteen in her room just so they could watch it. They had helped her pick out the high schooler and had told her what to expect. They reminded her to protect herself. They told her that he likely wouldn't love her, want to date her, and might even tell other boys about her. But they told her it would feel good. So much better than her fingers. And it did. It felt so good as he thrust inside her. It felt so good as she wrapped her legs around him. It felt so good to eat his cum from the condom. She knew her online friends would love that. What she didn't expect was how much she did to. And he did talk, of course. Boys always do. That's how she got to meet all his friends, eventually.

She didn't leave her online friends behind, however. The real cocks were nice, but they were still boys, and she only loved her men. She simply waited, showing them everything they asked for, feeling loved in return. She suffered her parents and her siblings, doing everything that they asked. They didn't question her "library" visits or why she was so tired after them. They didn't question why she locked her door and turned the music up at night. They never asked why her room always smelled of air freshener. They didn't ask, they didn't care, as long as she was their "good" girl who did whatever they asked of her.

But soon, she was going to be eighteen. Soon, she would be a different kind of "Good Girl." Soon, she wouldn't only be chatting online with her men. They had told her everything that she needed to do. They had given her tickets, money, and all the support she needed. With their help, she already had a Discord ready to go. She only had to wait until her eighteenth birthday, and she could open an Onlyfans. She would disappear from her parents and siblings and finally be free to be the woman that her online men had made her. 

Nothing but another eager teen whore, addicted and in love with her bad men online.

Chapter 64: Anything for an A

Summary:

A smart girl failing a math class does what she feels she needs to do to get an A.

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ANYTHING FOR AN A

She lay there on the desk, the cool air chilling her body as she stared blankly at the wall. The clock ticked impossibly slow, each movement of its second hand taking minutes to change position. A clump of jism slowly slid from between her legs until it hit the floor with a thick plop, reinforcing what sickening act had just happened here. What she had done. What had been done to her. A tear ran down her cheek, but she didn't cry. Instead, she lay there quietly in shock, with only disgust for herself.

Amanda had always been an A student. She'd always been a pretty, athletic, smart, and talented girl. School had always come easy to her, as had popularity and friends. That had lasted through elementary, middle school, and most of the way through high school. Only then did she start to stumble. Not in most classes. Only math. She dreamed of being an engineer. So she pushed herself harder and harder, getting tutors, and only struggled more and more. She realized after her midterms that she wouldn't be graduating with honors, most likely. She was failing Calculus. She couldn't grasp it, and her bright college future was fading fast.

But Amanda was smart. She saw how her Calculus teacher looked at her. How he looked at all of his female students. She hated him because he seemed to have contempt for her and any of the prettier girls in the class, clearly favoring the boys. But he stared at them. Leered at her. She was desperate. She couldn't get an F. She needed her scholarships. She needed to graduate with honors. She needed... she needed to do whatever it took to get an A in that class.

He had ignored her when she'd come up to his desk after class, everyone else eager to leave for the day. It took several long moments before he even acknowledged her waiting there for him. He'd been brusque, asking what she wanted, like it was a burden having to deal with her. She had struggled to open her mouth, to say the words she'd rehearsed a thousand times. It was all she could do not to cry as she spoke them.

"Mr. Anderson... I... I know I'm failing this class. I'm trying hard, and I'll keep trying, but... is there anything I can do to get you to give me an A? A... Anything?" She trembled as the words came out. While there were many teachers at the school that the girls swooned for, Mr. Anderson wasn't one of them. He was a short, sweaty, fat man who always smelled just a bit off. He slowly grinned as the words fell out of her mouth before standing up and shutting the door, locking it.

"God, I hate girls like you. Coasting by on good looks and popularity. I wonder how many A's you've earned this way," he asked. When Amanda told him she hadn't, he slapped her and shoved her on a desk. She yelped as he tore open her blouse and then removed her bra, tossing it on his desk.

"Please..." was all Amanda was able to force out before he slapped her again, even harder this time. She winced as her teacher spat on her face.

"Don't fucking try to deny it," he told her as he shoved up her skirt and ripped her leggings before pulling his cock free. "You worthless cunts are all the same. You think you're so special, but look at you now," he said as he lined up his cock and painfully shoved it in his student. Amanda tried to scream, but he covered her mouth and slammed her repeatedly against the desk as he started fucking her. There was nothing gentle in the act. It was rough, as she was dry. Every thrust was sandpaper inside her, and it felt like he was tearing her sex apart. He alternated between slapping, choking, and spitting on her. It wasn't sex. It was use. Pure and simple.

Amanda wasn't a virgin. She was very popular and had needs and wants like any other teenager. But this wasn't like anything she had experienced before. This wasn't like those clumsy, horny, drunk encounters. There was no passion. No lust. She had expected maybe being forced to give a blowjob. Maybe some mechanical sex. She hadn't expected to be hit or spat on. The hate in his eyes froze her as he rutted inside her. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel human. She didn't feel pretty. She felt like a hole. Nothing more. Her teacher didn't last long inside her, thrusting deep until he came inside her. He pulled out, wiped his cock on her clothes then started to leave.

"You'll get your A. After you come visit me after class a few more times," he'd told her, laughing as he left and shut the door.

She lay there, time not moving, for nearly fifteen minutes. Finally, she slowly got up, unable to even cry. She noticed her bra was gone. Mr. Anderson had taken it when he'd left her lying there. She went home and showered under hot water until her skin was pink. It did nothing to help her feel clean.

Amanda would graduate, as she wanted, with honors. But she'd never graduate or even go to college. A swollen belly saw to that. She never told anyone who the father was, though, on occasion, Mr. Anderson would stop by to visit. He'd give her a second and a third child eventually. People would whisper about the girl who once had a bright future but was now just another unwed mom. Just another slut, sleeping around, unable to keep her legs shut, probably fucking men for money.

Or maybe, just an A.

Chapter 65: A gift for Ted

Summary:

A young woman decides to encourage the man she loves by giving him the one thing he'd probably never touch.

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A GIFT FOR TED

Sometimes, you have to slow walk them. They are men, after all, the more thickheaded of the two sexes. But they have power, especially if they know how to wield it. Ted did. With women. He liked damaged girls with long histories because he knew what that resulted in. But deep down, he was a nice guy. A nice guy who enjoyed trauma sluts and broken whores. Nothing wrong with that. Most men like women like that. And, we like being enjoyed. It's the only time we feel normal. The only time we feel safe. The only time we feel "right." It might sound fucked up, and it probably is, feeling secure while you're being called names and used like the cheapest cunt on the planet, but we do. Our brains tell us that it is love. Affection. It's validation, liquid, physical, and mental, drenched all over our bodies and seasoned with abuse. It's divine, but I digress.

Ted, despite being into some amazingly kinky and rough shit, would never harm the unwilling. Oh, he'd leave my back covered in welts, my mouth bloody, and happily fuck me while I slept from sheer over-exhaustion. But he knew that I was willing. That I needed it. That I felt closer to him when he raped and abused me. He knew that language, even if he'd only ever enjoyed a trauma slut, and never created one. But I'll tell you a secret. If you enjoy hitting women, choking them out, fucking them, and leaving them sobbing and bleeding, even if they ask for it, you'd enjoy it if they didn't as well. It's an imaginary line they put in place to tell themselves that they aren't a monster. That they are giving us "what we need," nothing more. It allows them to continue the game without feeling bad for getting hard when they see blood leaking from our noses. Because we're willing and want it, right?

Notice, though, that they never try to fix us. Oh, they might try reigning in our worst self-destructive tendencies. Keep us from spiraling out of control, but trying to fix any of our root issues? No, there's no fun in that. That's our responsibility, not theirs. They are good guys, though. They're just "helping" us vent. It's a service, really. A kindness. Seriously, you can watch their fucking gears churn to justify everything and still be the "hero" in their adventure through life. It's cute sometimes, even. Sometimes. But it means I have to play the villain. I don't like that. I need a willing partner. One who I can fully open up to. One who I don't have to lie to. One I can be fully honest with. And when men like Ted play the sweetly abusive white knight, I can't do that.

See, Ted loves to "rape" me while I tell him about my Daddy. He loves folding me up, making me small, and fucking my cunny. He loves hearing me tell him how I was seven years old the first time my Daddy loved me. How I was nine the first time Daddy shared me with several of his friends. Ten when his buddy repeatedly raped me while Dad was at work. His favorite, though, was when, confused about my place in the world, I ran away at eleven. I was gone for a month before a random drug bust found me in the corner, coked up, fucked out, taking care of five to ten men a day. I never left Daddy again. I was a good girl after that. I fucked him and his buddies with abandon. I made plenty of movies. And dear old dad made sure my nose candy was available. I was so much more eager when high.

Ted loves hearing all about that. Especially when, just a couple years later, I got pregnant. I know she's my father's. I had her tested last year, not long before he passed away. I gave birth to my half-sister. You might think that's fucked up, but the type of men I know? It just makes them hard. She's my little me. My little clone. I love her more than life itself. And like my father, I need to show her that love. Only, I'm much more gentle. She is tiny still, after all.

Ted, though? Ted probably wouldn't understand that. He still wants to play the good guy. So, he hasn't seen me part my angel's legs and kiss her. I kiss her goodnight like that most nights. She tells me it tickles before she starts to whimper and moan. She's so fucking delicious. We play together naked lots, cuddling, kissing, and using toys that vibrate against our special places. Stupid fucks would tell you I'm grooming her, but we're bonding. Special mother/daughter bonding time. Sisters bonding and sharing a love that most will never understand.

Most. I think Ted will. Men are weak, after all.

I do love him. He's not wrong when he tells me that he gives me all that I need. He understands damaged goods like few men I've ever met. He understands the good and the bad. The highs and the lows. But he still thinks he is a good guy. Which makes me the bad guy. So lately, we've been watching movies together. The old ones that my Daddy made of me. He loves them. He loves pretending that I'm that age again. Nothing makes him cum harder. But it's time for him to cross that imaginary line of his. It's time for him to join me. It's time to make him truly understand. I have to do this. I love him. And my little girl? Well...

"Ok, we've got your surprise ready, Ted! Come on in the room!" I can see when the door opens that he is shocked. I can see the flight response kick in. His brain is telling him to go. That if he stays, he'll never be able to keep up the facade that he's a good guy again. But I see the swelling in his pants. My angel squirms a bit beside me. I'm dressed in black, her in white, as if either of us could be called "dressed." Both collared. Both of us waiting to be loved, even if my little sister-daughter doesn't know what that means. I smile at Ted and point at my naked child, offering her to him.

"Ted?" I ask carefully. "Don't you think it's time you became her Daddy?" He freezes for a moment, then smiles. My daughter, my child, my sister, will soon start screaming. Ted won't treat her gently like I have. Ted knows how broken girls are made. And I will be there, every step of the way, helping him. Encouraging him. It's what family is for.

Chapter 66: She never spoke again

Summary:

Two orderlies make a late-night visit to a young woman in a mental institution, enjoying the fruits of her trauma.

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SHE NEVER SPOKE AGAIN

"Here's her room," the older orderly said as he unlocked the door, glancing up and down the deserted hallway before quickly waving the new guy in. "See, just like I told ya," he told the institution's latest hire. "Cute, ain't she?"

Steve looked around the dark bedroom, still unable to believe what was happening. He had thought everything his mentor had told him was bullshit, just testing him to see whether they should keep him or not. Steve still half believed he would be fired for simply letting himself be brought to the girl's room. But wouldn't this be taking it too far, he wondered? He glanced over at the bed, and in the gown was a beautiful young woman, slightly propped up by pillows, staring blankly straight ahead. Steve stepped in front of her field of vision, waved his hands, and noticed the complete lack of reaction.

"Are... are her eyes always open like that?" Steve asked. His trainer, Frank, shook his head no as he walked over to the vacant woman and pulled the blanket off her. Steve marveled at the curves and ample hips barely concealed by the thin green robe that thankfully hid nothing from his rapidly growing imagination.

"Nah, she closes them when she sleeps. She still does basic stuff, but it's like all automatic. If you carefully give her water, she'll swallow it. She'll eat if you put a spoon with food in her mouth. But otherwise, that's about it. She doesn't say anything or do anything other than stare off into space all the time. So, you know, it's safe to do things like this...," Frank told him as he pulled off her gown. It clearly hadn't been tied. Steve wondered briefly if anyone other than female nurses ever secured it.

"Holy fuck," the new guy muttered as Frank unveiled the catatonic girl's body. It was as stunning as he imagined. It was still slightly fit despite her years here. Soft. Her tits were nice and full, and someone had clearly trimmed her bush. Jesus, it looks inviting, Steve thought to himself. He drew closer and ran his fingers along her body. He expected her to twitch, to pull away, but she made no movement at all. Steve did notice that she had some scars. Spots that looked like cigarette burns and long lines that may have been knife cuts. But otherwise, physically, at least, she seemed to be a healthy young woman.

"Who is she?"

"That," Frank said, smiling as he watched his trainee slowly grope and molest the woman, "is the million-dollar question. I've got a copy of her police record. Cost me a hundred bucks, but it was worth it for the crime scene photo alone." He pulled out the picture and handed it to Steve, who gasped as he stared at the image, before telling him what little was known of the girl's history.

"So, we don't know any personal details. No name. No missing person report for anyone like her. We don't know her age, but the eggheads who treated her guessed she was maybe fifteen at the time. That was a two, maybe three years ago. They figured she was probably a runaway, hence the lack of a missing persons report. Possibly a street whore, especially considering the outfit they found her in, but there were no tattoo's that indicated sex trafficking.

"Is that an alley? She was found outside like that?" Steve asked as his cock hardened.

"Yep. She was found bound like that. She'd been clearly gang raped. They found over thirty DNA samples inside her holes. They'd had lots of fun with her before they had started torturing her. Shoving things in her. Multiple cigarettes were stubbed out on her. When they pumped her stomach, they found she'd had to eat some, along with other garbage and some literal shit. They even put out some inside her while still lit. She had severe rectal bleeding from the 2-liter bottle that was kicked inside her when they were done. They filled her cunt with trash and kicked it in her as well. Something huge, either a massive cock, sticks, or maybe a fucking baseball bat, who knows, was rammed inside her. They fucked up her ass so much she needed stitches and her pussy so much they had to give her a hysterectomy. The good news is, you can nut in her now with no worries of getting her pregnant.

"Holy fuck. I don't know if that is terrifying or hot as fuck. They must have destroyed her," Steve said, mesmerized as he groped her breasts and squeezed them hard, hoping to make her react. The girl simply stared ahead and made no sound or reaction.

"Oh, it's hot as fuck. They wrote all over her. Beat her. Turned her permanently into a fleshlight. I'd thank them personally if I could. Ain't a single night I work that I don't nut off in that bitch somehow. We all do. Security guards, orderlies, even a couple of the MD's. We all watch out for one another. Just don't leave marks on her, and clean up any mess when you're done. We don't need some uppity bitch nurse ending our fun. But her holes? They belong to us now. No one's ever claimed her, and likely, no one ever will. She's our property now," Frank said happily.

"C... can I?" the new guy asked as he pulled the blank woman's face over to his crotch.

"Oh yeah, go ahead. Sometimes, she even starts sucking you off. Not much, just a little tongue action, nothing else, but she knows what she's for. Touch that pussy, and you'll see what I mean."

"Oh my fucking god," Steve said, groaning as his fingers dipped smoothly into the wet slit that was the catatonic girl's cunt.

"Yeah. Just remember to lube her ass if you want that. But her pussy? Never need any for that hole. You can even get your fist up in that shit," Frank said as he pushed the new guy towards her head again. "You enjoy her top. I got first dibs," he said as he parted the girl's legs, pulled down his scrubs, and shoved his meat inside her sopping hole. Steve grabbed the blank-eyed girl's head and started face-fucking it. Even when he cut off her air, she barely made a sound. They raped her twice that night and even high-fived a security guard as they left, watching the guard enter her room after them on his break.

And for the girl? No one would ever come to claim her. No family would ever visit her as she lay there. She would never speak again. The staff's constant late-night visits for the rest of her life saw to that.

Chapter 67: Crack whores make the best mothers

Summary:

Tracy was dealt a rotten hand in life. Thanks to her addictions, her daughter, Emma, will get an even worse one.

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CRACK WHORES MAKE THE BEST MOTHERS

Life is a lottery. On top, you have the grand prize winners. Some are born to Presidents, royalty, and billionaires. Then you have the people who won big. Due to their parentage, they're set for life. Maybe they don't have their own yachts and mansions, but no matter what happens, money will never be a real concern of theirs. Then you have most people. Occasionally, they'll get a win, some small amount, but only enough to make it worth continuing to play. That's generally how life goes.

But have you ever gone to a gas station and seen the dregs of humanity buying scratchers with their baby's food money? That's the hand that little Emma was dealt. She never had a chance. It didn't matter how smart she was, how hard she would have worked, or how much natural talent she had for anything. Emma was never going to accomplish anything. That's just the hand her mom had dealt her.

Emma's mom, Tracy, had been the same way. She'd never had a chance, either. Her dad had seen to that. She was an alcoholic by the time she was eleven and an addict by the time she was thirteen. Crack is what really fucked her up. Whoring at fourteen, willing to do anything just to get her next fix. That's how she ended up having Emma at just fifteen years old.

Now, to give the crack whore credit, she tried to be a good mom. She tried to get clean, but she kept spreading her legs for money. That's how I first met Emma. Such a sweet little baby girl. Tracy would be doting on her one moment, then putting her down so she could run a train of guys the next. It was hilarious. But, like all bottom feeders, Tracy was weak. First, it was a beer with the guys. Then, just a few lines of coke. That's how their spirals always start. She was nothing different. 

Once those bad habits started again, it was easy to push her. First, she started letting her clients see Emma naked. Maybe lightly touch or kiss the little girl. Then she'd breastfeed her with her nipples coated with their cum. And soon, well, poor little Emma was on the way to becoming just like her mother. That is if fate hadn't intervened.

We didn't mean for it to happen. It's the cunt's fault, really. How were we supposed to know Tracy would OD? Hell, maybe she planned it and wanted to go out fucking. Regardless, we were doing one of her famous gangbangs, and someone eventually realized Tracy wasn't breathing. That didn't stop the party. We all made sure to get our nuts off. She was still warm, you understand, but we weren't the reason she'd died. After paying her to hear everything he'd done to her, an ending like that wasn't surprising for Tracy. And that just left Emma, sweet little Emma, all alone.

We thought about it, well, those who didn't run the second we realized Tracy had stopped breathing. We thought about calling the police and then leaving, letting them find Emma and her dead crack whore mother. But where would that leave the little girl? Foster care, most likely. With people who would never love her. Oh, they'd probably rape and abuse her, but they'd never give her the attention she truly needed. No. Emma deserved something better than living a mediocre life while suffering from trauma. So, a couple of us took her with us as we set the apartment on fire. If some of her neighbors died, well, nothing of value would be lost.

So, that's how we saved beautiful little Emma. She's a star now, making us so much money. And we love her just as much and just as hard as we did her mother. She films for us every day. Her screams are so much prettier than Tracy's ever was. We saved her mother's wigs, and she dresses up before we fuck her. Smearing her makeup with our spit and her tears, bruising her body, tearing open her ass, and beating her face bloody. She's beautiful now, living the life she always deserved. But we aren't mean. After the filming is done, we wash her up, feed her, and get her high.

At just five years old, she's already a whore, already an addict, all at less than half the age her momma was. She'll probably burn out twice as fast, and if she does, we'll also catch that on film. But hopefully, she'll squirt out a baby or two before she does. It'd be all poetic-like for her to follow in her mother's footsteps. All the way to her eventual grave, leaving us her daughters.

Chapter 68: Becoming a family man

Summary:

A man recounts his journey to becoming a father to two beautiful girls.

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BECOMING A FAMILY MAN

I never thought I'd be the family man type. I didn't really care much for kids. I liked doing my own thing, but being tied down with children and a wife just seemed more like a hassle than anything. Sure, I wanted women and had plenty of hookups, but most of the time, it seemed like I was working to keep a friend and not a fuckbuddy. I didn't want a friend, so I kept it mostly to one-night stands.

That is, until I met Jenny. Jenny wasn't like most other girls I had met before. Those were healthy, well-adjusted women with drive and ambition and were strong, independent success stories. Jenny was none of that. I didn't know the term then, but Jenny was what people call damaged goods. She'd had a fucked up life. Drinking and drugs, raped and abused by her dad, pimped out and handed off to guys he owed money to. She didn't know how to function like a normal person. Around regular guys, she'd get bored and start cheating on them. Without a firm hand, she spiraled and started looking for a fix. That is to say, she was challenging, but in ways that I enjoyed.

I didn't know about her past too much then, but she was a freak between the sheets. She had just lost her job. I didn't ask why, and she needed a place to stay. That's how we first became a regular thing. I don't know if you could say we were in a deep relationship, but there were expectations. She took care of my needs, and she got a bed to sleep in. That worked great for a few months, and honestly, I started to fall in love for the first time. Then, I came home early one day, and it nearly broke me.

I found her in bed, fucking some guy. He bolted, and I screamed at her with barely contained rage. Cowering, she confessed everything. She'd been cheating on me the whole time, fucking around and playing online. I just stood there for what felt like an eternity, and then I punched her. I'd never hit anyone before. One second, I was frozen. The next, she was on the floor, her nose gushing blood. The red all over her face and chest ignited something in me, and I pounced on her and raped her. I beat her bloody, gave her a broken nose and a concussion, and dumped three loads in her that day. And you want to know the kicker? She came twice as much as I did and fell in love with me after that. To that fucked up cunt, abuse was love. By beating and raping her, I had "proved" I cared about her. After that, we came to an understanding. I gave her what she needed and protected her from herself, and she cared for and loved me.

A year later, she got pregnant, and I had my first daughter. The following year, barely 9 months later, we had our second. I'd never considered being a dad, but I did my best. I never thought about them as anything other than my kids, not at least until I caught Jenny "playing" with them. I probably scared the girls that day. At first, I was furious and kicked the shit out of my wife. But then, she told me what she was doing. She wasn't abusing them. No, to her fucked up mind, she was loving them. She wanted them to moan and mew and shudder and shake like she'd had. She reached down, started stroking my cock, and told me everything she had done with them. She took my hand and had me touch them. Stroke their tiny cunnies. And finally, to start kissing them.

That was fifteen years ago now, and my life couldn't be better. Sure, my Jenny acts out sometimes and needs to get beaten or raped. Sometimes, I even get her drunk and take her out to adult theaters or bars and let her get used like she needs. I no longer care if she gets too banged up or catches something. She's secondary now. What's most important is taking care of my daughters. Unlike Jenny, I'd never hurt them. They've known nothing but constant love for fifteen years. They've known nothing but grooming by me and Jenny. Hell, Jenny handled most of that. She taught her daughters what never to do or say in public. She's a good mom that way.

Now? Now when I come home, I strip, and my girls come and kneel before me, sucking on the cock that made and has fed them for fifteen years. Next year, they're going off their birth control. They have boys they think might be good "fathers," but their babies will certainly be mine. And then, just like Jenny had before them, they'll start training their daughters. It'll be beautiful. I reach down and stroke my children's heads as they bob up and down my cock, almost fighting each other to earn my cum. One day, they'll teach their little girls to do the same with me.

I never thought I'd be a family man, but now, I get it, I think to myself as I shudder and cum all over my teenage daughters.

Chapter 69: I want to stay a virgin

Summary:

A senior talks about the games the football team likes to play with the incoming freshmen.

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I WANT TO STAY A VIRGIN

"I want to stay a virgin."

That's what she told me on our third date. God, I love high school freshmen, especially the ones who have hit puberty hard. Everything is so new and overwhelming to them, and they haven't yet figured out how to deal with their new, mature body, urges, and needs. They're a delicious typhoon of hormones, all begging to be taken advantage of. That's precisely what Erin was to me. An object to be taken advantage of.

It was something of a competition amongst the varsity team. We'd all single out some fresh meat and give them the attention they've never had before. Imagine feeling all confused and awkward. Your body is so different. You have so many new needs and feelings, and you're going to a new school at that. And from the moment you arrive, you're suddenly popular. The high school football star wants to date you. Tells you that you are beautiful. It has to be overwhelming and fuck, and it works every time.

Some of them are so easy, it's not even fun. They're just horny little sluts who will end up sleeping through half the class before they get churned out, probably end up trapping some pathetic loser with the skank for the rest of his life with kids that aren't even his. Some are real freaky bitches that do everything, and then you notice all the scars on their bodies. Maybe because they are a cutter, perhaps cigarette or cigar burns from daddy. Regardless, those are the ones you invite to the big parties. You can wreck them, and they'll never tell on anyone, even if you hurt them badly.

Me? I like to work a bit on one. I want a challenge. I like the good girls. The innocent ones who try to stay on the straight and narrow. Those are the fun ones to break. Not like Andy does. He takes the sweet ones and turns them into self destructive nasty cunts. It's fun for parties, but if you find out they offed themselves, you're not surprised. He's fucked up that way, it's hilarious. No. I make them want it.

Erin was such a good girl. A nice Christian girl. Not very smart, but with a heart of gold. We made out for nearly an hour at the end of our first date. I got her nipples so hard they could slice glass, and when I touched her panties, they were drenched. She said no, she doesn't do that. She's a virgin. So I relented.

On our next date, my fingers got under those panties. She'd never had an orgasm before, and it was a fucking beautiful sight to see her squirm and squirt. I told her it was only fair if she returned the favor, no sex, of course. Her clumsy hands felt so good on my cock and when I told her to kiss my head, she did. A little push, and she was shocked by the load I sent down her throat. She cried, but I hugged and kissed her, and my fingers worked some more, then my mouth, as she had her second ever orgasm. She forgave me after that.

But tonight, I had a surprise for her. I slipped her some ecstasy while we were at dinner before the movie. Not much, half a dose. Just enough to make her warm, touchy, and frisky. Rolling just a bit, at the theater, it was easy to start groping her. She grabbed my arm so tightly when I started fingering her. It took no effort to remove her panties and pull her onto my lap. Even drugged, she still whimpered and weakly protested.

"I want to stay a virgin," she told me. I whispered and told her to be quiet, that she would be, even as I spread her legs wider. Anyone half paying attention to us would have known what was going on. I pulled a small bottle of lube out and slowly started fingering Erin's asshole. She protested at first, but I held her tight against me with my free arm, covering her mouth. The sensations and the drug were too much for her. She relented pretty easily. Then I pushed my cock into her ass and told her everyone would know what a slut she was if she wasn't quiet. Her soft grunts, mixed with her tears of shame and pain, were even better than I could have hoped for. I took my time and didn't cum for nearly thirty minutes, just slowly using and stretching out her asshole. Eventually, I filled it with cum and sat her down beside me. Her panties, I put in my pocket. She'd never get them back.

It's wild what anal in a public setting does to a freshman. She was so quiet the rest of the movie. She sniffled some, but kept her head down as my jizz leaked out of her assuredly sore asshole. On the drive back, I told her how pretty she was and how much I loved her. I pulled off the side of the road, and when I reached over and reclined her back, she said nothing. Then, as I flipped her over, she just cried some more, and this time, I didn't use any lube. I told her I would marry her someday, that she was that special to me. Then I reamed her shitter while she bawled. The drive home was wild. She clung to my arm because she didn't know what else to do. She meekly kissed me on the cheek at her door and then went inside, probably to take a long shower. I sent her another text and told her that I loved her. It took several minutes for her to respond, but I got what I expected.

"I love you, too," was her response.

I think one more date with her will be enough. She's the meek type, clearly. Two ass fucks and she does whatever I say. I wonder how much she'll talk after she goes to the party this weekend. We'll keep her virgin, but that ass? Every member on the team will get a crack at it.

It's only fair, after all.

Chapter 70: Cocksleeve

Summary:

A girl is slowly given a new purpose in life by her stepfather.

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COCKSLEEVE

She hangs loosely in the air as her stepdad holds her up, violently thrusting inside her petite body. The only thing that can escape his grasp is her tortured grunts and moans as he rapes her. Just like last night. Just like yesterday. It's the only thing he does with her hardly anymore. It used to be so different.

She loves him—or loved him once. Her feelings for him vary day to day. It used to be a simple, honest love. Then he lost his job. He would watch her while her mom worked two shifts to support everyone. He would get drunk a lot and tell her how pretty she was. He even bought her adorable clothes and stockings and let her wear makeup that her mother never would. Then, he would whisper in her ear and tell her to keep it a secret.

He starts slamming into her tiny body again. She can't push back. She can't pull away. She doesn't feel like a person when he does this. He uses a word that makes her feel dirty. Filthy. Cocksleeve. Daddy's little cocksleeve. His dick is so massive and every thrust feels like it's ripping apart her insides. He doesn't talk to her or kiss her when he's like this. He's just an animal, and she's his prey.

But she keeps his secrets. Their private, hidden life sometimes makes her feel so grown up and sexy. Often, it leaves her balled up, holding her privates, as she cries herself to sleep. He films it more and more and shows her videos of girls like her and what men online have said about the videos her stepdad has shared. Then he tells her that he loves his little cunt, before holding her down and making her ass or cunny hurt. She has to use those words. Only those, especially cunny. Girls like her, girls her age, they only have cunnys.

She cries as her juices and his leak onto the floor. She thinks she's pissed herself again, but she's not sure. She's so tired, so overwhelmed, as his arms press into her guts, holding her tight, as he pulls out and pushes into her asshole. He likes that he doesn't bottom out in her there. He can fuck her harder, rougher. She just wants to throw up as she dangles helplessly. Everything hurts. And she doesn't think he is ever going to stop with her.

It started with such sweet cuddles, and when he was drunk, his hands would begin to wander. They rubbed her once special places and made her feel sick, weird, warm, and happy all at once. His mouth was warm when he kissed her. When he sucked on her neck, her toes curled. When he tasted her nipples, butterflies exploded in her belly. And she shuddered the very first time he licked and lapped at her cunny after teaching her that word. But those were the early days. She fell in love with him. She adored him, even more than her mother. She did anything for him. But from there, he only got rougher.

The only sounds in the living room now are the thick, wet sound of his cock balls deep in her ass, along with her sobs and wailing. She hates being held like this the most. She feels like a toy, an object, as her stepdad abuses her asshole and rearranges her guts. Drool slides out of her mouth as her tears and snot join it on the floor. She knows he'll make her clean it up with her tongue. She has to clean everything after. She knows what her piss tastes like, what her poop tastes like, and scariest of all, what her blood tastes like.

Now, he tells her things while he photographs her afterward. While she's cleaning off his cock, he tells her about all his new friends online. While licking up the mess on the floor, as his foot grinds against her cunny, he tells her how much money she'll make for him. While they shower, he tells her that this is her purpose. That this will always be her life.

And when she falls asleep naked against him, exhausted, he whispers to her that soon, she'll never have to worry about her mother or school ever again. She cries, then moans softly in her bed as he starts touching her, ready to turn her into his cocksleeve once again.

Chapter 71: Temptation

Summary:

A good, honest religious man learns with his foster daughter that he may not be that good a man after all.

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TEMPTATION

"Fuck, your mouth is so warm, Amelia," I told my little foster daughter as her mouth swirled skillfully around my cock. I should have felt guilty, I should have. I knew her past, but I never expected in my life to have to deal with an issue like this. I wasn't that type of man. I wasn't a pervert. I didn't oogle teens or kids. I was a good, honest, Christian man. I was. What I was becoming, I had no idea. I only knew I would be damned to hell. 

 Telling someone this, even if only in a letter I never intend to send and will likely destroy, well, it's difficult, you understand. Maybe I should start at the beginning. Perhaps that will make it easier to understand.

My family has always taken care of the needy. We have a long history of donations, charity work, and taking in those who are suffering. My wife and I learned we couldn't have children, but we still wanted a family, so we started fostering children, and even adopted some of those. Amelia was our latest foster. It was a tragic situation. Her mother had overdosed, her father was unknown, and a string of dealers and boyfriends had molested and even sold the poor girl. She'd only known torment in her life, and we knew God had sent her to us to make her life better. That was always the intent. Always.

We had been warned that Amelia had boundary issues. Compulsive masturbation, extreme mood swings, and aggressive sexual touching were among the things we had to be careful with. In addition to that, she rarely ever talked. She could, and would, but getting a sentence out of her was nearly a miracle. We knew, though, with love, patience, and guidance, that we would be able to guide the child through this period of her life. And at first, it was. We tempered her mood swings, corrected her public masturbation at a minimum, and she stopped all attempts at sexual groping with adults. Despite her lack of education, she was a brilliant child, and learning new things wasn't challenging for her. You could see that spark in her eye that let you know she was always thinking. That was the first warning sign I missed. She was always thinking. Plotting. Planning.

My wife had a women's retreat with the church, and our other kids were gone for the weekend with their friends or visiting their birth families. We encouraged, whenever possible, for our fosters and adoptees to stay close to them. Mistakes of the past can always be repaired and forgiven, if they work for it. Amelia was left alone with me, but I didn't think much of it. I had been around her alone before. As we watched a movie, she cuddled so warmly against me. Once or twice, her hands slowly reached for my crotch. I pulled it away, patted her hand, and told her good girls don't do that. At bedtime, she asked if she could sleep with me, because she was scared. I told her no, but that if she had a nightmare, just to call for me. I had gone to bed and slept, expecting that to be all for the night.

The first thing I remembered was having a wet dream. I may be a good, honest, Christian man, but I have urges, and my wife and I enjoy each other's bodies. She was sucking on my cock, her tongue sliding up and down it with a skill she'd never shown before. With an enthusiasm that was practically boundless. I had never felt such ecstasy before, and I thrust against her eager mouth, and it felt so small and tight against my member. I woke up then, holding down Amelia's 7 year old mouth on my cock as shot after shot of cum went down it. I was stunned. Mortified. Horrified. I let go of her and watched, and the only thing the child did was show me all the seed on her tongue, swallow it, and hop out of bed like it was nothing. I should have chased after her, chastised her, but I was in shock. I had molested my foster daughter, or had she raped me? Both? Could a child rape an adult? No. No, I decided. The fault lay with me.

I eventually went to her room the next morning. There she was playing with her toys, clearly oblivious to how wrong the things she had done were. That we had done. I couldn't absolve my actions. I was her guardian. Her protector. I sat down nervously, and she looked up at me. There was a glint in her eye that should have frightened me. But she was so slim, so innocent, despite her acts. She didn't know better. I believed that at the time.

I clumsily spoke to her, trying to tell her that what had happened was wrong. That she couldn't do things like that. That she was too young. That you didn't do such things with your parents or guardians. That you don't touch people while they are sleeping. I spoke for what had to have been thirty minutes, and the entire time, her eyes were locked on mine. She acted as if she was listening, but throughout it all, a slow but ever-growing grin spread across her face. It was scary because it was a look that said everything I said was nothing but lies. Like I was the wrong one. That I was the fool. But she waited there patiently until I finished. When I was done, she simply stood up, grabbed her tablet, and started playing a video for me.

I feared at first it would be porn, or something else inappropriate. I knew that sometimes girls who had been abused talked to men who were like their previous abusers online. But what started wasn't anything like that. It was a video of my bedroom from the night before. On it, was little Amelia, sucking on my cock, her head bobbing up and down. You couldn't see my face in it, couldn't tell I was sleeping, but soon came the moment when I put my hands on her head, moaning, pushing down as I came deep in her throat. The video stopped shortly afterward, and she stared at me.

"Amelia, you... you can't record...," was what I started to say. The girl said nothing, as was usual. What the child did instead was grab my crotch through my pajamas with a firmness that was terrifying. I was the adult. I was her guardian. I should have been in control. Instead, with her free hand, she started the video and began to fake cry.

"Daddy... Daddy no... Daddy stop," she said, stroking my cock as she pulled it free of my pajama bottoms. Her voice sounded so real, so sincere, like she was truly upset. Her eyes told a completely different story. Her mockery clearly implied what she threatened to do. I was a child molester now. No matter what the truth was, no one would believe me. The grin on her face spread almost impossibly wide, and that glint in her eye spoke not only of intelligence but also of guile. I could have pulled away. She was still only a child. But her hands were expert, and I was already growing hard, and then she put her mouth on me.

I want to say I pushed her away, but you already know that would be a lie. The second she started devouring my cock with a skill of a thirty year old prositute, I was lost in sensations I couldn't resist or deny. I gripped her head again, just like the night before. I moaned as she manipulated my dick, taking it impossibely deep in her throat. I lost myself in that moment and that is why I will always be damned to the lowest pits of hell.

"Fuck, your mouth is so warm, Amelia," I told my little foster daughter as her mouth swirled around my cock. I started to shake, tremble, and shudder, and she knew exactly what to do to me. As I started to cum, she pulled back, and I splattered my seed all over her seven year old face. Shaking, smiling there with that same smirk, she cleaned herself off, licking her fingers and looking at me. Then that child got up as my knees buckled and picked up our son's tablet, which she'd hidden and had used to record the whole thing. She showed it to me, with that same damn grin, then said something softly to me.

"I think I'm gonna like it here," Amelia said as she walked out of the room, stripping along the way. I have no hope now. I'm a ruined man. But we're finalizing her adoption. She'll be my daughter soon, all because I can't tell my wife why we should get rid of her. I can tell no one this. No one would believe me. So I'll destroy this letter as soon as I'm done writing, and then? Then I'll go fuck my newest daughter.

Chapter 72: First taste

Summary:

A father gives his daughter her first taste of his love for her.

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FIRST TASTE

I carefully set the cameras up so every frame and moment of my first love for her will be recorded. This is such a crucial moment, and while I will never forget it, it's vital that it's saved for her as well. One day, she might forget this formative day, and that would be such a loss. No woman should forget the first time they tasted their father's seed.

Once that is set up, I go to the living room and find my angel there. She's so little, so pure. So sweet and innocent. Fools will say I'm about to steal her innocence, but the truth is, she'll have a closer family bond than those crazies could ever know. It's not abuse, it's proof of love. Proof that she is mine, and will always be mine, to love and protect. Even when she's married and has her own kids, I will still be her first love. I may still be a lover of hers, even then. I hope, I pray, that at least some of her children will be mine. But that's decades away. Right now, she's still a toddler. She no longer needs her pacifier anymore. Daddy has something so much better for her than that.

She's already used to my loving touches. The way my fingertips slide along her skin makes her laugh and tingle. She makes the most lovely mewing sounds when I tease her cunny or her precious little asshole. Daddy kisses her so much, and she already is such a good girl. She knows to suck on my tongue or finger when I put it in her mouth. She already knows how to grind against Daddy to feel good and will do it for hours while we watch TV together. But that's not enough for me. Not anymore.

I bring her into her bedroom and I strip, pulling her up on the bed with me. She's so beautiful, a perfect porcelain doll, ready to make her Daddy happy. We make out as I stroke her cunny, until it starts quivering against my finger. I want that hole so bad, but I know she's too little now. So instead, I push up her gown and kiss it until she pees into my mouth, shaking uncontrollably.

"Wasn't that good, baby girl?" I ask her. Of course, she nods, her tiny face flushed and overwhelmed with so many conflicting emotions. I pat her head and present my cock to her. She knows what it is. It's exploded against her body before while she's shaken her petite butt on it. "Now, angel, now it's time for you to take care of Daddy. Do you want to show him how much you love him?" She does, nodding her head so eagerly. "Just like my tongue, just like my finger, how the ladies on those special movies do it," I remind her. It takes everything to not explode the second her soft, warm lips touch me.

I'm much too big for her small mouth. Even my head barely fits inside, but that's enough, as her clumsy fingers stroke my shaft while her tongue dances along the tip. I smile at and praise her, ensuring she knows I love her. This isn't a trick, it's no manipulation. I adore her and couldn't be more proud of her. She's perfect, my little girl. I moan as she suckles on my cock, milking her father, driving me to the very edge of exctasy. I run my fingers through her hair, tell her I love her, and then shake, as more white than her tiny mouth can hold floods her tongue and throat. I stiffen, watching it drip down her too-young face, telling her to keep her tongue out. Then I ask her to swallow it all, and she does.

She's my baby girl, and I'll always love her. I can't wait to show her how much, every single day. It's what she deserves, after all. 

Chapter 73: Detention

Summary:

A rebellious young girl gets sent to an Academy with a reputation for "fixing" problematic students.

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DETENTION

She hung there limply, alone in the room. The only loud sounds came from outside, as the students enjoyed their lunch break. Inside the room, there was mostly silence, except for the slow, erratic drip of jism splattering on the floor. The occasional jangle of the handcuffs occasionally added to the canvas, but mostly there was nothing. Which was how she felt inside.

To say she was a rebellious child would have been an understatement, but to be fair, she was far from the worst kid in school. Yes, she had outbursts and severe mood swings, but she wasn't destructive or violent. She didn't attack the other girls, nor did she threaten to harm herself. Regardless, her parents had pulled her out of the public school system, hoping that a far more rigid curriculum would be more conducive to her behavior. They, of course, had no idea how right they would be, both about altering her behavior as well as the rigidity.

The Academy worked on a strike system, with a third strike leading to detention. The Vice Principal was in charge of the detention program, with assistance from the male coaches. It was easily the most innovative element of discipline at the Academy, and they had a reputation for having very few repeat offenders. Most girls who challenged the authority came out of the required punishment changed forever. They were so much quieter, respectful, and vastly more compliant. If some of them had nightmares for the rest of their lives or cried randomly, well, who cared? They were no longer a problem, and that was what was important.

Like all youth, she thought she was different. She knew she was different. No one could change her, even if she wanted them to. She didn't even try to cause trouble. It was just one of those things that happened. It was an impulse. Reflex. She had laughed at her new teachers when they warned her. She had flipped one of them off when they had threatened her. And lastly, she knocked all their papers off their desk on her way to see the Principal. It was a joke. It was always a joke.

The Principal was "disappointed" in her. Everyone was. Her parents were disappointed. Her teachers. What few friends she'd ever had. It was always the same bullshit. They weren't mad. They were "concerned." They were "worried." They had "questions" and "just want to understand." But they couldn't. They didn't live in her head. They couldn't change her. Her mom couldn't, and the system couldn't. She was a rebel like none before her. At least that's what she thought. That's what they all thought. It was the same story, repeated endlessly.

She had been wrong, though. It was only the first half of the first day of detention, and she now understood that. She still had a week's worth to go through. They had already shown her the video in case she made any wild claims. It was just hours of her fidgeting in her chair, clearly taken from her other classes, zoomed in so no other students could be seen. "Proof" that she was all alone, behaving herself. Of course, there would be physical evidence she could show. Abrasions. Bruises. Internal Trauma. They already had a teacher lined up to confess how she had snuck three boys into her dormitory room. Just vile and so sad that things had gotten out of control with them before they could be stopped and arrested.

What had stopped her in the tracks were the videos they showed her as the Vice Principal and the coaches rested from raping her repeatedly during the first four hours. She'd had sex before. Her therapist had said that was why she acted out like she always did. She didn't know. Maybe. Maybe it just felt good. But what they showed her wasn't good. Even the abuse earlier had sometimes been pleasurable, before her cunny had gotten too raw from the constant fucking. No, what they showed her was terrifying. It was girls in a kennel, with other dogs. The animals fought over the girls, taking them, mounting them like bitches in heat. The girls all had vacant eyes. They didn't even fight, except one, and by the end of the video, she was just like the others. 

Broken.

She heard footsteps and started crying softly. When the door opened, she tried to plead with them, but her mouth was taped shut. Then, detention was resumed, as man after man used her cunt and then her ass like they were stress relief toys. At the end of the day, she had to "clean" up her mess, using only her tongue, until the floor was spotless. The fresh cum wasn't a problem, even though her stomach churned. It was the stale cum, dried, from the morning that was the problem. It made her sick, and then they made her clean up her vomit. No trace of any of it could be left behind. Eventually, she held it all down, at least until she made it to her dormitory bathroom. There, she emptied her stomach, using her finger to ensure it was all gone. Afterward, she curled up in her bed and cried herself to sleep.

When spring break came and went, her parents were so eager to talk to the staff at the Academy. They had nothing but praise for how well-behaved their little girl was now. Not once had she caused any trouble. Not once had she even talked back. Her mom was delighted with how helpful she was around the house and how good she was about her manners and chores. Her father had slightly different praise, whispered quietly. He thanked them for all the new skills and techniques they had taught her. Everyone was so happy and proud of all the progress she had been making.

Everyone except her, but it's not like she mattered that much at all. And if she made a fuss, well, there could always be more detention.

Chapter 74: It's all about the eyes

Summary:

A man describes his favorite part of a woman and what he does while watching it.

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IT'S ALL ABOUT THE EYES

Have you ever been in one of those discussions with guys? You know, where everyone is talking about what they like most about women? You always have the breast men, and honestly, who could blame them? Few things in this life are nicer than a soft, juicy tit to suckle on or bite. So I can't fault them for choosing that. Hell, thinking about it now, I almost want to. 

Then you have the dudes who are all about the snatch. The slit. That stanky lil cunt. Again, can't begrudge that opinion. A nice wet hole designed for cocks is hard to argue against. I've enjoyed plenty of them and can honestly say I've never found one disappointing.

After that, you have those who are all about that ass. Black dudes especially seem obsessed with those big badunkadunks. Nice big, plump behinds that are just begging to be spanked or fucked with abandon. Those are fun too, I guess, but I always seem to run into ones tighter than Fort Knox or seem to have forgotten they were supposed to be exit only and let everyone in. But when you get one that is just right, well, that is a slice of heaven.

What remains is mostly the realm of the fetishists. Guys who love feet, armpits, and long legs in high heels. All that jazz. And who the fuck am I to shit on anyone's parade? If you like it, go get it. That's my motto. Find that diamond in the rough who has what your freak-on needs and have at it. That's what life is all about, right?

But for me, it's all about the eyes. You know, some ethnic folks call it something like the "window to the soul." I like that. It's all poetic like. And, it's true. Now, I hear some of you morons already whining. Everyone has eyes. Well, yeah. And I'm not talking about the rare ones. Though a bright blue or deep green eye is something to behold. No, the eye itself isn't what is important. It's what's in them, what's behind them that gets me hard.

Have you ever seen eyes filled with terror? Tears rushing out of them, while snot runs out of their nose? It's indescribable. The fear is palpable. You can smell it, taste it, but for me, it's watching that light in their eyes flicker and dim that I crave. That I savor.

I know, some of us don't like our victims to see us. They want them to never be able to identify who they are, so they can strike again. I don't concern myself with such things. The dead tell no tales, as the saying goes. That's another one that I like. Very aprapro. No, I want to see their face throughout. That's crucial. I don't let them turn their head. I don't let them close their eyes. Oh, some of them try, but a gentle suggestion that I'll cut their eyelids off always perks them right up. Only one ever made me do it. Poor thing. 

Her? Her I left alive. 

I also like the younger ones. Not too small. They need to have lived a bit, but I still want to make sure they are innocent. I've taken older ones before. The damaged, broken girls living on the street, out when they should be in bed sleeping. They were fun, don't get me wrong. But their eyes were already dead. Most of them weren't ready to go, but a few of them just fucking accepted it. Like they always expected something like that. It ruined the fun. It fucking ruined the fun.

So now, I get the fresh ones. The good girls. The ones who think they have a bright future ahead of them. That way, when I steal it from them, I can watch that realization in their eyes. They aren't going home. They aren't going to college. They aren't going to have children. Every possible future, erased by me. I can almost see them flash in their eyes. It's hypnotic. I thrust in their often bloody cunts, stealing first their virginity. If their pussy doesn't bleed, I then take their ass. It's important for them to understand that their innocence is being forever stolen from them.

I let them beg then. Plead. They always tell me they'll do whatever I want if I let them go. They won't tell anyone. Some of them I even believe. They're ashamed. Humiliated. It's all written in their eyes. I only look at them. Big breasts, tiny clits, wide hips, none of that matters. I only watch their eyes. I drown in them as I rape and begin to beat them. I just smile, and those eyes get so big. Huge even, as they start to realize that their words won't matter. That I'm not finished with them yet. I have to watch those eyes to the very end. 

I need to see their tears. I need to see their fear. I need to witness that light begin to flicker. Flicker. Flicker.

Flicker.

Flicker.

And then, hands around their throat, I delight as their holes tense around me.

Flicker. 

Flicker.

Fading.

Fading.

I love them then. Those big, beautiful eyes.More than anyone will ever love them.

Fading. 

Fading.

And finally...

Gone.

Chapter 75: Excuses

Summary:

A girl goes through her life, being abused and taking the abuse meant for her younger sister.

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EXCUSES

It wasn't anything new for her. Sara had started doing this long ago, all to protect her sister. It had started first with their real father and his wandering hands. After the divorce, it continued every time they had to spend a weekend with him. Her mother's later boyfriends were little better. Her mother had a type, men just like her father, with all the same bad habits included. Then there was a coach, two store owners at the mall, and now, her sister's fifth-grade teacher. All of them wanted the same thing. They all got it, just from Sara instead of her little sister, Tiffany.

It wasn't like Tiffany was a bad little girl. She was just a little slow, struggled to pay attention, and had poor impulse control. Sara could still remember when her mother had been pregnant with her. She'd drunk a lot. Daddy had gotten violent often. She wondered if some of that had to do with Tiffany's issues. But deep down, she was a good little girl. But she was pretty, even prettier than Sara. She always had been, and likely always would be. Sara had noticed, because she had already felt those glances and touches herself, and had seen men already looking at her little sister.

She remembered the first confrontation. She was several years older than her little sister. Her parents were on the verge of their breakup and the dissolution of their marriage. Her father was drunk all the time and angry. Sara had bruises almost all the time from his attentions. She always wore pants and long-sleeved shirts to hide the marks he gave her. But when she saw him bouncing her little sister on his lap, his cock hard, she knew what would happen next. He got up and started to take Tiffany to the bedroom. She heard him talk about how they were going to play a special game. Sara had blocked the door with her body and told Tiffany to go play in her room. Her father was ready to beat the shit out of her, but she diffused the situation using everything her dad had ever taught her. She pulled him into his bedroom, locked the door, and rode him even as she cried, fucking Daddy with abandon. Afterward, Sara had sat up, wiping her eyes and told him bluntly that he would never fucking touch or hurt Tiffany. And he never had. Instead, all of his frustrations and rapes were taken out on Sara.

When her mom started dating again, Sara had to start dressing for attention. Tiffany's natural beauty and innocent demeanor led to many of them sniffing her hair, stroking her body, or giving her hugs that went way too long. Every single time it started, every time her mother looked away or chose to be elsewhere, Sara offered herself to them instead. Every time her sister would be watching the TV or playing with her toys, while Sara got to play at being a whore, used again and again, until she started to hate herself. Because only trash would ever enjoy it.

Her sister's second-grade coach was a lecher. By then, Sara was a natural at spotting the bad men. She understood how her mom sought them out. The signs were obvious, no matter how much they tried to cover them up or hide them. The way they leered at the little girls. The way their touches lingered. Their nostrils flaring as they quickly sniffed them. And the hugs. The hugs that always went on forever. After a game, she remembered waiting for their mom. Likely drunk or fucking some random stranger, Sara texted her again and again to pick them up. The coach was all smiles as he told her that he would take Tiffany to get a snack while they waited. Sara knew to follow them. She saw him take her into the men's room. She was in there in a second, and the coach tried to claim her sister had to use the bathroom. It was an obvious, stupid lie. She told Tiffany to go outside and wait. Then she'd locked the door and offered herself instead. When she came, she wondered if she was really even doing it to protect her sibling anymore. Twenty minutes later, with cum collecting in her panties, their mom finally arrived to take them home.

When her sister was in the fourth grade, she started stealing. Nothing valuable, always crap. She wasn't even good or subtle about it. She got caught. Of course, she fucking got caught. Twice, she "stopped" the cops from getting involved. With one man, it had been simple. While her sister waited outside, she took his cock in her hand, asking if she could persuade him to leave her sister alone. She did. He hadn't wanted to molest little Tiffany. But by now, Sara didn't know any other way to deal with difficult situations. Her pussy and young age were her solution to everything. With the first man at the mall, her hairless slit wasn't even needed, only her mouth, lovingly applied until his sack was empty.

During the second time, she did offer it, bypassing just using her mouth. She reached for his crotch, even as he said she didn't need to do anything. That he would let Tiffany off with a warning. His resistance melted the second his dick was free and she offered him her wet twat. She cried then, burying her face in the man's shoulder. She didn't cry for her sister, on the other side of the door. She didn't cry because she was in pain or being abused. She cried because it was the final death of her innocence. She had chosen this. It was all she knew. It was all that she would ever know. And then she bit the man's shoulder, clenched down on his cock with her cunt, and sqeezed, milking his cum into her always eager hole.

When she heard Tiffany was struggling in her fifth-grade math class, Sara went into action. It was only a C. Nothing major. Nothing important. But she didn't need a real reason anymore. Just the barest thread to give her an excuse to do what she did best. What she wanted more than anything. She had even stopped lying to herself that it was for Tiffany. She knew it wasn't. She'd even stopped hating herself for that. The teacher was shocked when she propositioned him, running her fingers along his arm. An A for her sister. She honestly didn't care what the teacher did. The excuse was for him. To justify her actions. When she left the room, well after school had ended, he followed her. When she went into the nearby boy's room, he followed. There, both of them got what they wanted. She got used like a cheap Fleshlight. He got the teen pussy he'd always dreamt about. As he bucked in her, harder and harder, he bent over and whispered in her ear.

"Mmmm, god your pussy is so tight. I bet Tiffany is just as dirty as you are. God, it would be hot to fuck both of you together!"

The Sara of old, the protector, would have been offended by the thought. Everything she had done was to ensure her sister would never go through what she had. But time, a stream of men, and her body's changing response to their "affections" had smothered that Sara. The Sara of now, instead, grew wet at the thought of it. She creamed around the teachers cock as he fucked her and dreamed of the idea that was now worming through her head. As she pulled up her panties, trapping the man's cum, and left the school, thoughts raced and plans were formed. Sara pulled out her cell phone and made a call.

"Hi, Daddy. Yeah, we're still coming over Friday. I think... I think it's time. You know. For Tiffany. For her to be a good girl," she told her father while jizz dried against her panties. For her sister, Sara had finally run out of excuses. It was time for Tiffany to be like her, just like Sara had been like their mom before her.

Because the cycle, it never, ever, ends.

Chapter 76: The most popular girl at school

Summary:

A girl becomes a legend for her free-loving acts at school and beyond.

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THE MOST POPULAR GIRL AT SCHOOL

A line always formed wherever she went. It was easy to understand. She was easily the most popular girl at school and always had been. Rumors swirled around her, and stories grew with every retelling as her myth and legend evolved. Boys and even men wanted her. Girls hated and despised her, though a small number wished they had the courage to be like her. She gave everything she had, freely and enthusiastically, every moment of her life. She was a fantastic sight to behold.

Teachers never reported on her antics. Mainly because no one ever managed to catch her in the act. Well, that wasn't true. More than one teacher caught her messing around with a boy or boys. Then they would send them away, so they could "punish" her for her indiscretions. Punish her by letting her eagerly suck their cock with unnatural skill for a girl her age. Fuck them with her cunny or her ass with an abandon that was impossible to fake and was more sensual that most porn stars could muster. Almost all men fell to her erotic charms, and even a few women. Those girls who did eventually became legends in their own right.

After a while, the administration gave up on fighting it. The rumors swirled, of course. It was impossible not to hear the gossip. But by the time they ran behind the bleachers or into the boys' room, no one would be there. Just some used condoms on the ground, spunk dripping along the floor, but no one ever in the act. No other girl was more masturbated to. No other girl had more trash talk and hatred directed her way. She was an enigma who no one could truly understand.

There were whispered rumors that she had started sucking boys off in kindergarten. Most kids in the school didn't take that seriously, but if proof had suddenly materialized, none of them would have been surprised. As far as most could tell, her first confirmed act was giving multiple fourth graders their first blowjob when she was in the third grade. Many boys claimed to have had her before then, but no one witnessed those acts, and tons of them liked to claim they were her "first". But who that truly was, no one knew.

Some wondered about her family. She never brought anyone to her home. No one got to see her real life. No one went behind the curtain. But there was gossip. There was always gossip. That her mother had whored her since she was little. That her Daddy loved her all the time. That she was never allowed to wear clothes at home. That she performed online for all kinds of pedos. That she fucked pigs, dogs, and horses. Only the dogs were ever confirmed, the year she graduated. It was an insane night that everyone remembered and spoke about in hushed tones for years. The boy's, now men, stories were never believed at college. Those who had never seen her thought the stories of her having a train ran on her in the boy's restroom were too outlandish. It wasn't possible, they said, even though every word was true. Well, most of them.

So when she ended up in the news and the investigation started, no one was surprised. It was a fate everyone half expected of her. Arrests were made, and the story was followed intently by everyone in town. Gossip continued, as men reminisced and women told their friends they never did like her. But they never stopped talking about her, even as the years went by. She remained a legend, remembered hatefully and fondly, for all the love she had to give to all the boys at her school. Always, always the most popular girl there, even if no one, in the end, bothered to remember her name.

Chapter 77: What makes them tick?

Summary:

A man wonders what exactly happened to the girl before him that turned her into the damaged goods she is today.

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WHAT MAKES THEM TICK?

Sometimes, I truly wish I was psychic. I wouldn't be some superhero or villain, imposing my will on the world. I simply want to understand the people around me. I want to know what makes them tick. I want to see what made them become the people they are today. That's what I want more than anything in the world.

Take this trauma baby here, on the floor in front of me. I'm at the tail end of a train that was run on her. None of us here know her name, her age, or anything about her. Most of the other men probably didn't care. Some love that anonymity. That way, the girl they are using and abusing isn't real. It doesn't matter if she cries stop. It doesn't matter if she's catatonic. She doesn't matter. She's an it, a cocksleeve, nothing more. I understand that, especially with those who aren't broken. Unless you're a sociopath, you have to have some way to justify what you've done.

But me? I want to know. I want to know why they are a fighter. Why they just go stiff and don't respond? Are they imagining their Daddy "loving" them again for the first time? Are they struggling to protect their idea of themselves and their future as a virtuous person? What I want to know the most, though, is what is going on in the really fucked up ones. Not the girls who are 100% into it, though I'd love to know that, too. Not the women who are completely fighting what is happening to them. No. I mean the broken, damaged, ruined cunts who don't even know themselves what they are doing.

You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones with long sleeves and sweatpants to hide all their scars. The ones who have cut themselves a hundred times to feel anything. The ones who drink not to escape reality but to get enough courage to put themselves in danger. The ones who will do the nastiest, freakiest shit in bed with limitless abandon, then curl up in a ball and cry when you try to hug or kiss them. The ones that are bone dry when decent men show them affection. The girls who get sopping wet the second they are threatened with violence. The ones who you can beat, and they'll cum while you do it. You know who I'm talking about.

I'm the twentieth man in a row with this bitch. Twentieth. I've heard her screams. Her sobs. Her moans of ecstasy. She may be thirteen, fifteen, or twenty. The broken ones age so fast it's hard to tell. A candle burning bright lasts half as long. She's been beaten, raped, used, ganged, pissed on, choked out, and drenched in cum like a Jackson Pollock painting. At yet, here she is, still masturbating. She isn't terrified of me. She's afraid of the train stopping. Of the abuse coming to an end. Once I'm done and gone, the real terror begins. She'll be alone with her thoughts and realize once again that it'll never be enough.

But I make sure she remembers me. She's sloppy, so I take my time. Almost all the other men have left. No whiny weaklings to get in my way. I stare into those giant eyes and search for her meaning. I look for her father raping her repeatedly in her bedroom, where she will never feel safe. I look for her preacher, teaching her that the word of God is just an excuse for some men to prey upon the weak. I look for her uncle, taking care of his little niece as he teaches her games she'll never be able to scrub from her mind. And like the men before me, I add my cum to her filthy cunt. I press deep and fill her womb with my seed. Maybe she's ruined. Perhaps she can't have kids. But I hope she can. I hope she does. Because then, if I see her someday with a twitchy mini-me, I'll know her story. I'll understand why she's like that. I'll see that I contributed to her truth. I'll know why she's just like her momma.

And then, I'll teach her just like her mother. I'll make sure her little belly swells as well. Because the only thing worse than not knowing a person's journey is seeing that journey come to an end. Someone needs to keep adding to the pages. That's my job. To see that the story never finishes.

I look back one last time as I leave her. Concussed, bruised, and battered, I listen to her sobs. Then I watch as she starts touching herself, trying to keep the feeling alive for as long as she can. It won't be enough. It'll never be enough. I decide then I'll revisit this particular book in a couple of years. Perhaps leaf through it once more. Start adding new chapters with the spin-off. I smile and leave, the sounds of crying and cumming bringing music to my ears.

Chapter 78: Proof she was a good girl

Summary:

A young girl seeks validation every moment she is free.

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PROOF SHE WAS A GOOD GIRL

She intimidated the boys her age. She didn't mean to. She was a good girl, but she had needs. She had to feel valued. Loved. She needed them to know how good she was. She needed to hear their soft moans and whimpers and to feel the strong pulse of validation shooting down her throat. They simply weren't prepared for the intensity with which she sought it. 

She knew boys talked. She also knew she wasn't supposed to talk about things like that. It was a contradiction, being told that no matter what, you never talked about sexual acts with anyone. You didn't tattle. You never broke that trust. But the guys didn't seem to understand that. Maybe they had different rules. That didn't seem fair, but that was ok. She did realize early on that the less popular kids talked less. The geeks, the dorks, the awkward boys. Not only that, they fell in love with her hard, which she adored. Eventually, they would get angry with her. They couldn't understand why they couldn't be enough for her. Why she had to play with so many others. Some refused to see her once they learned about that. Most still enjoyed her visits, but their love only lasted as long as she was between their legs. Even so, that was enough.

They never could understand her needs. They couldn't fathom her mind. She simply needed it. If their cocks were hard, she was being good. The taste of their meat, the salty musk, and the heat that warmed her mouth was better than any drug she would ever take. A lifetime of grooming had given her an oral fixation that would never go away. If the boy's hands were running through her head, if they were grunting, quivering, shaking, or thrusting down her throat, she had value. She had purpose. 

She had love.

Her father had taught her that. Her brothers had taught her that. There was no greater act, no greater calling than giving and receiving love. She felt empty when she wasn't receiving it. When thick, sticky love wasn't coating her face, throat, or insides, she felt lost. When sweaty skin wasn't pressed against her body, when masculine weight wasn't crushing her against the bed or the floor, when cock wasn't filling some orifice, she knew she wasn't being good enough. It hurt her to be empty. She knew that she couldn't be loved all the time. She had been taught that there were times to be loved and times not to be. Times where she had to be patient and wait.

But she needed love.

So she got it. During bathroom breaks and lunches while at school. Rushed, clumsy, but wonderful moments between classes. She felt content as she went to the next class, sperm swimming in her belly, white coating her sex and her panties, her lips glazed with validation and love and purpose. For the next fifty minutes, she would be fine. For the next class, she could be focused. 

And then, as everyone shuffled out into the hallway, she'd grab a boy's hand, lead him into a dark corner, a bathroom stall, or a janitor's closet, and snatch the desperate attention she needed from some awkward kid, swallow the proof she needed to know she was a good girl, and then head on to the next class. She listened to her teachers. She was a good girl in all ways, but the things she learned at school from them would never be needed. She got everything she needed between classes. Then, and when she got home, she had what she needed.

Love.

Chapter 79: She thought she was grown

Summary:

A young girl, burdened with addicts for parents, finally decides to do something just for herself.

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SHE THOUGHT SHE WAS GROWN

She thought she was grown. Why wouldn't she be? Her parents were always gone, partying or high, even when they were at home. She kept the house clean. She cooked the meals. Not even ten, and she was already running the place. They certainly couldn't. When she got back from school, she'd start the tedious daily task of cleaning up the mess they had left behind. She couldn't move them if they were wasted, so she would just clean around them. Anything to make the place not stink and make her skin crawl. Keeping the place as neat as possible was one of the few things she had control over. While other kids got to go to parties or parks, she had to make excuses why friends couldn't come over or why her Mom or Dad couldn't bring her anywhere. In short, she was miserable and decided she would try something different.

Rebellion didn't come naturally to her. A lifetime of being the glue that held her family together, albeit barely, always led her to put everyone else first. She made sure that food was on the table. She made sure the place was clean. She even handmade presents on birthdays and Christmas, even if her parents often forgot her own. She was tired of it, though. She only wanted something for herself. Something that she could do that was purely for her. So, when she was invited to a birthday party at the park, she decided she would go. She didn't ask her Mom or Dad. That would have just been a waste of her time. She got online and saw that it was only five miles away. Despite how capable she was, she didn't know distances. Other than going out for the school bus or across the street to the corner shop, she rarely left her home. They had told her it was a dangerous neighborhood. But one time wouldn't hurt. She could walk there. On the screen, it didn't look that far at all. Two lefts, two rights, and a long stretchy bit, and she would be there. Easy peasy. She got a water bottle and headed out, excited to finally do something for herself.

...

She made it two blocks.

Minding her own business, she walked past an alley. She never saw the man who snatched her. He covered her mouth while she kicked and tried to scream. He dropped her down, and a single punch laid her flat, limp against the wall. There, he robbed her, taking her small clump of neatly folded dollar bills and water bottle, and left her. Concussed, she sobbed quietly for several minutes when a dirty man came to help her, or so she thought. He shushed her gently, stroking her face, holding her close as she began to cry harder. Then he started stripping off her pants. By the time she realized what was happening, her pants and panties were off, along with one sock and a shoe. Her first sexual experience was with a filthy homeless man, painfully busting her cherry as he covered her mouth and came inside her.

A group of older boys came by shortly after. She wasn't sure if there were four or five of them. Her head was fuzzy and hurt from where the man who'd robbed her had punched her. The boys were mean, grabbing at her, making her touch their things, putting them in her mouth and her special place. It didn't feel special anymore. It just hurt. They laughed as they wrote on her. They hit her and fucked her more. Their slime slid down her throat and into her belly so much that she wanted to throw up. They got bored eventually and left her there, so numb she was barely even responding to them.

The homeless man returned with a friend after that. They laughed at the words written on her. They took turns grunting and shoving their hard bits inside her. She didn't think she could even cry anymore. She felt the goo leaking out of her mouth and nose, leaving a puddle between her legs. They played with her nipples, pinching them until tears came to her eyes. They kissed her and told her she was a good girl, but she didn't feel like one. She felt like garbage. She smelled like garbage. She didn't even feel human anymore. One of them peed in her mouth and made her swallow it, and then they left her alone. She sat there for a long time before finally starting to get up. 

That was when the boys returned.

They were ecstatic that she was still there. They were rougher this time. They shoved their dongs in her brutally hard. They laughed at her and marked her some more. They shot more goo down her throat and on her face. Each thrusted more painfully inside her and dumped more sticky cream inside her bleeding hole, where it mixed and leaked pink. As before, they finally tired of abusing her chest, shoving fingers and penises inside her special place, and ramming them inside her mouth. One of them cut a clump of hair to get a reaction from her, but she left him disappointed. Limp, blankly staring ahead, they abandoned her there in the alleyway as the sun slowly began to set.

She found her scattered clothes and shoe and slowly put them back on. The birthday party at the park was long forgotten. She shuffled, ignored, back home slowly and in pain. She stopped once to throw up a vile mess of white cream, then stumbled the two blocks back to her home.

Her parents hadn't even been aware she was gone. She showered, sobbing, trying to scrub the black marks on her skin away, and finally gave up, the area raw and red, still proclaiming she was "free." Leaving the shower, she started to go to her room, where she always went while her Mom and Dad got wasted. She almost did, then she limped over and sat beside them. When she took one of their beers, they shrugged. When she asked to try the white powder they were snorting, they let her. They let her smoke. She escaped reality with them, and she would never keep the house clean again.

Chapter 80: My stallion, my love

Summary:

A young girl slowly falls in love with her horse in every way possible.

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MY STALLION, MY LOVE

Have you ever had a companion that ticked every box in your life? I don't simply mean a best friend or a lover, but someone who was literally everything in the world to you. That's what he was to me. That's who he is to me. That's who he always will be to me. 

I was scared when I first met him. The size difference was massive. If he wanted to trample and crush me, it would only take one stomp, and I would cease to exist. I'd never been around an animal so large before. I had heard the word "beast," but I had never understood what the difference between one and an animal was. It was clear the second I saw him. He was no mere animal. He was a beast. Beautiful. Terrifying. To my shame, I almost didn't ride him. Only with constant reassurance did I mount him. I just knew at any moment, he would rear up, toss me to the ground, and that would be the end of me. But he didn't. He knew I was scared. He took his time with me and trusted me to lead him until I trusted him enough to follow.

After that first ride, I was hooked. Have you ever had twelve hundred pounds of muscle between your thighs? I bet you haven't. Most girls, they don't learn what incredible sensations intense vibrations down there can give them until they are much older, in their teens. I knew that before I was ten. I heard other people who raced their steeds talking about "Riding them hard and putting them away wet." Well, I rode him hard, but the only thing getting wet was me. He took my flower as well. Not that way! Jesus, that would have killed me. But no, one day, after a long afternoon of riding him, I felt a bit of wetness, different from usual. When I dismounted him and put him away, I went to the bathroom. Sometimes, there, I would touch myself. It would feel so good that my toes would curl. This time, I found blood. It scared me, and I began to cry. A farmhand heard me, and she comforted me, told me it was common and there was nothing to worry about. And you know what? She was right.

We would go out for long rides and enjoy each other's company in silence. Afterward, I'd clean him and brush his beautiful body while I told him stories and secrets that no one else knew about. I loved him more completely than anyone else had ever loved someone. I knew that. He was my best friend. He had made me feel things no other person had. He took my flower and gave me my first orgasm. I dreamt of him and wrote impossible love stories about us together, and that's where things would have stopped if not for the internet. I wasn't even looking for something bad. Just a place to post my stories anonymously. A few innocent keywords, and suddenly I was on luxure.tv and watching something I didn't even know was possible. Yes, my stories were full of romantic love, but they held no sex in them. But here I was, not even ten years old, watching women kiss, stroke, and suck massive horse cocks until white exploded in their mouths and on their faces and bodies.

It should have disgusted me.

I should have stopped watching.

Instead, I found the piece that I was missing with my stallion. The one thing that kept us from being one soul intertwined with one another. It looked so beautiful. The trust involved in being under that beast, in taking care of him so intimately, was almost horrifying. But I trusted him that much. I loved him that much. There was nothing reasonable I would deny him. Unlike the awkward videos of sex I saw and knew I couldn't give him, I knew I could do that. I had seen his cock before. Massive. Angry. Hosing piss onto the ground like a fire hose. I had had minor sexual thoughts and had felt a tingling between my legs. But then I would ride him, and those muscles between my thighs and my bouncing on him took away those thoughts. I didn't need his cock to make me cum. He did that in other ways, and I loved him for it. Even when I didn't orgasm while riding him, I was drenched as I went into the bathroom after, touching myself until I shuddered. He had given me that so many times. It was time for me to return the favor.

I wanted to feel sexy for him. I know it's silly, but it helped me and the fantasy I had built up in my head. Of course, I knew I couldn't ride him in the bikini my mom let me use for sunbathing in the backyard. So I wore my regular clothes over them. The ride went as usual, and we had a beautiful time as always. I told him how much I loved him. I knew he understood and loved me in the same way. You just feel these things. You can't imagine them. And then, when we got back to the stables, I dismounted. During the week, there were fewer people about, and I shut the doors. I went over to the one being on the planet I would do anything for and pressed my head against his. I could feel the heat radiating off of him. The might of his muscles. I wanted him in a way I had never wanted anyone before. So I stripped for him. Not in a sexy dance. I didn't know how to do that, but I wanted to be pretty for him. His eyes bore into me, and I felt even more exposed than I was. I was juicy between my legs. I briefly thought of trying some way to give him my sex like those women had, but I knew that wouldn't work. I didn't know how to do any of that. But I knew what I could do for my lover. My beloved stallion.

I ran my hand along his flank and felt his breathing. I had never been under a horse before. There were things you didn't do. You didn't get under a horse, and you didn't stand directly behind them, but I knew he wouldn't hurt me just as I could never hurt him. He was more than just a horse. He was my world. Taking a breath, stroking my nine-year-old pussy through my bikini bottom, I got under the beast. 

His cock was partially out, and it seemed even more massive up close. I touched it, and its heat burned against the palm of my hand. He smelled, but though it was a pungent odor, it wasn't altogether unpleasant. His scent was manly, if that makes sense. I decided that I liked it as I got closer. I knew I couldn't fit it in my mouth. I wanted to. I wanted to be like those beautiful women. Instead, I wrapped my hands around his member. My fingers couldn't even touch each other with both hands. I stroked him and pressed my face against his dick. I wanted his musk on me. I didn't know why, but I felt that was right. So he would know I would always be his. 

His skin was softer than I had expected. For some reason, I had anticipated it to be hard and course. Instead, despite his rod slowly stiffening as I stroked and smeared my face against it, it was so delicate my fingers could lightly sink into the folds. I felt his heft as I touched its entire length. The stories I would write in the future would be about it somehow filling me and making me a woman. Impregnating me. For now, though, I simply started kissing it. The taste was intense and earthy. But it was his flavor, and because of that, I loved it. His feet stamped a bit as I kissed the entire length of the shaft. When it twitched, I gasped. Even now, he was a beast, and his cock was a weapon that could destroy me. But I trusted him. I loved him. So, instead, I continued pressing my lips and tongue all over it. So entranced by his cock, by our new bonding, by our honest love for one another, I didn't hear the barn door open. I didn't hear the steps drawing closer. I didn't hear anything but my own beating heart and the mighty pulse coursing through the dick in my hands.

"Oh..."

That was all that was said. It should have ruined the moment. It should have been the most embarrassing day of my life. Standing there, catching me beneath my closest friend, was the farmhand who kindly helped reassure me when my hymen had broken. The woman stood there, staring at me, only in my bikini, while my lips were pressed against his member. There was no misunderstanding about what was going on. There was nothing that I could say that would explain away my actions as something innocent. I did what anyone would do in that situation when at that age. I froze, a massive slab of horsemeat against my face, as my eyes locked on hers. It was a moment that stretched out for an interminable eternity. My life was about to be ruined. I knew that. My life was over.

Except, it wasn't. As the shock faded from the woman's face, a knowing grin spread across it instead. That grin became a smile as the woman slowly put her index finger to her mouth to indicate she would be quiet, then she snuck back out, and I heard her re-shut the barn door and even lock it. The way she had looked at me let me know that she understood my actions. I wondered if she had loved a horse before as well. There was no recrimination or disgust in her eyes. She knew. She knew just as I knew. At that moment, I felt accepted and a little less alone. And then, with the two of us having privacy once more, I returned to giving my affections to my lover.

Even the bikini was too much, I judged. I wanted to feel his heat against me. His cock was twitching more as I removed what little clothing I had. I was drenched, and I smeared some of my scent on him as well. I stroked his fat member and kissed the head. I craved him now. I needed him to make me his forever in any way he could. I knew what was coming soon. I needed to be naked for him. To be drenched and bathed in his love for me. I pumped the huge cock faster, my fingers dug in harder, and my tiny nine-year-old tongue made out with the massive head. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't fit it inside my mouth. My tongue could dart and slither inside his pee-slit, and the beast twitched as I did that. I held fast, teasing him more and more that way, until I felt a pulse running through his cock. I thought I had been prepared for what was coming. I was not.

Thick, creamy cum gushed out of his member. I was hosed in it as it drenched my face and chest. I swallowed what I could and was honestly shocked by the taste. It wasn't vile or disgusting. Unlike his musk, it wasn't pungent and strong. It was delicious, and I knew at that moment that my every action had been the correct one. We were destined for one another. We were destined for this act. That's why the farmhand had smiled at me before leaving. She knew. She understood. I slumped back on my bottom, gasping, my belly feeling swollen with my stallion's seed. My hair was matted, and his thick cum dripped off my face onto my chest and the hay below. I touched the warm goo, scooping what I could and eating it. It would have been wrong not to. I scraped every drop that I could off of me and licked my fingers until they were clean. With the rest, I rubbed it into my skin, and beneath my lover, I fingered myself for the first time, pushing his love inside me until my cunny was coated with his cream as well. Full, wishing it would get me bloated with his foal, I came. 

Eventually, I had to crawl out from under him. I gathered my bikini top and bottom and stroked his side. I kissed his tip once more, then went to his face and kissed his nose. I stank of my lover, and I had never been happier in my life. Slowly, I dressed and waited outside my home until I saw both of my parents leave. Only then did I head inside, fearful of being caught while still coated in my lover's glaze. I masturbated in the bathroom one more time before showering, wishing I could smell of my stallion forever. But, even then, I knew I couldn't. I washed away the evidence but wrote down the tale of our first time together. And it was just the first time, the first time of many. 

But that is another story.

Chapter 81: Never talk to strangers

Summary:

Allison is a good little girl who talks to someone she isn't supposed to.

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NEVER TALK TO STRANGERS

It was a simple rule her parents had tried to instill in her repeatedly. But Allison was a trusting soul. A happy, innocent girl who only saw the best in people. She was told again and again that bad people were out there, but she never saw any of that. Everyone told her what a good girl she was. Nice older ladies and men would pat her head and tell her that she was so sweet and adorable. Her extended family went on and on about how she never caused trouble, never talked back, and was just a literal angel. She felt pride when she heard such things but never arrogance. To her, just like the animated characters she liked watching on television, it was simply the right thing to do. Given the choice of being nice or being mean, selfless or selfish, why would anyone choose the latter?

Allison's parents were always busy, however, but she was allowed to get off her bus at the library and stay there until her parents picked her up. She could complete her homework, read her favorite manga, and relax until they picked her up an hour or so later. To her, the library was a magical place where she could explore other universes and play with impossible friends. It was her happy, special place. And it was there that she met Steve.

Steve was like most of the adults she knew. He was a friendly giant who went on and on about how smart she was, how well-behaved she was, and how cute she was. She felt her cheeks flush every time he praised her, and her tiny heart would pitter-patter ten times as fast when he put his hands on hers. He wasn't a stranger. He was a friend. He made her feel grown up and pretty. And the first time he patted her thigh and didn't remove his hand but instead slid it upward, it felt weird but not wrong. It felt good. It felt natural.

"Nothing that feels good can be bad," he told her. It felt good to be nice. It felt good to be loved. It felt good to be helpful. All those were undeniably good things. And it felt good to be touched. Why would that be any different? So she let him touch her, his hand hidden under the table. When he whispered for her to part her slim little legs, she did so. The touches felt even better then. He told her to touch herself as well when she was in the bathroom using the toilet. When she was showering. When she was alone in bed. She tried using her electric toothbrush like he had suggested, pressing it against her special little nub. The first time she did, she almost screamed and passed out, so overwhelmed by how good it felt. So he was right. It had to be good. Nothing that felt like that could ever be bad, she knew.

So when he held her hand and asked him to follow her one day, she did. She trusted him, after all. He wasn't a stranger. He was a friend, even though he asked her not to tell anyone about him. Even if he told her to never tell her parents about her touching herself. Especially not about his touching of her. It felt good. And secrets weren't always bad. Her mother had always told Allison never to say anything if she didn't have something nice to say. So, if it meant it might stop, if it meant taking away that pleasure, she simply wouldn't tell them anything at all. She followed Steve and didn't pull back when he led her into the men's room. She knew it was for boys, not girls, but she knew Steve had to have a reason. And she was right.

He did.

He always made her feel so pretty, but when he started kissing her, it was scary. It was scary because it wasn't kisses she usually got, but ones she'd seen in movies. It was scary because he was so much bigger than she was. It was scary because it made her heart beat faster than it had ever beaten before. And it was scary because of how it made her feel.

Wonderful.

She was barely aware that he was unbuttoning her clothes, slowly stripping her, pulling down her panties. His hands were everywhere, fast, but his tongue was in her mouth, his lips were on her neck, and his fingers strummed against what Steve had told her was her cunny. It was a cute name for what cute girls had, he'd told her. She moaned, her legs almost buckling as he made out with the child and tossed her skirt to the floor.

"This may hurt, Allison, but be a good girl and be quiet. It only hurts at the start, and then, by the end, it'll feel good, just like the toothbrush," Steve told her. He was wrong, though. When he lifted her, she wasn't sure what was about to happen, but then she felt pressure at her cunny. It was an incredible sensation as she felt her tiny folds part to take in what she thought must be his fingers. But the pressure kept growing. More. More. Pleasure slowly mixed with pain. She was a good girl. She did as she was told and stayed quiet. But she couldn't stop the tears dripping from her face as her legs spread more and more until she felt something rip inside her. And then, in a bathroom stall, she was fucked for the first time, hanging in the air, a tiny sex doll used by a man 5 times her age. 

The pain did ease, though. Pleasure returned, though not much. Nothing like with the toothbrush. A pleasant heat filled her as Steve shuddered and came inside her. And when he sat on the toilet, she bawled softly as he cradled her. After her tears were spent, he kissed her some more and told her that he loved her. She held him tight. She loved him, too. And so, despite the pain between her legs, she let him dress her once more. He led her out of the bathroom, out of the library, and to his car. He opened the door, and she looked at him.

"Do you trust me, Allison? Do you love me?" he asked her sincerely.

"Yes," she said meekly. 

Her parents had always told her to never talk to strangers. They had always told her to never get in a car with a stranger. But Steve wasn't a stranger. He was her friend. Her best friend. Her special friend.

So, with wobbly legs and panties soaked with white cream, Allison climbed inside, and they drove off. She would never, ever, see her parents again, but she would always be a good girl. Always.

Chapter 82: Bullied

Summary:

A girl is sexually abused and relentlessly bullied for the actions of her mother.

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BULLIED

Every day, they made her life a living hell. Every time she left her home. Not that she was safe from abuse there. The endless stream of random men her mom brought home saw to that. Most didn't hurt her. But they looked. They accidentally walked in on her in the bathroom. She found their dried cum staining her bras and panties. They smelled her hair, slapped her ass, and more than once, she had woken up with their goo still slick on her face or body, cold on her skin where they had dumped their loads while she slept.

And those? Those were the "good guys." Those weren't the ones her mom allowed, or she pretended they didn't walk into her room at night. Or day. The ones who didn't sneak around but were blunt about it. The ones that said no words but just pushed on her head and expected her to start blowing. The ones who bent her over the couch and enjoyed what she had to offer. She didn't fight anymore. There was no purpose to it. Fighting just meant you got hurt. If she was good, sometimes they even gave her money. Just a tip. Her mom got the real cash when they used her. And the worst part? The absolute worst fucking part? Her mom knew she didn't fight. And she still didn't ask or offer to share any of the money.

The bullies knew about her mom. Everyone on the block did. She'd even seen them leaving the apartment, laughing at her, their cocks still wet from fucking her mother. They didn't know her mom sold her as well, though they suspected it. They taunted her about it. They teased her. If they ever caught her alone, they made sure to make her suffer for it. Rough blowjobs, alley rapes, and gang bangs that left her limping home, hours late, where her mother would yell at her for not letting her know that she was going to be staying out and whoring around. Like any of them had even paid for her. She was just trash that the bullies were taking out and dumping more loads into the garbage. Nothing more. So much less.

Just like the men in the apartment, she didn't fight the bullies either. She tried to avoid them. But she didn't fight. Once they got her, she gave in. She'd go to another place, the same place she started going to when she was so tiny, as they did whatever they wanted to do to her body. That wasn't her. Just a set of orifices and cum receptacles. They could have that. They would have that. Her mind would be elsewhere. Someplace that she couldn't be hurt. Somewhere she couldn't be harmed. Afterward, she would clean up and head to school as if nothing had ever happened.

But it did.

And when her belly started to swell, long before she should be having babies, her mom yelled at her. She said she wasn't paying to take care of it. Of her. That it was her responsibility. She'd gotten herself in that mess, and she could get out of it. So she started thinking about how she would do it. Walking to school, the bullies found her again. Grinning, cocks already hard, they backed her into the corner. It was there she decided what to do. Taking her school ID badge, she tossed it on the floor. She told the bullies what they wanted to hear. The prices. The services. She expected them to simply rape her instead. They didn't. They threw the cash her way, and she let them use her. Limp at first. Without resistance. But they wanted her to respond. They slapped her ass. They had paid her, so she started fucking them back. Harder. Gagging herself and grinding on their cocks. She came. 

She finally came.

After that, she never went back to school. She moved out from her mother's as well and got her own place. It was easy since most of her mother's clients followed her. Her new landlord offered her cheap rent and overlooked her age as long as she granted him certain privileges. And eventually, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. A girl who one day would also complain about her mother's stream of endless men, many of which who gave her too much attention. 

Some things never change.

Some things will always be the same.

Always.

Chapter 83: Turnabout

Summary:

Sometimes, the only thing to do when someone treats you like meat is to return the favor.

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TURNABOUT

They need to learn eventually, so why not now? I mean, what's better than a white girl suffocating on your dick? I can think of exactly one thing that's better. Having that bitches' two little cunts choke and gag on it instead. Trust me, that's so much fucking better.

Maybe I should start at the beginning. 

It's one thing to be a minority. To have black skin, be a large man, it causes nothing but fucking trouble most of the time from racist fucks. I thought I was used to that shit. Least, as used to it as you could get that that fucked up shit. But no, they had to go an turn me into a fetish as well. Yeah, big black cock. White girls go crazy for that shit. Course, I know some brothers do the same shit with them as well, but I don't care. But if they gonna throw themselves at me and treat me like a fucking treat, I'll get what I want from them as well. Ten times more. Easy.

That's how I met those stupid bitches' mother. Size queen chasing all the black dudes. Thought she had landed something special with me. I think she's fucked in the head or something. Loves getting treated like trash, wrecked, fucked, and fisted. As long as something huge is in her, she's happy. Fucking crazy rest of the time. But crazy freaky sex is great sex, can't argue that.

If it was just that, I woulda had my fun and bounced already. But it wasn't just her in that shithole apartment. No. That place was drowning in prime pussy. I didn't know if her girls had been touched before at the time, but they seemed too frisky and curious not to have been. I saw how they looked when I got out of the shower. When I walked around in just a shirt and boxers. So, one day when I know their bitch mother is working, I stop by after hitting the gym. I tell them a story about the water being out, ask if I can hit the shower there cause I don't have time to go home. Plausible, right? They told me to have at it. Just like I knew they would.

Getting out of the shower, I walk out into the living room, there they are whispering. Bout me, I'm sure. I make a big show of flexing, making sure to be all casual, asking them about their day, tensing my muscles. Their little eyes were eating me up. Now, I know how to tie a fucking towel. I also know how not to tie one. Their eyes were on my chest one second, then as soon as that towel slipped down, so did their eyes. Any doubt of what I was bout to do faded. Little cunts tongues were wagging, and I gave them something to wet their appetite with.

Now? Now all three of those bitches live with me. But they live with me the same way my Pitt lives with me. Collared like the fucking animals they are. They still fetishize me, I guess. They get to worship the BBC every day. The little ones do at least. I've been saving up their little slits for their next birthday. Gonna breed them good. Until then, I'm gonna stretch those throats for all that they are worth. So fucking nice and tight, watching them get drunk on the only thing they need. My cock and cum. Their mom? Don't care about her. Will probably cut her loose soon, cause that she is, even for me. 

I just can't wait for their twelfth birthday. Those little twins are gonna get wrecked next week. Maybe even get them pregnant. Then the bitches can have a litter for me. Or maybe my Pitt.

Ain't life fucking grand?

Chapter 84: Every morning

Summary:

A father thinks about his daughter and everything she does for him every morning.

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EVERY MORNING

There is something truly special about having your little girl, quickly becoming a woman before your very eyes, kneeling between your legs in the morning. You've done the best you could with her. She's never wanted to for anything in her life. Clothes or toys? She got them. Love and affection? More than any other girl her age has likely ever had. She's never been anything other than your special angel. She's always known how you felt about her. How important she is to you. From the first time you kissed her forehead, the first time you kissed her lips, to the first time you kissed her special lips, all before she was one, she knew how much you loved her. 

You gave her a purpose long before she could speak words or say her name. But it was a purpose, a duty, based on love. Never force. Never demeaning. Never to make her less or break her. It was bonding. It was a shared love, and you always returned the favor. Before she could walk, she could grasp a cock and suck the head. Before she could run, she could work her hips and swallow the white cream. Before she could talk, she craved your fingers. She was your wife, your partner, and the only woman you would ever need, even when she was just a baby. She was the greatest gift ever given to you. People will tell you that money cannot buy you happiness, but that's not true. She was proof of that. Saved from the slums and poverty, she is now more fulfilled than most people will ever be. You gave her that. That and more, and she has returned your love tenfold.

Of course, the teenage years are always tricky. Challenging authority is a natural part of growing up. Bratting has become the norm with her. It's never hateful, never cruel, just pushing boundaries and seeing what she can get away with. She thinks you don't know about all her little rebellions, but you do. She's played with others, both online and in person. People her own age, those younger and older. Spreading her knowledge, but she's a good girl. She takes precautions. She doesn't talk about things she's not supposed to. You let her have her fun. She should have choices. She should explore. It's up to her what she will do. And you know what she does?

She's there for you, every morning, a smile on her face, hot coffee in her hand for you, before kneeling down and loving her Daddy. She chooses to do that. There is no order. There is no demand. No request. And yet, she does it every morning. Every morning, she swallows your love for her. Every morning, she tells you that she loves you. Every morning, you tell her the same. It's your bonding ritual. Proof that the choices you made were correct. Proof that there is no one else in the world for you. Not for love. Maybe sex. But not for love. Only she gets that.

One day, that might change. If she wants to spread her wings and fly away, you'll let her. If she wants to spread her legs and give you a child, you'll do that without hesitation or regret. But that's in the future. For now, you'll simply enjoy her teen mouth, wet around your cock, bobbing up and down. You'll shoot load after load down her throat, on her face, in her cunny, or up her ass. You'll make love to her any way she asks, any way she needs, and you'll see to it that when you do, that she always cums first. From the first time you tasted her, to now, to every time in the future, she'll always go first. Always. Especially when they are angels. Good little girls always get rewards first, and she has always been that. She's always been your little girl. Tiny next to you now, even tinier on you in the past. But always filled with your love. Ever since you bought her, she has always been filled with your love. 

In every way imaginable.

Filled with your love.

Your special little angel.

Chapter 85: Four hundred and seven days

Summary:

A girl makes the mistake of cutting through an alley. A mistake that she will regret, but only for a specific amount of time.

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FOUR HUNDRED AND SEVEN DAYS

Shortcuts are good things, right? They let you get from point A to B in record time. Saving time was always a good thing, especially if you were running late. Sandy had been running late, trying to get to school after oversleeping that morning. She had missed the bus, and even if she ran at full sprint, she would never make it to class on time. But there was always the shortcut. The only problem with shortcuts is that they don't always save you time. And the shortcuts they do sometimes provide aren't about distance or speed, but when someone first experiences some things.

Sandy didn't know about that. A good middle school girl, she only cared about spending time with her friends and avoiding trouble. She wouldn't succeed at either of those that day. Except for one, none of her friends would ever see her again. And she would get in so much trouble, just not the kind she had expected. 

The men who jumped her came out of nowhere. She knew alleys were stinky places that always smelled of garbage and pee-pee. She knew there were sometimes creepy-looking people there who reeked of sadness. Homeless people. What she didn't realize was that alleys sometimes had doors that led to places where people did terrible things. Sometimes, it was as simple as selling drugs. Sometimes, it was as bad as selling people. Sandy didn't run into drug dealers that day. She ran into the latter.

Sandy was a good girl, though. She knew what the men were going to do when they started stripping her. She tried to get them to stop. She screamed. She kicked. She clawed one of them in the face. Sandy would soon realize that had been a mistake. She would quickly learn that their idea of good girls and hers were very different things. But they would teach her their way. She would cry, but she would learn. She would scream, but she would learn. She would do things she never thought possible with creatures that she didn't know people could have sex with. She would become a star before they burned her out. Not that Sandy would know any of that. She would only know pain, torture, and abuse. And how to cum from it. That would be the lesson that she hated learning most of all.

But that was all in the future. Sandy didn't know about that yet. She still had hope. She still had fear. She still felt things. She still believed she was human. She didn't yet know she was just a thing. She hadn't been taught any of that yet.

But the lessons started that first day. She didn't know how many fucked her that day. She thought she had known what sex was. She'd seen it in movies, even some naughty videos on the internet. That wasn't what they did to her. Sex didn't involve punches, but all the men beat her. So many men fucking her on the cold concrete until her knees bled. Punching and hitting and kicking her until her body was covered in bruises. But the bruises weren't only on her outsides. They bruised her just as bad internally. Maybe even worse. Her screams eventually stopped, but not because she had stopped trying to scream. They stole her voice by choking her until she went limp and pissed herself. They stole her words with their cocks battering her tonsils and fucking her throat until it bled.

They took her hymen. They took her innocence, purity, and virginity. They fucked her vagina and told her it was a cunny. That it would never be a pussy, but just a slit or a cunt one day. Just a hole. That first day gave her so much internal trauma and scarring she would never have kids. Which was for the best. Any pregnancy would likely have been terminated with fists and kicks. And that would have been for the best. Any kids born would have only known use. Just like Sandy did. By the time they were done that first day, her cunny (she would never be allowed to call it anything else) would be swollen shut. Every step she would make would make her want to die. 

The worst was when they took her ass. She stopped fighting altogether then. Not because she didn't want to. She just didn't have the energy. She was dead. The pain was too much, so clearly, they were killing her. They weren't. They were tearing her ass. They ripped her sphincter ring. They gave her three STDs that very first day. But they weren't killing her. She was a good girl, and good girls didn't pray to die. She would one day, though. But they would never let her. Not until her final performance. Not until the twelve men, the two dogs, and the horse. Years later, one of her friends would see that video. They would masturbate to the whore getting destroyed in it. They wouldn't know the broken, fucked up skank used to be the sweet girl they had a crush on. They would cum so hard when the horse ripped her insides apart. They would cum so hard because it seemed like the girl that died was cumming, too, right before her end. That would be the last time anyone who knew her ever saw Sandy. Not that he recognized her.

But that was still in the far, far future. That was still about four hundred and seven days from the time Sandy entered the alley. A long life for a girl like her. Four hundred and seven days to make more than five hundred porno movies. Well, five hundred porn movies and one snuff film. Four hundred and seven days to learn new ways to be a good girl. Four hundred and seven days to learn so many lessons. Lessons that she hated. But one lesson that she hated most of all.

Sandy learned it that first day, in the warehouse, in that alley.

That she could cum to anything.

And she would. 

To anything and everything.

She would.

For four hundred and seven days, and then no more.

Chapter 86: He just "knew"

Summary:

A father just knows who his daughter truly is and treats her like he "knows" she wants to be treated.

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HE JUST "KNEW"

"It's ok, you can take it," he told her. He was always telling her things like that. He was always telling her to be a big girl. To be a good girl. She tried. She really did try. But it was so hard. It hurt. It always hurt, even when he told her that it wouldn't. When he told her that it would feel good. He said that all the time. He'd tell her about all the good girls he read about online. About how every single one of them secretly wanted it, so she must, too. How they all got off on it, so she must, too. That she didn't have to pretend. It's what they all wanted. He knew because he had read about it. On Reddit, on Twitter, on Bluesky. The little girls secretly loved being groomed. Being abused. Being nothing but sex toys.

They loved it.

But she didn't. She loved him. He was her father. She was supposed to love him. And she tried. But it was harder these days. It grew harder and harder. She missed the old days. Back when he used to play silly, normal games with her. Back when he made her laugh. Back when things were good. Sure, sometimes he got hard back then. But he'd get a guilty look and go to the bathroom for a long time. Then he'd come back and be her dad again. She missed that.

Now, he just watched videos of little girls with sad eyes. He made her watch them as well. He'd tell her to be just like them, be a good, eager slutty girl with a dripping cunny. She tried to be like the girls, and she was. She started having their sad little eyes. She did the things she was ordered to, just like them. She cried, just like them. And though she didn't know it, she curled up in bed and had nightmares, just like them.

"That's it. That's a good bitch. Daddy knew you could take it. You're a good little whore. Daddy's so proud of you," he told her as his cock popped into her throat and made it bleed. She cried, looking at the only man she'd ever love as he cut off her air and choked her. She wanted to be the girl he wanted her to be. But she couldn't be. She never would be. 

Instead, he slowly traumatized her more and more. She got more and more compliant, which he took to mean that she liked it. That she wanted it. That she craved it. She even sometimes came from it. He slowly stole her innocence from her. Her trust. Eventually, even her love was gone. All that was left was a broken, damaged little girl who would never be able to properly love again.

Maybe she would never date. Crying when someone tried to touch her in love, never able to respond to their sincere affections. Perhaps she would fuck every guy she met. Always on the first date. Because it was expected. Never because she wanted to, but because it's what she had to do, always wondering why no one valued her. Maybe she would have a happy ending. Perhaps she would not.

None of that mattered, though. That was in the future. Now, she was just a little girl. And her daddy knew deep down she wanted it.

He just knew.

Chapter 87: An accidental voyeur

Summary:

A teenager becomes entranced with a young couple making out at the theater.

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AN ACCIDENTAL VOYEUR

"It wasn't like it was something I planned to do. You have to understand that. This all started from a place of innocence. I'm not a slut or a dirty girl. I've always followed the rules and done as I was told. I was chaste, I was pure, and I didn't think about the types of things that skanks did with the bad boys or older men. My concerns were about school, going to college next year, and my future. I worried about my friends and loved spending time with them and being a part of my family. Boys were barely a concern. I mean, yes, I had urges, but that's what cold showers were for, although lately, I had been having lots of them."

"But anyway, back to what happened. My friends and I had always gone to the movies in a group. We'd always sat way at the back. There, we felt safe chatting and whispering without bothering anyone. It was also fun to watch the people. The couples making out. The kids being brats. The adults falling asleep. We'd make up stories about them if the movie was boring. We were there for each other, really. Not the movie. It was just our favorite place to hang out. So you see, I wasn't there to spy on anyone that day. Not like that. I wasn't supposed to be alone. My friends were going to be there. But they all ended up canceling at the last minute. Milly's dad got a flat tire. Sarah's mom got called into work. And Julie texted me as the movie was supposed to start that she had to watch her little brother. I could have left. I should have left. It's sad to watch a movie all alone. But I stayed. I had paid already. So I stayed."

"I wasn't the only person in the theater. There were only two other people there, sitting just a few rows in front of me, as you well know. Thanks to stadium seating, I could see everything that happened. The snuggles. The whispers. Her wandering hands. I forgot about the movie almost instantly. I'd never watched porn. The only sex scenes I'd ever seen were in movies, and in those, they never showed the penis. Heck, half the time, they never even took off all their clothes, which to me always seemed silly. But here it was, another girl I knew from school, Tara, I think her name was, with Billy Thompson. Our local troublemaker, nineteen and a bully by reputation, though he'd never been mean to me. My intention was never to watch. It just sorta happened. I became mesmerized as the high school sophomore pulled the cock free, stroking it. I watched it quickly grow in her hands. And I felt warm between my legs, unable for once to take a cold shower."

"Maybe I should have coughed. Maybe I should have walked out. I could have done a million things at that moment. Instead, I watched. I watched the kisses while she stroked the shaft. My privates tingled as I heard her soft moans as her chest was massaged. I was lost in a way I had never been before. In a way I'd never allowed myself to be before. I managed to stay composed briefly. I had never touched myself. I'd wanted to, but I'd always resisted the urge. I was a good girl. I did the right things. I kept myself pure. That lasted until she started giving head."

"I knew what blowjobs were. I wasn't clueless or naive. I'd just never seen a real one. Just where in movies, you saw the girl's head bob up and down. Nothing more. Nothing shown."

"I hadn't known how beautiful it could be. How sensual. How erotic."

"I had expected it to be disgusting. I mean, dicks weren't exactly pretty. I expected it to be super messy. But it was none of those things. Not even the sounds. Maybe them, least of all. "

"I felt an electric thrill run through me when I heard the first slurps. They were soft. She wasn't gagging on it or trying to make tons of noise. It was subtle, but it was there. Soft kisses, barely audible, as she made love to the entire length. I knew she had to have done it before. She was clearly skilled at what she was doing. It never occurred to me to wonder how a fourteen-year-old could be that good. I only knew that suddenly, my mouth was dry. My heart was racing. My panties? They were wet. For the first time in my young life, I was jealous. Not of the attention a girl was getting but of the attention she was giving. I wanted to know what it tasted like. I wanted to feel fingers intertwined in my hair. I wanted to smell the musk. It took me nearly a minute to realize that I wasn't breathing. That my hands were in places they had never been before. That those feelings I was having were due to me touching my breast, massaging it, and due to the hand rubbing the new tingles between my legs, unbidden."

"I hadn't meant to do any of that. I hadn't meant to moan softly as Tara took it deep in her mouth. I hadn't meant to rub myself faster as my breath began to hitch. I hadn't meant to pinch my nipples and whimper. She didn't notice me. Tara kept working her mouth around the cock, taking it deeper inside her mouth, moaning around it. But then, I was seen. I moaned too loud. I shook too hard. I was grunting, my fingertips were wet, and I was no longer blushing, looking, watching, hidden. I was seen. Her lips looked so beautiful, so wet, a trail of drool connecting her to it. The cock was so thick and swollen, veins bulging along it's shiny heft. But the eyes were no longer on each other. I was seen as I shuddered. I squeaked in humiliation. And I fled."

"I'd never felt more like a pervert in my life. A voyeur. I didn't feel like a good girl. I felt bad. I felt dirty. I felt wrong. That's why I ran. That's why I've been sitting here crying. That's why I've been confessing everything to you. I didn't mean to do it. I really didn't. But I'm glad I did. I'm glad I watched. I'm glad you followed me afterward. I'm glad you've sat here patiently and let me spill my guts to you. Do you... could you forgive me, Billy?"

"Of course I do," he tells me as his fingers reach out to stroke my head. I feel them intertwine with my hairs. I feel him push me down. And for the first time in my life, I open my mouth and feel pretty.

Chapter 88: She never cared for boys

Summary:

A young teen blossoms into womanhood with the help of her best friend.

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SHE NEVER CARED FOR BOYS

She had always been a quiet, lonely little girl. She lived near none of her friends, and her parents were always gone, working late hours. Even though she no longer needed a babysitter to watch her, they didn't want her to be left alone at home. Her parents thought a dog would be good for her. They were loyal and would always be there for her so she would be protected. Their decision made, they took her to the pound, and there, she found so many things. She found her best friend. She found Rex. She found her first lover.

It was innocent at first. Sally wasn't some oversexed kid being directed by pervs online to play with her doggy. Rex wasn't secretly some dog that had been rescued from sex work. They were both as normal as could be. Sally was thirteen. Just starting to blossom. A year or two later, it probably would have never happened. A year or two earlier? The same. But that wasn't what happened. She got Rex just as she was becoming a woman. And that's what changed everything.

Again, there was no perverse intent originally. Sally loved Rex like all kids love their dogs, especially when they spend all their time with them. She walked him every day after school, playing with him in the backyard before going back inside to study. He slept with her every night, sometimes curled up against her, sometimes at her feet, and sometimes even at her head while she used him like a fluffy pillow. It was sweet. It was innocent. It was pure.

But certain things happen when little girls become little women. Their bodies change. They have new scents. And they have new secretions. Perhaps things would have been different if it had happened in winter. If she had been buried under blankets as her body began to grow and swell in new places. Strange dreams that made her feel as she never had before. New thoughts about boys left her waking up excited. And most important of all, the transition from child to woman.

It was summer, and the heatwave had been bad. Their old air conditioner kept the house from being a furnace, but that was it. After school, drenched in sweat, Sally had laid down for a nap. The blankets were too stifling. Her clothes weren't much better. Finally, she gave up and stripped down to her t-shirt, finally cool enough to sleep. It wasn't Rex's fault that he was intrigued by his owner's new scents. It wasn't Sally's fault that she flowered as she dozed, having her first period. The new smell drew a wet, cold nose between her legs. She didn't wake up the first time her dog licked her, but she did after the second. New, intense sensations overwhelmed young Sally as Rex became more than her best friend that day. More than her protector. He became the first "man" to ever make her cum.

After that, things weren't so innocent. Hormones and endorphins are wonderful things, but in young teens, they are so uncontrollable. Left alone, Sally spent more time alone in her bedroom with her dog, naked. She learned that he loved lapping at her when it was her time of the month. When it wasn't, he would only tease her. But the internet helped her there. She learned fun tricks, like using peanut butter on her lips. Her parents were so happy that Sally almost seemed to have a glow about her despite almost always being home alone. She was happy. Any sexually overstimulated teen would be.

She soon started having more urges. Sally's web searches quickly grew more perverse. The anime artwork she masturbated to became intensely sexual. Her thoughts of boys quickly faded. Instead, she watched videos of women and their doggies and started copying all the things they did with one another. Sometimes, such things are just a phase. Normal teen experimentation. A step before finding more traditional releases. Toys. Boyfriends. But not for Sally. Not for Rex. New kinks became permanent fetishes as she gave herself over to her dog, submitting to him. Kneeling under him as he mounted and then knotted inside her. Sucking the dog's cock and swallowing his cum like it was the most natural thing in the world. All at thirteen.

Sally would grow older, but she would never care for boys. Not for men. Not for women. But she would always have her dogs, always regretting that she couldn't have their puppies. 

And yet, she would keep trying, every day, for the rest of her life to have them.

Chapter 89: Natural

Summary:

A woman talks about all the "natural" things that were done to her, and what she now does to her students.

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NATURAL

There is something beautiful about being someone who was once groomed, once touched, once used, and once loved when little. It's stayed with me, fixed, forever. Those thoughts of being sexualized at such a small size, at such a young age, have never left me. My body hasn't forgotten what was done to it and has never stopped craving it. I'll forever associate youth and innocense with sex and fucking and cumming. It's not my fault. My body just remembers what was done to it and now forever considers it natural. I consider it natural.

My mind is the same way. Years of therapy cannot erase those urges, those impulses, those wants and needs. My mind drifts unbidden, forever seeking stimulation, forever hypersexual, trained so early on when daddy loved me, and loved me, and loved me, and loved me, and it never stopped. Not when I wanted it to, and certainly not when I didn't. Even his friends loved me. I was more loved than most women are in their entire lives by the time I was thirteen. Of course, I did get an early start. I don't remember the first time my legs were parted, but they were, and often.

So no one could blame me, right? This urge, this impulse, this attraction isn't something I asked for. I tried to fight it early on. Briefly. Before I just gave up. Before I surrendered to the unending need. But, despite being taken from my father, despite being passed around to dozens of different foster homes where I corrupted so many "good" fathers, I graduated. I was smart. I wanted to teach. I wanted others to learn from me and my past.

They thought my reasons were noble. Because I had suffered "abuse" and such a difficult youth, who else could better teach their children? I knew what to look for, what signs of grooming and incest were like, and of course, I knew how better to reach out to those kids and protect them. They were almost right. They understood almost completely. They were wrong about only one thing. I wasn't there to protect them. 

See, I'm older now. I feel silly dressing up and being the little one. Daddies now looked old to me. My tastes had... changed. I understood what my father had seen in me. What his friends had seen in me. The innocence of the kids around me. My students. They didn't smell like adults. Their skin was so much softer, sweeter, and their movements were so wonderfully awkward and clumsy. They were begging for guidance. And that's something I did for them. I taught them so much.

I easily recognized the ones that were just like me. Overstimulated and always touching themselves. Flinching at any loud sound. Meek beyond any reasonable level for a child their age. I'd pull aside the ones that were going through what I had gone before. I didn't question them to protect them. I questioned them to confirm. To reassure them that what their parents, neighbors, or uncles had done to them was normal. To reach out and make them feel good. To continue the work started before me. Unlike some, I was always gentle. It was a new experience for some of the children. The ones that were always "falling down" and covered in "clumsy" bruises. Their fear of kindness was especially hot. It didn't matter if they were good boys or girls, I made sure to love them. I loved their soft, tiny bodies. I loved their tender little cunnies. I savored their hard, tiny cocks in my mouth. If they seemed willing, they loved me back as well, with their fingers, mouths, and even cute little penises.

Some parents called me after that. Only a few, as most kids were already trained to keep quiet about what happened to them. A good lesson. A useful lesson. I was invited to their homes for discussions. Some left me bruised and used, and some helped me share and teach their children even more, but none of them, not one, stopped me from loving their children. One of the mean parents even gave me a gift, growing inside me as we speak. I'll finally have my own little boy or girl to guide through the world. To teach true love to. To make sure it never ends.

And they'll be just like me. My special students, my child, they'll go on, and most of them will make sure the link remains unbroken. That their children are educated just the same as they were. As I was. Craving their soft, beautiful softness, and making sure the love never ends. It feels wrong otherwise. It would mean we were abused, and we weren't. 

We're just doing what comes naturally to us. And when I'm done, it'll come naturally to them as well.

Chapter 90: The truth about Amanda

Summary:

Amanda is a beautiful teen who keeps to herself, and rumors swirl about her. But only a select few know the truth about her.

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THE TRUTH ABOUT AMANDA

She was one of the hottest-looking girls at school. But she was aloof and rarely had anything to do with the boys her age. Rumors swirled about her, of course, as whenever someone kept to themselves and didn't hang around the crowds you would expect them to.

Some thought Amanda was a lesbian and just wasn't out openly. Perhaps her parents were religious and she didn't want word to get back to them. No one at school would have thought much about it if she were, though plenty of guys jerked off while thinking about her going down on another hot girl. 

Some wondered if she was into older men. It was a common fantasy, and some girls at the school were dating college guys already. Maybe he was even older than that. Perhaps a teacher, or a neighbor, or some sugar daddy? Even more guys stroked off to her being a cocksocket to some older guy, teaching her how to be a good cunt. The choker she always wore just fed into that fantasy for them even more. Some guys even wondered if Amanda's huge tits were even natural. Maybe her sugar daddy had paid for them so his sixteen year old slut would be the perfect bimbo for him.

No one guessed the truth, though later on, after she had graduated, rumors mixed with the truth would abound. It wasn't pussy she craved. It wasn't older men. It was boys. Soft, sweet, quiet, younger boys.

If Amanda herself had been groomed or touched as a child, she never mentioned it to anyone. But she first became a predator herself at twelve, as she babysat the boys in the neighborhood. She babysat girls as well, but they were never touched. Never kissed. Never manipulated. Only the boys got her special attention.

At twelve, she taught so many soft five, six, and eight-year-olds to kiss. Where she learned, no one knew. She never mentioned how she learned what she did. Amanda taught them to play special games. Naked games. And she tasted their tiny cocks, sometimes simply sucking on them, sometimes swallowing their pee, and on occasion, giving them their very first orgasm.  It was clear she loved that most of all. Once the boys started cumming, she always gave them oral, and always swallowed the gift they gave her. Some of the older boys even pushed inside her wet sex, spilling their seed as they thrust excitedly inside her comparitively giant hole.

She kept babysitting, but it soon became clear that it wasn't enough. Amanda started tutoring young boys in elementary and middle school as she started high school. The boys' grades didn't always improve much, but she saw to it that they learned many new things. They learned what a finger up their tight little asses felt like. They learned what it was like to have their tiny cocks sucked hard and what it was like to slide inside an eager pussy.

She couldn't help herself as she got older. Amanda visited the middle school to tutor and assist in after-school activities. But what she truly did was help children, boys, become men. Sucking their soft little cocks. Touching their tender little bodies. Training them to cum, again and again, as she swallowed it and took it into her body any way she could. 

When she became pregnant at seventeen and dropped out, people wondered who the father could be. One of the teachers? Her mythical sugar daddy? Some random guy at a party. No one knew it was a boy named Jeff, who was only ten years old. Not even Amanda knew that. But no one would have guessed a child. She was beyond happy when she found out it was going to be a boy. She kept doing her after-school activities with the boys. She kept babysitting. And she rubbed her belly often, thinking of the child she would soon have, and the things she would teach him, from the moment he was born.

Everyone wondered about the truth about Amanda, except for the little boys. They knew exactly who she was and loved her for it. As would her child, and the children he would place inside his mother.

Chapter 91: Beautiful

Summary:

A young girl just wants to feel beautiful like her older sister.

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BEAUTIFUL

Sally had only ever wanted to be one thing. Pretty, just like her older sister. There was quite an age gap between them, so Ally had always been more developed. Taller. She got to wear makeup first. Dresses that weren't just pink and cute but sexy. She got boobs and all Sally wanted was to be like her. To have cute boys fawn over her like they did her sister. To sneak out at night and just most of all be grown, just like her sister Ally. But Sally was none of those things, only being ten.

Boys didn't notice her, like they did her sister with her ample bosom. She couldn't wear the cute things she wanted to like Ally did. Sally couldn't sneak out to parties since she had no car. So, she simply festered, jealous of all the attention her older sibling got. No one noticed her. Until "he" did.

Sally had been online one day, searching for makeup guides and how to be pretty, when she stumbled into a chat room she shouldn't have. Like many sites, you were supposed to be eighteen for them. So she lied and said she was, like she did with everything else on the internet. It was intended as a sincere question, what she wrote. A simple, innocent statement.

"How can I get prettier?" she had asked. A couple of dozen messages had flooded her almost instantly. Most were gross guys talking about sex or fucking or showing pictures of their cocks. She ignored those. A couple asked her age, but while she didn't mind lying to websites, she didn't like lying to people. She told them honestly. One just left, the other told her to leave. A third, a nice man, told her there was no way an angel like herself could not be pretty. He asked for her email, and though nervous, she gave it, right before she was kicked from the chat.

A few minutes later, the nice man had messaged her and told her that the site was strict about their rules, but that Sally had done nothing wrong. He told her to download something called "Session" and install it, which she did. She then emailed him a long string of silly letters and numbers, and soon he reached out to her on it. He wasn't like the pervs. He was nice and asked for a picture of her. However, he said to cut out her face and make sure there was nothing in it that could identify her. She did as he said, and she glowed when he told her she was beautiful. They chatted for hours, about her life, her school, and for once, she was the focus. Not her older sister. She was. He made Sally feel like she was the most special woman on Earth. It was glorious.

Over the next several weeks, she chatted with him daily. He started giving her makeup tips, linking tutorials, and instructions on how to sit, walk, and move as prettily as possible. She would send him photos and videos. Soon, he stopped reminding her to hide her face, and she stopped caring about being careful. The first time she showed her face, he said that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had cried silently at that simple statement.

Before long, he also taught Sally how to touch herself. To make herself tingle and make her face flush. To make herself quiver and moan. He taught her to love herself and to share that love on camera with him. Sally slowly realized that he was more than her friend. She truly loved him. And when he admitted the same, her heart broke.

"I just wish you could come here. See me. Touch me," she told him over the phone as her body trembled with love, lust, and a torrent of hormones and confused feelings.

"What if I could, my beautiful love? What if I could?" he asked her, softly.

"I... I think it would be the happiest day in my life," Sally told him.

"Make yourself beautiful for me, then. I'm coming," he said and hung up. 

Sally stood there shaking in front of her mirror. She looked at her slim body and touched her budding breasts. She took a step back, smiling at herself, feeling gorgeous. She sat on her bed, topless, and waited for her life to change forever.

Chapter 92: Sara made the team

Summary:

Sara made the varsity track team and can't wait to tell her mother.

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SARA MADE THE TEAM

4.

"Mom, mom! I made the team!" Sara yelled eagerly as she ran inside the house. She ignored the strain of the tryouts and everything after as she bolted into the living room, searching for her mother. She found her in the kitchen, looking bored and smoking a cigarette.

"What are you going on about?" her mother sighed, exhaling, a look of annoyance and disinterest on her face.

"The track team! I did it, Mom! I know you said I was just wasting my time, but I did it! All my hard work paid off!" Sara told her excitedly. She had hoped her mom would be excited about the news. She had expected her to at least crack a smile. Instead, her mother simply stubbed out her cigarette and tapped out another.

"Really? Jesus, they spoil the kids today, don't they? Letting everyone who wants to join, join. Just sad," her mother said, getting up slowly and walking away from her. "Do something useful and clean up the kitchen before dinner, will you? I'll try to find someplace where we can dump all the participation trophies you'll get."

Sara, her stomach clenching, sat down and cried for the second time that day.

2.

Sara didn't know why she wasn't crying more. Just a few whimpering tears, and that was it. She thought losing her virginity in that way would have traumatized her. It should have bothered her more, she felt, but in her top ten traumas, it would maybe be twentith or thirtieth. She just held her legs tightly under the hot water, staring blankly ahead. Eventually, the water started to cool, and then it became cold on her naked skin. She glanced vacantly at her pale flesh as goosebumps grew on it. Between her legs, white continued to leak out of her, and she wondered if she was pregnant. What would she do if she was? That made her gut ache, and she slowly stood and washed herself, cleaning off what sweat remained, washing away his scent, and scrubbing between her legs until no evidence remained.

Sara then slowly dressed and left her school, no longer a virgin. No longer a child. But she didn't feel like a woman. She had what she wanted though. One small victory in her life. It probably hadn't been worth what it had cost, but she didn't care. It was done. Maybe now she could be happy.

1.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I know you tried your best. I wish some of the girls on the team put as much effort in as you did. But you're just not a runner. Sorry," Sara's coach told her as he patted her shoulder. He'd been kind enough to wait until the other girls had left to tell her the news. She wouldn't have to see the disappointment in their faces, or worse, sly knowing smirks about what they had expected. Her heart fell, nonetheless.

"Please, coach, isn't there anything I can do? You know I'll work hard. I'll do anything. Stay late, clean up, bring snacks, anything?" Sara told him desperately. Her top slipped forward as she leaned against his desk, begging him. He saw the fabric shift, the trace of the sports bra underneath, the tiniest hint of her nipple pushing through. 

Her coach had been a good man once. He had never looked at other women besides his wife. He had never intended to be what he had become. But his students, the young girls blossoming into women, had changed him. They just walked around nude or half-nude in his vicinity. Not to tease him, well, a few clearly did, but most were just unaware. He was their coach, not some horny man. And over those years, that urge had become an obsession with him. A weakness. He would never force someone. He would never hurt one of his students. But... if they offered?

"Well, if you're willing to do anything," he said slowly, walking over to Sara. He touched her gym top and straightened it briefly, then very deliberately lifted the fabric and parted it so that it slid down to her waist. Sara froze, her sports bra exposed as her coach leaned over her. "You are willing to do anything, right?"

Sara didn't say anything for an eternity or maybe just a few seconds. Her heart stopped beating. She stopped breathing. She saw the look in her coach's eyes and fully understood what he wanted. Then slowly, quietly, she answered him in the only way she could.

"Yes, Coach."

That affirmation was all he had needed. He turned the slim, young girl around and pulled down her shorts and panties. He bent Sara over the desk, stroking her bald slit and massaged it, as he pressed his weight on her and sucked on her neck. Then, he pushed slowly until he broke her hymen and pressed inside. He took his time. He was careful. He was respectful, all things considered. But he still used her and filled her with his cum. When he was finished, he stayed in her until he was soft, then slapped her ass in what he considered a playful manner.

"Good girl. Welcome to the team. Now, go get showered and get home. Next practice, you'll stay late and... help me clean up," he told her. She straightened up and walked slowly towards the showers, just praying that she would get a smile.

3.

Sara paced outside her home. She had been walking back and forth outside for probably ten minutes, terrified to go inside. She was so excited to share her news with her mom, but she had been disappointed before by her reactions. Sara knew this time would be different, though. It had to be different. This was the varsity team. She would have to be proud of her. She allowed herself to fantasize briefly about her mom hugging her in pride, then pushed that feeling away. That was too much. But a smile? She could get a smile.

She breathed deeply, then ran inside, completely unprepared for the disappointment that awaited her.

Chapter 93: When Tommy met Billy

Summary:

A shy boy is befriended by a new kid at school, who teaches him so many things.

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WHEN TOMMY MET BILLY

Billy had met Tommy in their elementary class and had quickly become best friends. Tommy was everything that Billy wasn't. Assertive. Funny. Charismatic. When Billy hung back in class and was quiet, Tommy sat at the front and spoke loudly. Billy was always the last to introduce himself to new kids, while Tommy chatted with them all. But Tommy had an eye for one kid and one kid only. Billy. He didn't know why, but Tommy only wanted to hang with him.

Tommy had singled out Billy on his first day at the new Elementary school. He was exactly the kind of kid that Tommy liked. Quiet and meek, but not in a weak way. The type of kid that needed a buddy or a good friend to watch over him. The kind of kid who just wants to belong. The sort of kid that wouldn't talk. Tommy's dad had taught him that. About being careful. About who to look for, and who to avoid. And Billy was everything that Tommy wanted.

Billy enjoyed hanging out immensely with Tommy. He was a good kid, but he had a bad streak in him as well. Not mean, he didn't bully or boss other kids, but he liked to sneak around and do stuff that could get them in trouble. Billy followed him behind the bleachers, into the teachers' lounge, into closets, and everywhere else they could go when they were supposed to be at lunch or recess. It was so exciting as they snuck and hid in tight areas. Billy would sometimes feel weird when Tommy pressed against him, his breath hot on his neck or ear, and his tummy would rumble in the strangest ways. But it was exciting. Fun. Dangerous in a way only a kid could think of danger.

Tommy took his time, as his dad had taught him. Bonding with shared "naughty" experiences, that they told no one else, just secrets for them to hold together. He made sure Billy got used to his body against his. He added things he liked from his father. Soft whispers in ear. Hot breathing against the neck. Skin just barely grazing skin. He ached to do more with Billy. He wanted to nibble his ear. He wanted to bite his neck. He wanted to press against the other boy and claim him the way his father had shown him all his life. But he took his time and waited.

Billy was so excited the first time Tommy slept over at his house. They played games all day long, they watched movies, and once everyone in the house was asleep, Tommy had him sneak around with him. They crept quietly into the back yard and just sat out there looking at the stars as both of them fought sleep. When Tommy leaned over and told Billy that he was the best friend he'd ever had, he'd been so happy. When Tommy had leaned over him and kissed him, he'd been so confused. Boys didn't kiss boys. But his lips were soft and firm, and Billy's belly fluttered in that strange way again. Tommy only giggled and kissed him on his nose, and told Billy to keep it a secret. Which he did as he thought about that moment more and more.

Tommy was on cloud nine after that kiss. It was bold. It was too soon. But he didn't regret it. His dad's lips were rough, but Billy's were soft as silk and smooth. Even though they were the same size, Billy felt so much smaller as he had straddled him briefly. He couldn't wait for more, and so he invited his best friend over to his house. Billy's parents came the following week to drop him off, and while they chatted with his father, he took him around his home. They chased each other and had a wonderful time playing video games. Tommy knew his father was watching, but knew he trusted him as well. They played outside until they were sweaty, and that's when Tommy decided to suggest taking a quick shower together before bed.

Billy was anxious about the idea. He'd showered with his parents before a few times, when they were in a rush or he'd gotten muddy, but never with a friend before. It was awkward as he stripped down, but he didn't think too much about it as they both jumped into the walk-in shower. Billy was shocked as Tommy suggested they soap each other so it would go faster, but he did. He also noticed that Tommy's penis was super hard, and when Tommy washed his back, it was rubbed all over his butt. Billy felt his tummy flutter and spin as Tommy hugged him tight, pressing against him, and telling him he was now clean. It felt so loving, so innocent, and then Tommy whispered it was just another secret and Billy nodded, knowing he would keep that one as well.

Tommy helped Billy dry off as they ran to his room. He told Billy he had something super secret and special to show him before they changed to their pajamas. He turned on his computer and brought up a video. A very special video with special kids, just their age. Naked, loving one another as they played secret games. Tommy observed Billy watch in fascination as he sat behind his friend. He told Billy to relax as he grabbed his friend's cock and started stroking it. Billy's soft moans made Tommy even harder as he told Billy that this could be a secret too. Their special secret. Only something for the both of them. Tommy felt Billy nod, meek in a way his friend had never been before, as he pushed him off the bed and told Billy to keep watching the screen. He grabbed his lube and pressed it against his friend's tight ass, while his other hand kept stroking Billy's cock. And then, he told Billy the truth. That he loved him, and he pushed inside Billy's ass and started fucking him, just like his father fucked him. Tommy thrust harder and harder, and when Billy moaned and started squirting for the first time ever, he knew he was safe. His friend would do whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, and he spent himself inside Billy's tight ass. Their friendship, their love, their future was just beginning.

Tommy's father watched the two small boys eagerly from the camera hidden in the corner. Well, it was hidden from Billy. Tommy knew all about it. It's why he had such a good view of the naked boys as his son fucked his friend. He smiled, just as Tommy did, when Billy squirted all over the wall. He watched them as Tommy taught him to kiss. He watched and recorded it all, and one day in the future, he'd walk in on the boys and help Billy learn his place. He was a cute boy after all, but adorable, slim boys could always be cuter. Tommy's dad smiled as he pulled out his cock and stroked, thinking about how tight Billy's ass would be on his cock. How tight his throat would be. Indeed, he would have to make sure that Tommy invited him over constantly. He came, thinking of Billy's future, and how much it would be changing.

And Billy?

He, and later, she, would love all of it.

Chapter 94: The Case of the Cum-Filled Cunny

Summary:

What trouble has our intrepid investigator gotten herself into this time?

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THE CASE OF THE CUM-FILLED CUNNY

It certainly won't be one of your stories they usually hear about. No, they don't write books for kids about that. There are no books called "The Hardy Boys and the Case of the Unexpected Molestation". There isn't a book called "Nancy Drew and the Unexpected Pregnancy". Imagine if there were, though. Wouldn't it be great? The controversy alone would move millions of books, I'd wager.

No, this one will sadly have to go unrecorded. I wonder, will it ruin your reputation? I can see the headline now...

"Kid Detective gets knocked up, denies rumors of drunken, slut behavior!"

The media always loves to tear down their heroes. They hate to be reminded just how fucking pathetic their own miserable lives are, so any time they can point at someone's tragedy, they get to laugh. They get to pretend that everyone else is as shitty as they are. Will they look into the story and make sure she actually whored around? No. No, they won't. At best, you'll quietly disappear or maybe fold up shop. No more investigations for you. At worst, your life will spiral out of control. That's what I'm hoping for. Can you see it? 

"Teen Detective turns 18, opens up OnlyFans!"

Imagine all your prior fans stroking it as you struggle to stay relevant, anyway you can. And before you call me a hypocrite, I fucking know I'm the bad guy here. I've drugged a kid who chooses to put herself into danger, to search out the truth, and am raping the bitch. Who knows, maybe you'll triumph. Maybe you'll solve the mystery of your own rape. Perhaps you'll get justice. 

Maybe.

All I know is that it only took looking up your information on the internet, finding out where you and your mom lived,  a few tranquilizers in your food, and hacking the app that tracks your periods to know when you would be the most fertile. The most ready. It's not like you were an angel, not that you pretended to be. But there wasn't a hymen to bust when I pushed in your sweet, tight cunny. Maybe you lost it on a prior adventure. That would be hot, some unknown history. Maybe one of the times you got captured in your stories, something more happened. Maybe the gang members all took a turn and you edited that part out. Perhaps not, but it's fun to think about.

What I do know is that you are fucking tight. It's all I can do to not nut in you instantly. But, it's times like these that I savor my victories. I've been saving up for weeks, not touching myself once, just to make sure I fill you with lots of baby batter. After that, maybe I'll take your ass, but I don't think I want you to know you were raped. Maybe I'll clean up the evidence, straighten your clothes, and wait. Wait to see what happens. Wait to see you rushing to the store, desperately buying some pregnancy test strips. That will get the whispers going. 

Yeah, I think that's the way to go. You'll wake up with a headache, assuming you pushed yourself too hard and just crashed. Maybe your pussy will ache, but a bit of numbing cream should hide that for long enough. I don't need to be rough. This isn't about hurting you physically. This is about ruining you, you little cunt. This is about reminding you of your place in the world. This is about years of pent-up frustration, being taken out on a frigid little bitch, just like I did your mother.

So sleep tight, my daughter. I'm about to give you a new case to solve.

Chapter 95: Immaculate

Summary:

An ill girl gets abused regularly at a religious institution until a "miracle" happens.

IMMACULATE

God loves all the sick little girls.

That's what my parents had told me. That this was just one of the Lord's challenges and that one day, I would be healthy. That one day, I would be full of life and could go outside without fear of my illness causing issues. That this was only a test, and my purity and their prayers would let me be blessed by my Savior, and I would live happily ever after.

That was all lies. Just fucking lies.

What I got was a life inside a religious private hospital that barely believed in science. In medicine. During the day, the nurses prayed over me and lavished me with attention, if not with the medicines and care I dearly needed.

During the night, the orderlies preyed on me and lavished me with attention, if not the solitude and dignity that I clearly wanted.

They took my virginity. My innocence. They took my will. My hope. All while people told me it was God's will. It was God's will for me to be weak and ill. It was God's will for me to be a cocksleeve. It was God's will for me to be raped every night for five years straight. It was God's will for me to suffer. To be used like a cumrag. To be knocked up by the time I was thirteen.

Even that was a "miracle". Immaculate. More like years of ejaculate. My parents couldn't believe any good, Godly people would hurt me, so those were nightmares I had, nothing more. The nurses and the doctors knew the truth, but see, the truth wouldn't set them free. They had ignored the abuses by their staff for decades, hiding it. So, evidence was deleted, inspections of my genitals found "nothing", and the orderlies were never fired. And when night came, I would be punished for my "lies". Punished again and again, until everyone had had a turn, even some of the other patients. 

Sometimes, eventually, I would even "lie" just to feel something. To feel those men of God in my cunny, fucking me, using me, making me feel anything other than broken and wrong. As my belly swelled, I realized I would never escape. I would never be "healthy". And the abuse would never stop. When I had my baby girl, my parents took her. I was too sick to be around my "blessed" child, you see.

One night, they fucked me so rough that my pussy bled. I thought about killing myself as they gangraped me. As they promised to give me more "Immaculate" children or to ruin me so bad I could never have kids again. I thought about walking off the roof. Slicing my wrist. Taking too many drugs. They were wonderful thoughts, but then, as one of the fat bastards raped me on the floor, I saw a scalpel, dirty and discarded. I let him finish in me. I even came when he did, despite my cervix being bruised and my cunny leaking more red than white. And as I smiled at him, I gave him a slash on his neck. It parted like the Red Sea and flowed just as much. It was beautiful.

Covered in his red love, leaking his white, I turned on every oxygen tank. I  burned paper in the next room, and I ran. I ran even as I knew I was condemning the innocent and evil alike. One of my rapists ran toward me as fire erupted behind. He saw the blood on me, thinking it was mine. An immaculate gash miraculously formed on his throat, as more red love washed over me. I left the asylum, much like I would have left the talking bush, burning as I went to get my baby. 

A miracle would happen at my home when I returned. God would judge my parents unworthy and would strike them down. I would only be his instrument. Each of my parents briefly woke, their looks shocked as they wondered why they couldn't breathe with their windpipes cut open. Then I took my baby and we left.

I didn't die. I wasn't sick. There was nothing to pray away. My mind was clearly as strong as my body because now I knew. I knew things with certainty. I knew what the men who stared at me wanted, and I knew how to use my cunny to get what I needed. If they were nice, I would be too. If they were mean? Well, I knew what to do to them. And I would, preying on them for the rest of my life. 

Chapter 96: A girl's best friend

Summary:

A very young, but very skilled young girl goes to the park to find a new best friend.

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A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND

It always caught men off guard when she made the first move. Their panicked looks as they expected the cops to arrest them, as if they would use an actual preteen to entrap them, especially one exposing herself. They figured that out themselves quickly, that no cops were coming for them, and that it wasn't a trap. But they kept looking around. She knew why, of course. She did the same, before they did. Before she exposed herself to them. They were looking for witnesses. In case she decided to fib, or call for help, or was playing some weird little game. And she is, but exactly the one the men were hoping for.

Once they felt safe and their eyes returned to her fully, she made sure to smile at them. She lifted her slim hand, beckoning them to come closer to her. It was usually early at the park, sometimes late, but she preferred the older men in the morning. They were almost always retired, getting in their exercise. She could see their cocks stiffening as they approached her. Common sense had left them, just a primal urge running their minds, as they stared at her exposed, hairless slit. They knew it was not a pussy. It's not a cunt. Only one word sufficed for something that small and soft. Cunny. Hairless, but not because it was shaven. It wouldn't need to be shaved for years, and they knew it.

When they approached, her hands got to work. They moved with a practiced skill and expertise that was undeniable. None of the men got softer as they realized the young girl pulling their cock free had likely been fucked most of her life. Every one of them grew harder as her soft mouth easily took in their cocks. Only the largest of them ever gagged her, and that emboldened the ones who didn't. They realized the tiny child wasn't a girl. No, she was a slut, a whore, a cocksleeve, and better yet, the child knew her purpose and embraced it. 

They weren't wrong. She was all those things. She knew when to act innocent. She knew when to show her truth. She knew when to part her legs and moan and when to open her mouth and suck. She never had a chance to be a normal child, but she would also tell you that she's happy. That she wanted this. That she needed it. Regardless of her past, that was now all true. She would cry and curl up, unwanted and feeling rejected, contemplating hurting herself if she didn't do what she did, if she didn't get the love from the random strangers at the park. From her Daddy and his friends back at home.

And now, eager, thrusting in her mouth, she leaned back for the man. Sometimes it was a group of men. By now, they were just beasts, but if a dog could be man's best friend, could not a horny, needy pedophile be a girl's? She took him, or them, in her, as they thrusted roughly or gently, it doesn't matter which, until her tiny cunny was wet, stretched, and filled deeply by them. She always held them tight as they cum in her, thanking them softly for their love, as they slowly regained their mind. Most of them fled afterward. Some pulled her away for an hour, a day, or once, a week, to keep enjoying her. But she always got released or escaped and went back home.

There, her daddy heard her tales and then tended to her body. His child's tiny, nubile, soft, wanton body. And he'd reclaim her, again and again, until she was truly his again. Then, the cycle started all over, as she went to the park, waiting quietly in the morning, to find a new best friend.

Chapter 97: Lonely little girls make the best pets

Summary:

A little girl is slowly groomed by her neighbor into something new.

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LONELY LITTLE GIRLS MAKE THE BEST PETS

Lonely little girls are the best. That's what Valorie was. A lonely little girl looking for a father figure. Someone who would tell her how proud of her he was. Her mother worked so hard, two jobs, to make sure that her daughter went to a decent school and didn't lack for much. Other than a parent being present. Other than a father. Other than a man to smile at her and pat her head. Luckily for Valorie, I lived next door. Retired, I noticed the girl quickly and saw her alone so often. I knew to bide my time, though. I didn't rush to give the little girl the attention she craved. I made sure to befriend her harried mother first. Saying hi in the morning. Saying hi in the evening. Whenever I saw her struggle, I rushed to her side to offer my help, always kindly, never flirtatiously. I knew she would say the words I wanted to hear sooner or later.

"Thanks for the help, do you want to come over for a drink?" Valorie's mother asked me.

I didn't, not really, as I cared nothing for her. And she wasn't trying to lure me into her bed. She was fishing, yes, but the truth was, little Valorie was the catch, not me. I chatted with the mom, telling her a story about how my kids that don't exist had moved away, and how I hated never seeing my grandchildren on the other side of the country. I showed her some edited photos on my phone, and I saw the excited glint in her eyes as she finally did what I wanted.

"You mentioned you are retired. I don't want to impose, but would you like to watch Valorie after school? I'd be happy to pay," she told me. I smiled, having gotten what I wanted, as she was so happy to think she had gotten what she had wanted. I made a show of thinking about it, then agreed, making sure to insist on a ridiculously low price, because I was so clearly out of touch on such things. I had already met and politely talked to Valorie many times, so she knew me as the nice man who always gave her a popsicle when it was hot.

Thus started my babysitting of Valorie. I took my time with the girl. I didn't start doing anything other than making sure she followed my orders, and always praising and rewarding her when she did. I doted on the attention-starved child, listened as she talked, and watched her shows with her. It was almost too easy. After a month, she was eager to do whatever I said, because she knew she would get treats and rewards if she did. She loved cuddling with me, and after 3 months, she often curled up on my lap as I gently stroked her hair. I was her safe space, her rock, her Daddy in training. 

So, once trained, when my stroking of her hair instead turned to gentle stroking of her belly, her thighs, her back, she said nothing. When we played games like Dogs and Collars, she wore her pretty pink collar and knelt like a good little girl, eager for her treats. And when I said something was secret, just between us, she nodded eagerly to keep it exactly that way. It was too easy.

And now? When she gets home from school, she knows exactly what to do. She comes to my house, strips naked, puts on her collar, and becomes my good little girl. My good little doggie. A doggie that is loved, rewarded, and made to feel good. She knows when she obeys, she gets treats, presents, and even her little pink wand that she loves between her legs. She knows how to make me cum and always swallows, showing it off before she does. We cuddle, naked in bed, as we watch cartoons or special movies of good girls just like her.

And we make plans for one day in the not-so-distant future. Going on a trip to another country, of marrying her, and making her a mom. A good doggie mom who will always be there for her children. She trembles as I touch her and tell her about our future. The leash around her neck, which she now craves because it's a symbol of love. She aches to get the love she needs now, constantly, and soon, she'll have everything she wants. 

As will I, with my new, forever pet, and all the "puppies" she'll give me.

Chapter 98: Lights, Camera, Crying!

Summary:

A little girl gets a promise if she only does what the bad man tells her.

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LIGHTS, CAMERA, CRYING!

Well, hello, little one. And how are we doing this fine morning? Aww, now now, my little angel, there's no need to cry. Are your arms hurting from last night's fun? Your audience so loved watching the razor blades dance along your delicate skin. You got so many posts talking about all the wonderful things they want to do to you. To make you prettier. To make you better. And don't you worry one bit, my beloved. I made sure your family got a copy of the performance as well. I'm sure they loved it every bit as much as I and your fans did. Why, your parents even said it was the best thing you ever did. That this is what your life has been leading to. Isn't that great?

Aww, now don't start bawling, I was lying. Your parents probably don't even care that you're gone. Why, they don't even go on the news anymore to beg for your return. Not that they'll be happy when I eventually do send you back to them, piece by piece, but that's not gonna happen for a long time. Weeks at least. Now, now, stop crying. Today is a special day. Today is a day in which I'm not gonna hurt you at all. If you do everything I say, your body will only feel good. I won't touch you, cut you, or rape you once. Scout's honor. 

Ok, now let me just get the camera set up. You're just gonna repeat what I say now. You're gonna look at the camera, at your audience, at your parents, and you're gonna do exactly as I tell you. You do that, and not only will I not hurt you, I'll give you something to drink that doesn't have my piss in it and a real meal. Food that I would eat. I see that spark in your eyes now, yeah, real food. Just do what I say, and I promise it'll feel good, and I won't touch you. Seriously, I mean it. You'll feel nothing but good today. I won't make promises about tomorrow, but on my mother's soul, you won't hurt today.

Ok, the camera's started, but it's currently muted, so they won't hear me. I just want you to start rubbing your body and look at the camera. Yes, rubbing it that way. But you don't have to be rough or anything. Focus on making yourself feel good. Yes, I know it's humiliating, little one, but if you want to feel something nice today, you have to do this. That's right, make sure to slide your finger in. Slowly though, I know you're tender. I want you to feel like you're blossoming. I want to reward you with something wonderful for everything you've given me and your fans. 

Mmmmm, keep going now, I'm gonna turn on the audio so your loving audience can hear you. Yes, they can hear the sloppy sounds your fingers are making, but it feels good, doesn't it? Be honest, after everything that you've been through, doesn't this feel wonderful? Just close your eyes and enjoy this. You've earned it. That's right, faster, faster. I'm so proud of you, my angel. My little girl, you're so close. Keep chasing it, let it build up, let that little cunny explode. That's right, that's right. I'm muting it now, but remember our deal. Do what I say and you'll only have good things today. Think about that meal. Tell the audience that you want this. That you deserve this. Moan like the whore you are and cum. Now, say it now!

...

Oh, my glorious, beautiful, tiny little babygirl. That was so real as you muttered those words as you came. It was beautiful. Your audience is going wild, and they can't wait to see what's next. Your parents, I'm sure, will love it too when I send it to them. When they've seen what you've become. I bet that moment, where you moan, squirt, and say you deserve this and want it, will be the moment they truly die inside. Everything after will just be a formality. 

What's that little one? Why am I taking off my clothes? What do you mean why am I taking off my clothes? Are you stupid? I'm gonna fuck you now. What? Wait, you seriously fucking believed me? Are you retarded? No wonder why your parents aren't looking for you anymore. If you're stupid and desperate enough to believe anything I say, you deserve what's about to happen. And don't worry about the tears. 

Now? Now I want to see them.

Chapter 99: Don't gaslight me

Summary:

A young girl rejects all the lies that her "rescuers" tell her.

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DON'T GASLIGHT ME

They lie to me. They sit down in front of me every day, and they just lie and lie and lie. They tell me mean things like my Daddy didn't love me. That what he and his friends did was wrong, sick, and evil. But I'm not stupid. I know what the truth is. I wasn't kidnapped. He saved me. I wasn't groomed and raped. He loved me. He never hurt me. He simply wore me out with nonstop attention. I know the truth. And I'll never believe their lies.

Was it evil when he parted my tiny infant legs and softly licked my special place after he changed my diaper? No, he was just making his special little girl feel like an angel. That's not evil. That's love.

Was it wrong when he took me from my mother? No. Because she was going to send him away, all because she found me loving his cock with my mouth at three years old. Taking him away and never letting me love my father again, now that would have been wrong.

Was it sick when he shared me with his friends and let me feel more loved than I ever had been before in my life? No. What was sick was denying me that love and trying to gaslight me into thinking any of it should never have happened.

I know what happened that night the cops came. I had so many sweet words written on my body. Words that were true, honest, and weren't written to degrade but to celebrate who I am. I was covered in so much love. It clung to every inch of my body. My cunny, my ass, my face, and my chest. My thighs were coated, and my belly was almost swollen with it all. That's not sick. That's not wrong. I'm lucky to be so loved and wanted. Lucky.

Was I tired when they came in? Yes, but what kid isn't tired after playing all day and night? That's natural. That's normal. I wasn't scared of the cock fucking my throat. I wasn't scared of the line of men taking turns between my legs. I wasn't scared until those strangers came in, guns waving, screaming. That was scary. Everything before that? Love.

And now they try to tell me that it's wrong to use that word. Cunny. That it is a bad word. No, vagina is a bad word. There is no affection there. Nothing cute. Cunny means cute, special, smooth, and beautiful. Fuck that word makes me feel pretty. Now I'm not supposed to touch the boys. I'm not supposed to touch the girls. I'm not supposed to pull the janitor into the closet and suck his cock. I'm not supposed to fuck the orderly. They don't care about me. They want to make sure I'm alone, unloved, with people only pretending to care as they tell me lie after lie about what is normal.

I know what is normal. One of the orderlies likes me. He likes me lots. He's going to help me get out of the hospital before my mom arrives to make me unhappy and miserable, and see that I'm never loved again. But I won't be here when she arrives. I'm leaving tonight. I already used the orderly's phone to call some of my dad's friends. Ones that didn't get caught. They'll come get me. They'll save me from being unloved and unwanted, and I'll never be alone with lies again.

I know the truth about love. Don't try to gaslight me.

Chapter 100: You're welcome

Summary:

A man on a special video talks to his audience about what they want and need.

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YOU'RE WELCOME

Her soft moans, her tiny grunts, and her tender whimpers are such perfect gifts to me. Her puffy cunny, her asshole, stretched so wide, makes me feel things every father should feel for his innocent little girl. Yes, those anal beads are huge in her adorable little tush, but don't worry. They're lubed, and her sphincter is so wonderfully stretchy. You see, she's been trained all her life. She doesn't hate the attention. Who would hate special, secret, daddy-daughter bondage time? Oops, silly me, that's tomorrow. Bonding time. Of course, I only meant bonding time.

I hear you already, of course. What I'm doing is sick. It's disgusting. It's wrong. But I know what you're looking at. The gentle curves her smol ass. Her perfect little feet and the way that they are twitching as each ball pops out. Her adorable little panties with the little blue bow. And most of all, that hairless mound, dripping, not only with lube and sweat, but more. Your nostrils are flaring, trying to smell her sweet nectar. The taste of it is on the tip of your tongue. Yes, it does taste amazing, I promise. You're thinking about reporting this as you watch it. Watch her. Report the bad man, but... maybe, just maybe, you should stroke one out first. It's ok. Reach down there. I know you're hard. 

Plus, if you're gonna report me, report this video you're watching, you need to know what you're reporting, right? You'll need to convey all the details about the sickness. Maybe confirm my daughter's age, and yes, she is my daughter. Check to see if those are moans of pleasure or abuse. I wonder which one you're hoping for? See what sick, twisted, degrading acts I do with her. I'll save you some time. All of them. There isn't a body fluid that hasn't been fucked out of or into her. It's not just her Daddy loving her. Her Mommy will be in this video later. Better wait and confirm that. And that barking you hear in the background. Yes, even that. In every hole. And maybe her little or older brother will join in. You need to check that out, don't you? You'll need to report what toys and objects are inserted into her. How many times she cums. Well, that's an odd thing to report, but sure, that too. Oh, and how many loads she gets on her face versus in her mouth, her ass, or her cunny.

By the way, this isn't the only video. See that up in the corner, that's our Session, Telegram, and Element. For the right amount of money, we won't send you the compilation but the raw videos. That way you can... detail... our crimes even more. That's what you really want. Because we're the sick ones, and you need to see all the proof before you call the police on us. I know, I mean, look at how well her tiny, five-year-old ass takes those huge ben-wa balls. How many cocks have been in that ass? How skilled is she at blowjobs? Can she ride a man cowgirl style? Just send us the money through Cash App, and we'll give you the answers to all of that.

But, is that really enough evidence? You need more, don't you? In this age of AI, age play, and fakery, don't you really need to confirm this depravity firsthand? Of course you do.  Then you'll be able to report us. You'll be able to "save" my daughter from the lifetime of use that she begs for daily. You'll be able to make sure she's real, that she is only five, and that that cunny tastes as good as it looks. Just reach out to us, and we'll let you visit. It'll cost you more, but what price justice? You'll be a hero, and you'll get to know exactly how tight that ass feels around your cock. How it squeezes and milks you. How expertly she makes you cum.

That's what you want, isn't it? Oh, dear me, there's a mess all over your desk now, isn't there? How did that get there? I bet you're wondering more, though. What's her older or younger brother like? Does she have a slutty teen sister, thirteen and already fucked out? Or maybe, does she have a little sister, that maybe you could be the first with? Just to collect more evidence, of course. Right? That's what you want.  Right? Of course it is. Why else would you need to know all that?

Don't worry. We understand. And for the right price, we'll give you all the answers, and you can taste and touch and use everything yourself. Because you aren't going to report us. You're already stroking again. I know that because I was you once. A good man, conflicted and horny, watching a perfect little angel do things you didn't know a little child could do. Check that bank account. How much can you move without your wife noticing? Figure that out and contact us. Everything is negotiable, and everyone is for sale. Even her infant sister. That got your attention, didn't it? Good, we'll be waiting. She'll be waiting for you. Legs spread wide and with a smile on her face.

Go on, get that money and contact us. I know you want to. I know you will. I was you once. Reach out, and drown in depravity. We're waiting. She's waiting. Get her now, before she gets older. And then, save up and get her infant sister. 

I know you want to. I know you will.

I was like you once, and soon, you'll be just like me.

You're welcome.

Chapter 101: The cycle never ends

Summary:

This is the last planned story for Tiny Depravities for a while. I will add to it, but from this point on, it will be sporadic and only when a short story strikes me. I'll be focusing on longer stories for a bit, and I hope you enjoy them as well!

A man talks about being shown what true love is and how he came to continue a cycle that should never end.

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THE CYCLE NEVER ENDS

It's a phrase you hear often in life, isn't it? The war in the Middle East. It just goes on and on, in a cycle that never ends. Poor families that struggle with drugs and alcoholism. Passed down from generation to generation, the child learning from the parent, in a slow, sad race to the bottom. The grandparent who beat the parent who now beats their child and who will, in the far-flung future, beat the child they one day will have. The cycle never ends. Always framed as something awful. Tragic. Wrapped in violence, addiction, and abuse, where people only rarely escape.

However, not all cycles are bad. The seasons come and go, but they always return to us every year. People die, but more are born, bringing fresh life to the world. And love continues, no matter what, even when challenged, even when called out as "wrong", and even when hidden, love continues. You can't assume that it will. You have to work at it. But if you find the right partner, you can see to it that her experiences get passed on to the next generation. That the cycle never ends. That the journey of love continues, from the past, to the present, to the future awaiting us all.

My wife was well-loved growing up. She wasn't harmed. She wasn't abused. She wasn't groomed. She was cherished. She was taught the beauty of children, how precious they can be, and how they can serve in ways both innocent and mature, sweet and sexy, loving and sensual. She was taught by both her mother and father, who pulled her teeny body into their marital bed, on how to love and share joy. She was trained to help teach her sister and brothers, and how to share her love with other friends and family. There is nothing wrong with love, ever, I believe. She was a happy, jubilant child who experienced only joy, pleasure, and nonstop affection. We should all be so lucky.

I know I wasn't that lucky. My family only taught me fear and pain. They taught me not to trust others who were different from me. They taught me that love was conditional and earned. They taught me that abuse was normal. To be insulted, to be slapped, to be mocked was "just how families are". I was taught religion and to pretend to be one way in public, while my family broke every tenet just about in private. That was what I knew, what I understood, until I met my wife in college.

She taught me so many things. She showed me the lies that had been fed to me, and eventually, she admitted truths that I struggled to reconcile. I had been told my entire life that certain things were wrong. Evil. Sick. That only bad people would do them, and it could only traumatize and hurt children. But I had been traumatized. I had been beaten by "good" people that everyone respected and liked. And yet, here was this angel, this woman, who had only known love and craved giving it, showing me what kindness, happiness, honesty, and devotion truly were. I was supposed to hate her. Report her parents. Condemn the things she thought and said.

But I didn't.

She told me stories of her growing up as she stroked my cock, kissing me and my chest, as she told me how she never once doubted that she was cared for. That she was special. That she was precious. How it felt to be so little, yet so loved. Everything in my life said what she was saying was an abomination, but it felt so fucking good, and I exploded again and again to the truth she was telling me. I met her parents. They weren't hateful, deceitful demons. They were kind and loving people who welcomed me with open arms. I met her brothers and sister, every one of whom I knew she had made love to, and they were, to a person, happy. My family treated her like shit, on the other hand. She wasn't from the right religion. She wasn't from the right ancestry. She wasn't conservative enough and didn't hate the right people.

After that night, meeting my family, I never talked to them again. I instantly proposed to her and thanked her for everything that she had shown and taught me. About love. About life. About truth. She accepted.

And now, you may ask? Now I'm a father to a wonderful little girl. My child sleeps with us every night, and as I thrust into her mother, my wife eats her slim cunny until her taunt, naked body shudders and gushes. She showers with me and gently strokes and sucks my cock until I fill her tiny little belly with my love. She regularly visits her grandparents, who teach her new things and give her special toys to make her quiver and shudder. She'll never be slapped in the face and told she's going to hell. She'll never be told she's not good enough. She'll never know hate. She'll only know what it's like to be loved in every way possible. Tender, gentle, loving, romantic, sensual, orgasmic love. Society told me my entire life that it was wrong, but it was all a lie.

When I lay my child naked on the bed, when she spreads her legs for me, not because I told her to, but because she wants it, I know what I'm doing is the right thing. When my wife fingers our daughter gently while her little lips bob up and down on my cock, I know I'm doing the right thing. When she plays with her cousins and their hands and mouths are exploring every inch of one another, I know I'm doing the right thing. And now, my wife's belly is starting to swell, with what I'm hoping will be our son. A son that my daughter can teach and love, just like my wife taught her siblings. A family that will never know pain, never know abuse, never know hatred. A family that only knows two things. Pleasure and love. 

And that, my friends, is a cycle I would never want to end.