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AnonyMPC's Phil Phantom Tributes (usually Mg+, lots of inc, extreme) AnonyMPC 16/08/04(Thu)01:19 No. 24543 ID: a609fb

Since these are usually shorter and with less of an audience than my regular works, and threads on this board last long periods of time, from now on rather than posting them in individual threads, I'll post all my Phil Phantom Tributes in this thread, sort of like Nicholas Fellheimer's thread.

For my past tributes, or for my other work in general, you can always check out http://www.asstr.org/~AnonyMPC/

PP tributes are my attempt to honor the style of a bygone and extremely prolific author of smut fiction, and also play with plots and themes that I don't think can support and in-depth character examination. They're usually quick, vulgar, unrealistic, and, I hope, fun for some of you.

Next post I'll start with the most recent one.


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The Go-Between (Mg, MMg, Fg, ws, inc, some nc, preg, more) AnonyMPC 16/08/04(Thu)01:24 No. 24544 ID: a609fb

My summer started as a drag but got a lot better.

See, Momma had a lover she couldn't see anymore, and promised Daddy she never would see again, and Momma kept her promises. But a promise doesn't make feelings go away, and she never made THAT promise, that she'd stop loving Tino, or that she'd stop talking about him, wishing out loud he could fuck her one more time, or that they could kiss. Not just in front of me, but sometimes at the dinner table she'd say something like, "God, I miss that cock, though, it was impressive." Whenever Daddy was around I always stared somewhere else and pretended I hadn't heard, even a few months into the new arrangement when I had reason to agree about Tino's cock's impressive look, manly taste, or incredible feel, having had a chance to sample all three for myself. When it was just us girls around, that was one thing, I might tease her about it or even ask questions, like about how she fit it all in, but it was embarrassing to hear her talk that way in front of Daddy. Daddy didn't seem to mind though, except when Momma mentioned his name, that got him really steamed, but even when she didn't, we all knew who she was talking about. I asked Daddy about it once, he said everyone had their wishes and fantasies, and that was okay, but the essence of love was keeping promises.

I may have just been eleven when that promise was made, back just before the start of summer, but I thought that stunk. To me, the "essence of love" was wanting somebody else to be happy, even if it's with someone else. Like that old saying, if you loved something, let it go. When they were fighting really bad, I even kinda thought it might be better if Daddy had just let Momma go to be with Tino. Daddy could have found a girl who was head over heels for him, Tino could be my new stepdaddy, and everyone would be happy, or at least they wouldn't be yelling or miserable. And hey, I'd get twice the presents on my birthday. And maybe a second bedroom to decorate. Tino lived just down the street, if Daddy kept our house and Momma moved in with him, it would barely even be like a divorce, I'd still see everyone all the time no matter who I was living with.

Instead it was kind of like an anti-divorce, Momma kept the house and the husband and the cute daughter and somehow lost custody of Tino.

I hadn't. Nobody ever made ME promise not to see him, and I liked him. He was a lot different from Daddy. Obviously they looked pretty different. I mean, Daddy was pale like us, and pretty skinny, and he never let his blonde hair get long enough to get in his eyes, while Tino looked like some kind of wild man, with long dark hair down to his shoulders and golden skin and looked like he either worked out all the time, or that he didn't need to work out, that God just carved him out of stone that way like Momma said (although she usually adds 'with a cock like granite'). So sure, he was good looking. But plenty of guys were good-looking. What I liked about Tino was that he was nice. When he and Momma were doing their cheating thing, she'd take me over there after picking me up from school and he'd let me play his Playstation while Momma had a "massage" session that involved a lot of moaning and banging and left Mom weak in the knees afterwards, but before and after, Tino was always friendly, treated me like a friend he was happy to see rather than a kid, spent a few minutes with me and asked me about my friends in school or how classes were going, and sometimes he'd cook me up some spicy Italian sausage so I'd have something to eat while I was waiting for them to be done. So even after the big fight with Daddy, which ended in Mom's promise, I still saw Tino, and talked to him for a few minutes when I saw him. In fact, I was the one who had to give him the news. Talking to him on the phone or Facebook would break the promise, so Momma had me go over there to tell him.

It was a little weird telling this guy, my Mom's friendly but handsome massage therapist, that Momma couldn't see him anymore, that she still loved him, that his cock made her feel like a real woman for the first time, that his cum was wonderful and delicious, but that she could never speak to him again, except through me. That was pretty well the exact message. Momma made me memorize it, and wouldn't let me change any of the words. He cried quietly when he heard it. Then later Momma cried when I told her that he said he would always love her, and would miss not just her body (which he also described in detail the parts he liked, mostly her vibrant red hair, her long legs, her butt that apparently wouldn't quit, her tight, thirsty pussy, and her delicious-looking small boobs... his words, not mine... they didn't seem small at all to me) but also her soul. He said that the fantasies they shared would keep him warm at nights and anyone else he fucked would be just a minor substitute for her and he hoped she didn't mind because his body had needs. Then I had to go back that same day and tell him that she understood his needs and approved of them but that she'd consider it a personal favor if he waited until she was ready.

Tino agreed, and I guessed that I'd be the one to eventually tell him when Momma was ready for him to move on. I didn't expect that I was going to be the minor substitute, but that's what happened this summer. Of course, it didn't happen right away... if it had, maybe I would have chickened out. Daddy made me promise that I'd stay away from boys until he said it was okay, and I figured men were probably included in that, and that "stay away from" meant "don't do dirty stuff" since you can't exactly stay away from boys entirely, especially at school. But I'd promised, and Daddy was right, keeping promises was important even if you don't like keeping them.

Except I'd also promised Momma that I'd pass messages to Tino whenever she wanted, and that was a promise I really wanted to keep keeping. I had a selfish reason... it was summer! I wasn't supposed to go out without permission, and permission didn't come very often... after making her promise to Daddy, it was like Momma was grounded, because our town is so small that it was hard for her to go out without maybe running into Tino. I don't know if it was because she didn't want me going out when she couldn't, or if she was just starting to get overprotective, but if I wanted to do something other than sit around the house, mostly I got told no. And it wasn't one of those things where I could just ask Daddy, because he WAS overprotective and almost always said no too, afraid I was going to see boys even though I promised. But it didn't take long to figure out that, from Momma, the 'no' would turn into a 'yes' by reminding her I could check if Tino had a message for her on the way home from the swimming hole or riding my bike down to that store that has a few arcade games in the back. I mean, that wasn't the only reason I did it... I really did want to help Momma, she seemed so depressed. And it seemed romantic at the time, she still loved Tino but couldn't be with him.

I didn't blame her for loving him more than Daddy... Daddy could be hard to love sometimes. In fact, if she wasn't having sex with Tino anymore, their love seemed harmless and pure, even beautiful, like a teacher who stares at your legs all day in school but can't do any more. So that's why I made the promise, to get an excuse to go out when I wanted and also to keep that pure, beautiful love going and, thirdly, to listen to them describe what they wanted to do to each other and get a better idea how it all worked just in case next year my teacher ever wanted to give me more than looks and I felt like breaking a promise.

I hardly expected that pure innocent love would soon have me walking down the street carrying a load of cum in my mouth like a momma bird coming to feed her baby... only I guess I was the baby bird coming to feed Momma. It was funny, when I told her about how I felt she started calling me Baby Bird, and even Daddy started doing it too even though he didn't know why. Pretty soon it was my new nickname, spread to people outside my family even.

Of course, the dirty stuff didn't start with my baby bird act... and it sure as hell didn't end there... if it had, I would be writing this assignment for regular school instead of only wondering who's legs Mr. Perry was staring at this year while I write it for you. A short-distance cum carrier could go through school with a spotless reputation as long as nobody smelled her breath or checked her panties at the wrong time, but a pregnant twelve-year-old, that's serious stuff... but it didn't start with serious stuff, it was all baby steps.


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Anonymous 16/08/04(Thu)12:19 No. 24545 ID: 098f74

I am so down


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The Go-Between ctd AnonyMPC 16/08/04(Thu)15:47 No. 24546 ID: a609fb

The first of those steps was when, on the way home from playing some video games, Tino waved me down and told me to give Momma a kiss for him. He leaned over the fence and planted one on my forehead, told me to give Momma one just like that, and say it was from him. Well, I did, and she had one in return, on the side of his lip that I had to run out and give him while running back to the store for ice cream sandwiches. The next day, coming home from the creek's swimming hole wearing my old one-piece suit, Tino invited me up on his porch and gave me one on the lips, with tongue, and even though it was intended for Momma and not me, it was my first real experience kissing, and got me all hot and flustered, like butterflies in the stomach, but what was even weirder was giving that to my own Momma, sticking my tongue in her mouth, listening to her moan softly in response and wondering if I'd done that with Tino.

That lasted about a week, and let me tell you, a girl who's never been really kissed by a boy, or a girl, can get quite an education in kissing just being a go-between between two lovers. At least two lessons daily, with Tino teaching me exactly how he kisses Momma, and Mom teaching me exactly how to kiss back. In both cases, it involved a lot of tongue and heavy breathing afterwards. The biggest eye-opener was how much the kiss made me want to do more... not necessarily with them, I wasn't sure I wanted to get in the middle any more than I already was, but on the walk between Tino and Mom, or Momma and Tino, if I passed by a cute boy (sometimes even a girl) I wanted to just grab his shirt, pull him behind a building, and get some kissing of my own. Only I knew that if I did that, I'd "lose" the kiss I was delivering, and also I'd be breaking my promise to Daddy. Besides, most of the kids my age here are jerks and I wouldn't want to kiss them. They're especially mean to girls with freckle-faces. At least Tino always called my freckles pixie-kisses and never makes ginger jokes, so I didn't mind delivering kisses for him.

Soon I wasn't just delivering kisses. In fact, soon I wasn't even delivering kisses, not really, although sometimes Mom would throw in a "give him a kiss on his cock for me" when I went down the street, as often as not, it wasn't really given to pass on.

But it started with a message attached to a kiss. After Tino and I tongue-wrestled on his family room couch for about five minutes, I finally forced myself to break away before I crossed that line where I was kissing for me and not just as a go-between. I'd decided that line was three down-below clenches after I started to feel my panties getting wet, although each time we did it the line seemed to get pushed back a little more. A few days earlier, the line was "panties wet" and I swore to myself not to go past it. But the thing about promises to yourself is that you can also let yourself out of them, and I'd been doing that too often. I succeeded in staying in line this time, at the third down-below clench, instead of pushing it back again mostly because I had something I had to remember to say.

"Momma wanted me to tell you something," I said, gasping for breath.

"What's that?"

The moment after he spoke, his lips brushed against my neck, which I made a mental note of so I could pass it along. Then I got into the message. "Momma says to tell you she really misses your cum." I knew the word but still wasn't exactly clear on what 'cum' was when Momma told me, so the first time I repeated it for her, I said, "misses you coming over," but she made me repeat her exactly. "She misses the smell, the feel, and the taste, like a junkie misses heroin." This, she promised me, was just a romantic metaphor.

"Aw, that's sweet," Tino said. "Makes me feel bad, though, that I can't help her out. Unless... you think you could bring your Momma something?" I nodded. I'd already passed messages, kisses, and once a flower, so I didn't see why he even needed to ask. "Hold out your hand then."

I did, and that's how I went from being a girl who'd never even seen a real wiener in person to one who had a thick cock in her hand and watching it spew out. It had to be a cock because it certainly wasn't a wiener, a thin hot-dog looking thing like I'd pictured, or something more like a sausage for adults. This made even a sausage look small, so I could understand it needing its own word, and Momma says it's okay to use in homework because that's the real word. Just like 'fuck' and 'cum,' if that's what I'm talking about and not just a swear. So anyway, Tino just pulled down his shorts and slapped it in my hand and began rubbing it as I watched in surprise. I guess the size wasn't THAT much of a surprise, Mom had described it enough (although at first I thought she was exaggerating), and sometimes I'd seen or felt it through his shorts, but it's a whole different thing when it's naked in your hand, and it was a huge surprise that he could do that to a little girl. "Don't worry," he said as though I'd complained. "I'm just pulling out some cum for you to give your mother."

"Okay," I said, and waited. Sure took a lot of pulling and a lot of time which gave me time to become used to the sight of a big cock and learn some things about it I hadn't known, like how the head dripped like a runny nose, kind of like how I dripped after a long kiss with tongue. And I learned how warm it was, warmer even than his hands. And how the skin over most of it looked like it was stretched tight but actually slid around on the hard part like there was a layer of butter between them. And how a guy breathes funny and gets red as he works on pulling out some cum. And, in the end, I learned it worked a lot like a big water gun... you do a lot of pumping and then it shoots out all by itself. I never would have guessed that. The first burst just completely shot past my hand and onto my blouse, only the end of it landing on me, all slimey. Then he took my hand in his and made it into more of a cup, and aimed better and the next squirt went into my palm. And more came after. A lot more. By the end there was a runny pool of warm grey-white slime in my hand that smelled like my Momma's seat after the ride home from a massage session. "There you go, darling," Tino said, as he wiped his cock on my blouse, which would have been rude if it wasn't already messed up. "You bring that to your Momma with my compliments."

"Okay," I said. "What compliments do you want me to give her?"

He grinned, and said, "Tell her she's still the hottest piece of ass I've had and I miss having a mouth like hers on my cock."

I memorized the message, and left. He had to hold the door open for me because my hand was full. That was the longest walk home yet, not only did I usually have the usual anxiety I usually had now while leaving Tino's, but I also had to keep my hand steady so the cum didn't spill out. It's harder than you think... it was a good thing I didn't ride my bike that day or I'd have lost most of it on the handle!

Momma was waiting for me on the front porch, saw how I was holding my hand and asked what I had in there. I showed her, and a bright smile lit up her face and she held the door open for me and took me to the living room couch, where I usually gave her the kisses from Tino, or got kisses to give to Tino (sometimes I lost track on which we were, there was at least one Saturday where I just kept going back and forth between them because each of them insisted that the kiss was for express delivery... good thing Daddy likes to nap on Saturdays!). Then she took my hand and started licking it all over. Have you ever had someone lick your hand? It's weird and it tickles, but it's kind of nice, too. I giggled and tried to pull away, but not for real, just far enough to make Momma work for it. Pretty soon, my palm was wet. "Mmm, thank you baby, I missed this so much. But I have to ask you..." she looked at me, like she was afraid I was going to lie to her. "Did you taste any of it?" she asked.

"No!" I said.

I thought I saw her face fall, like she was disappointed and she said, "Because it's okay if you did, it's natural to be curious and it is delicious... you know he drinks pineapple juice just to make it sweeter. I just want to know if you did."

"No, gross, Momma, of course I didn't," I said.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Because I know how much Tino cums, and there just isn't as much as usual. Especially if he hasn't had me to drain his beautiful balls regularly. Again, I'm not mad, I'm happy to share it, but..."

"I didn't!" I insisted. Now it made sense why she was disappointed, she thought I was lying to her. "I guess he did spill some," I explained, and showed her the dark wet spot on my blouse. "And some might have come out on the way." Some of it was runny and could have slipped through the gaps in my fingers.

"Oh, okay. Well, next time you do it, try your best not to spill any, okay?" She ruffled my hair, and added, "Because that stuff is gold."

That's how I knew this wasn't going to be a one-time thing, but then she wanted to kiss again and I didn't think about it. I did think about how her kisses tasted different, stronger somehow. And she kept breaking away to catch breath and asking me to describe Tino's cock, what it looked, felt, and tasted like, so she could remember. I had to tell her I hadn't tasted it. "Oh... well, that's okay, you don't have to if you don't want to."

The next time I carried cum home to Momma, I did try a little taste for myself. I like it now but then, I didn't see what was so delicious about it, sure it was a little sweet, but it seemed too strong and the smell of it made me wrinkle my nose, and I decided I'd let Momma have it. She didn't ask if I'd tasted it, but she did complain there wasn't enough, and that she waited too long for me to come back, and that if I helped Tino he could cum faster.

Okay, maybe I was curious how that would work, so after a few times I asked if he wanted help and he showed me how to 'jack it off'. It was like holding an animal, a tame one, one that wouldn't hurt but you could feel it alive in your hands until finally got and angry and spit. The next time he showed me how kissing it made it even faster, but I had to be careful or it might go off in my face.

That happened a few times, actually, usually when I sucked on his balls, which was kind of neat, except for the hair, but then sometimes it would explode and before I could get my hand in position it would go off and hit me in the face. Once, he held my hair real tight and wouldn't let me pull away until my face was covered, but he said he was sorry after, he just got carried away. Those cum-faced walks home were the worst, it was stressful hoping people wouldn't see and sometimes it would drip into my mouth on the way home, and sometimes one of my eyes was stuck shut. And once I got home, it got even weirder, because lately Momma wanted his cum inside her, not her mouth but her pussy, she'd been having me rubbing my spermy hands all over her, like she was trying to get pregnant but she told me sperm couldn't survive for that long so it was safe.


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Anonymous 16/08/05(Fri)00:16 No. 24547 ID: ede926

yes!


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The Go-Between ctd AnonyMPC 16/08/05(Fri)04:42 No. 24548 ID: a609fb

I didn't mind if she did get pregnant... she told me she wanted to, but Daddy didn't want to knock her up again, or couldn't, I'm not sure which, and part of the reason she'd cheated with Tino was because she wanted another baby. I would have liked to have a little brother or sister too, and as long as she wasn't cheating by doing it, I didn't see anything wrong with it. So when I rubbed Tino's cum into her pussy, I sometimes pretended it was going to get her pregnant even though it was safe. But when it got in my face, sometimes she would lick me all over like a puppy, and sometimes Momma would ask me to get between her legs and have me rub off the cum in her slit. I guess I didn't mind that too much either, she was shaved and clean and smelled even better than Tino, it was just weird. I know girls my age who say they've never seen their mother's pussy, much less had it rubbed all over their face like a living towel. But the kisses afterwards seemed to be so much more passionate, and sometimes they weren't instructions to be delivered to Tino, they were just a thank you for helping Momma, so it was okay to enjoy them past any limits. So it was a little weird but I was really getting to enjoy helping her out any way she asked.

Of course, I knew helping her out could still get us into a lot of trouble, and one day Momma told me I couldn't carry cum on my face anymore because the Reverend saw me walking home like that and started asking her questions until she convinced him I'd just been eating sticky buns. Lucky he believed her this time because I didn't have a reputation as one of those girls, but if it kept happening, and got back to Daddy, we could all be in serious trouble.

That's how I started my baby bird act, and got really used to the taste of Tino's cum, and learned to really suck a cock. Not right away, at first I just licked and kissed like usual, and opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue while he squirted, then walked home with my cheeks puffed out and Tino's sperms swimming around my teeth (Momma showed me a website when I finally asked exactly what cum was and ever since then I often picture all the tiny tadpoles swimming around). Once I got home, sometimes Momma would lick the stuff out of my mouth, less like a kiss and more like a deep cleaning with her tongue, and sometimes she would ask if I would please kiss his cum into her pussy. I think I liked the second type more, it was like I was a baby bird kissing a baby brother into the Momma Bird.

The baby bird method worked pretty well, but not perfectly. Have you ever tried carrying stuff in your mouth for a long time? You just want to spit or swallow soon. I started taking my bike on these trips, but if I hit a bump sometimes I'd accidentally swallow the whole load. Sometimes I did it even walking, I couldn't hold it anymore and I had to swallow. And then of course there were the times that I met somebody I knew and I tried to answer in just nods or head shakes but eventually they'd ask me something specific and I had to swallow it all so I could answer back. Sometimes Tino's cock would even be all at the back of my throat when he started cumming and I couldn't help but swallow then. Whenever I lost a mouthful, I'd usually go right back for another load but there was never as much the second time. And sometimes I only swallowed some of the first load and managed to keep some in a puffed-out cheek to take home, but either way I had to watch Momma sulk about not getting her full delivery.

I think it was Tino who first suggested that I try carrying it in my panties. At first I didn't think that was a good idea at all, it meant he'd be able to look at my pussy, and my panties would get all messy, but then, my panties were already getting wet from all the kissing, and if the cum was in there, some would get on my pussy and Mom would want to lick that, too. By this time I knew how good it felt when something rubbed there because I'd been rubbing myself every night, and a tongue seemed even better than fingers or a toothbrush.

So I sucked Tino to get him ready and then when he was about halfway done I lifted my legs, pulled the underwear down (or up, I guess), and let him rub up against my crack until he was ready to burst, then I pulled the panties down and caught all his cum. It was a huge success, and walking home with a sticky mess between my legs felt pretty neat once I got used to it. Not nearly as neat as Momma licking me clean, though. That felt amazeballs when she cleaned me, like she was determined to hunt down every last tadpole. Even after I was clean, she kept on licking me until I had a big-O orgazim, which I'd had before alone but never with another person which was so much better. A few times we'd rub our pussies together, so she could get the cum in her pussy too, and I'd tell her all the things Tino said... really dirty things and it was fun being allowed to say them to Momma, once I got used to it. Tino also liked to talk about fucking me, and at first I held that back, but once when we were doing what Momma called scissoring, and our pussies were rubbing together and it felt good, it just slipped out. "Tino said he wants to stick his cock all the way inside of me, take my cherry and fill me with his cum." When I said this, I thought she was angry because her lips would curl up and I could see her teeth, and she'd rub her pussy even more like she needed help to get to her own big-O because she was jealous. But then she moaned louder and longer than ever. After we were done, we cuddled up and I promised her I wouldn't actually fuck him, I wasn't interested in Tino, I was just her go-between.

"Oh, no, sweetie," she said. "It's okay if you want to fuck him. In fact, I was going to ask you if you wouldn't mind, so the cum gets in deep and stays until I need it. I'm sick of sucking on your panties." She always did that after cleaning me out. "I keep getting lint in my teeth." That was funny, and she pulled me close while I laughed. "I'd rather get it directly from my sweet little girl. Besides, this way you could wear your new swimsuit." She'd gotten me one and threw my old one piece out because she thought all the cum I'd been carrying had ruined it. She took me shopping for a bunch of new panties too but those nobody but Tino had to see. The new bathing suit was still in my drawer, untouched except for a few try-ons in front of a mirror and the salesman. I don't think you've seen it yet. It's much more fashionable but it takes a brave girl to wear it. It was a tiny yellow two piece with just tiny triangle patches held over my nipples with strings, and the bottom was like a mini-thong that always had my pussy lips wrapped around it. It was obviously pretty useless as a cum-catcher, so I hadn't even tried. I wasn't as brave back then, and I'd had it for a week but still even hadn't gotten up the nerve to wear that even just to the swimming hole.

I wasn't sure whether I was more worried about Tino being allowed to sticking his cock inside of me, or wearing my new swimsuit in public. "Isn't that gonna get me pregnant?" Even if Tino had the same snip-snip Daddy might have had, I was afraid just wearing it to the swimming hole might do it to me, because the last time I was there, in my one piece, I watched the Murphy brothers and their older cousin pin down Lacey Hall and take turns fucking her. She asked the first one to pull out because she was definitely going to get pregnant since she started having periods, but he said that if she didn't want it she shouldn't have worn such a sexy swimsuit. I didn't actually see if they did cum inside her because before they got done I remembered I had to go deliver a kiss from Tino, but her family left town this summer and I'm pretty sure that was why. It was only a few days after hearing about that rape that Momma bought me my new one.

Momma hugged me closer to her sweaty body so her tit was in my face and I popped her nipple in my mouth and sucked. It was a reflex, but I knew Tino liked sucking on them so it was easy to let her think it was from him. "If he does cum inside you, I'll do my best to suck it all out, and you're pretty young, so I think you're safe." Lacey was only six months older than me. "But if you do, well, you're just carrying a baby for me from him. He can't give one to me himself, even though he wants to, the sperm doesn't survive that long, so just think of it as another kind of message."

Damn right it is, but it's a message that everyone can overhear once my belly starts getting big. But I couldn't resist, I'd been the go-between that summer and learned and felt so much that it was hard to quit. I'd delivered kisses, cum, and even big-Os.. I couldn't decide which I liked more, getting them to pass on, or seeing how much they enjoyed getting them from me.

I even started to think that I wasn't the messenger, I was the message between two sex-crazed lovers who couldn't be together. That's why Momma was always giving me sexy outfits to wear when I went out, because she wanted to make sure Tino knew it was okay to use me instead of her. People always talked about using people for sex... now, instead of using each other for sex, Momma and Tino both used me. It was so dirty and yet so romantic.


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The Go-Between, conclusion AnonyMPC 16/08/05(Fri)16:33 No. 24549 ID: a609fb

Well, of course, I did get pregnant. That's not going to be a surprise to you... I mean, if I hadn't, I would be writing my "How I spent my summer vacation" story in Mister Perry's class and not here. Sure came as a surprise to me though! I hadn't even had a period yet!

I'd been going to Tino pretty regularly by the time I found out, and gotten used to him getting all the way inside me. The first time hurt. Well, not at first, he took it slow and took a few minutes just working the head inside and I felt all stretched out already and like an idiot I said, "So this is fucking, huh?"

He laughed and said, "No, that's not fucking, this is fucking," And he held onto my shoulder and then pushed in deep and started thrusting in and out and that really stretched me out, stretched me so much it felt like I tore apart. I walked so bow-legged on the way home that that part of me was wide open and dripping, so I didn't have any cum left to feed Momma. And I didn't even take the whole thing! I almost decided I'd never go back, but Momma took care of me and gave me cuddles and ice cream and showed me how to stretch and promised that next time would be better, and after a week or two.... okay, it still hurt sometimes, but it was a good hurt! And Momma still loved sticking her tongue way up my pussy or even my butthole to get at any sperm she could (even though by the time I got home it was usually leaking right out anyway, she still dove deep and stayed a long time). I guess she missed some, but not for lack of trying! She probably would have licked my eggs clean if her tongue could reach that far.

Anyway, there I was having loads of fun. Then I started puking in the mornings. I thought I was just sick, thought I was gonna miss out on the last week of summer, except I was just sick sometimes and fine at others. Momma noticed my nipples were extra sensitive when I was passing on an orgasm, had me bike down to the store and get one of those tests, and sure enough, my pee turned it blue.

"So I guess I'm giving you a baby after all," I told Momma.

She bit her lip like she was upset, but she hugged me, and when she pulled away she was fighting back tears. I asked her why and she told me that she was just sad that Tino might never be part of his baby's life, because of the stupid promise Daddy made her make. I said I wished I could help, and she said that there was one thing that maybe we could do, make Daddy change his mind.

Well I'm sure I don't have to tell you how you change a Daddy's mind, but Momma did have to teach me. In a way, it was really just more of being a go-between, because Daddy wouldn't listen to Momma about Tino. Fantasizing out loud in front of him was fine, but if she tried to raise the subject of the promise directly he just shut down before she could get a word in edgewise. But if I approached him just the right way, maybe we could talk to him about it and make him see light.

We practiced a lot at home before Daddy got off work, and then I showed off my new swimsuit at home outside of my bedroom for the first time. Before I'd keep it on under the clothes and just changed when I went to the creek or to see Tino. This time, I really was showing off, strutting out my room like it was nothing, then laying on the floor ass-up, legs spread, in front of Daddy while he watched TV. Well, he certainly wasn't watching it too closely, not with me lying on my stomach with a string up my butt and my pussy gobbling up more. Then at dinner Momma just made hotdogs and, like she showed me, I said I wanted to cut down on carbs, so I took out the wiener out of the bun and sucked on it while Daddy watched me all wide-eyed. Then after dinner while Momma did the dishes, Daddy was on the couch again and I flopped over on his lap. I was still wearing my swimsuit all this time and I felt his hard lump up against my belly. It didn't show yet (okay maybe it was getting a little chubby) but I had a baby in there and the thought that Daddy's penis had just poked my baby in the face made me giggle. I guess he thought it was the hard-on that was making me laugh so he said sorry. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "Baby Bird, you haven't been fooling around with boys, have you?"

"Of course not, Daddy," I said. "I promised." And I kept that promise. Tino wasn't a boy, and the Murphy brothers... well, when they saw me try out my new swimsuit for actual swimming, they weren't fooling around either, they just plain force fucked me in practically the same spot they did Lacey, except they didn't have their cousin with them that day so I didn't get to find out what it was like to have all three holes filled at once. But I did learn what it was like to get pushed into the wet sand and how it feels to get choked or have my hair pulled while someone forces himself into one of my holes (it's actually not as unpleasant as it sounds! It's kinda another kind of good hurt!), and to have to wash cum out of your ass in the cold creek water (that was worse, but I had to do it... sure, Momma would have licked it out of me there too, thinking it was from Tino, but what if she noticed it didn't taste the same? Then I'd have some explaining to do!). But I wouldn't call any of that 'fooling around', and there was certainly nothing romantic about it. They kept calling me a little red-headed slut, and there was no kissing either time it happened. They said I'd regret it if I didn't come back the next day and I didn't want to take the chance that they were right. All the kisses I've had were kisses that I passed on from Tino, or Momma's long tonsil-tickling thank-you kisses, so I say I kept my promise. "What makes you think I would fool around with boys?"

"It's just you're dressing awfully funny for a girl your age."

"It's just my new swimsuit, Daddy. You don't like it?" I made sure to sound real sad at that.

"I didn't say that, Baby Bird, I like it a lot, but it's a little mature for a girl your age," he said.

"Momma chose it for me. She said if I gotta be stuck around the house, I should at least look sexy. You think I look sexy right?" I thought his dick was hard before! My baby's probably gonna need an eye patch when he's born, the way it jammed into me!

"You sure do, but you really shouldn't be looking sexy," he said.

"Why not? Momma told me you'd like it." She also told me that was why she turned to Tino in the first place, Daddy only liked younger girls, not both like Tino, and so Momma didn't excite him like he used to. They still loved each other but they weren't 'sexually compatible.' which I think means their parts don't fit right. "She also told me she realizes how selfish she's been and if you wanted, I could give you all the kisses that she says she should have given you. And do other stuff too." Daddy noticed Momma standing there, towel in her hand, and looked at her like he thought I might have been lying, but she nodded.

Well that got me pulled over his shoulder and rushed to his bedroom like he thought one of us might change their mind. Pretty soon I was delivering kisses and licks to Daddy's cock and he took off my swimsuit and stuck his fingers deep inside me like he was digging for a cherry that wasn't there.

I did it just like Momma told me, licking, kissing, and sucking, but not like Tino when I did it fast, I did it slow and take lots of pauses. He was smaller than Tino so I could easily have taken him all the way into my mouth but I never did. Momma's plan meant I couldn't let him pop, so whenever I thought he might, I settled back and let Daddy's fingers or tongue do magic on me or enjoyed a big-O.

I guess I pushed him too far which was just far enough, because finally he picked me up and lay me down on the edge of the bed, on my back, and began to spread my legs. I followed Momma's advice and waited just until he pressed the head up against my hole, and then cried, "Daddy, stop!"

He looked surprised and hurt. "What?"

"I promised Momma, I wouldn't let you fuck me without her permission. And a promise is a promise."

We had him there, so I was sent out to ask Momma for permission, then came back and asked him if she had permission to see Tino, and Daddy got red faced like he always did when he heard his name and said "No" and I told him that meant "No" too and pretty soon he was all grumpy and I left for the living room because who wants to hang around with a grumpy gus?

I thought the plan didn't work but a few minutes later he came out and asked me to go get Momma for a family meeting and we hashed it all out together. Daddy could fuck me all he wanted if he let Momma out of her promise not to see Tino or anyone else.

We saved the news that I was pregnant for a few days later after Daddy got used to fucking me. He was pretty good at that too... but not as good as Tino. Anyway, when he found out about the new addition to our family, he didn't like it, but he agreed with Momma's plan, to let Tino move in with us. Not right away, of course, but first they had a meeting, just to see if they could stand to be in the same room together.

Well, they could, at least with Momma trying to make nice and me being a go-between. They might not have liked each other, but they learned to share. A lot of sharing going on that night. We shared time, we shared a nice meal from McDonalds, we shared Momma's Netflix account to watch some of her favorite shows. They all shared me, too, of course, even Momma. Tino and Daddy could also share Momma, as long as their balls didn't touch. I guess she'd started to excite him again after all. Daddy still didn't seem all that happy with any of that sharing, but there was one thing that turned him around... Tino went out for a few minutes and brought back beer to share with all of us. I say "all of us", but I got left out of that sharing, except for a lot of "recycled beer", which I drank a lot of that night. That's what they called pee after drinking beer, and after Daddy did it the first time, they all wanted to give me some so they wouldn't have to get up from their comfy spot on the couch. That was a new one, I got to be the go-between between three people and the bathroom. It didn't taste very good, especially at first, but I got used to it. Swallowing it was a lot easier than carrying it in my mouth, anyway, since you didn't have to taste it as long, but of course that meant I was always running to the bathroom and missing out on the show. Mom was the worst, too, because it got all over my chin until I learned just where I should lock my lips. Now I can do it without spilling a drop.

By bedtime, with both me and Momma begging Daddy to let Tino stay the night, he sighed and said "Okay, but I'll be damned if a guy moves into my home to fuck my wife and daughter and doesn't at least pay a share of the bills." That was Momma's plan, but right then they were just talking about staying the whole night, not for good, we thought that would take a lot of these sharing nights, but since Daddy jumped ahead, that was what wound up happening. Tino was happy to sell his house, which gave him a nest egg he could live off even while paying rent to Daddy.

So it turns out I didn't get two rooms after all. Daddy wouldn't let Tino stay in Momma's bed, the "marital bed" that was one step too far, so he stays with me in mine. I kind of miss having my own room sometimes. It's going to be even more cramped once the baby comes. But overall I'm really really happy how things turned out. There's nothing like waking up with a hard cock sliding between your butt-cheeks and knowing it's yours whenever you want it (though lately he carries me into the shower to do it in the mornings because between the baby and Tino's cock, my bladder gets a good squeezing and if there's anything in there, it usually comes squirting out during a morning fuck!)

Anyway, now summer's over, but even though we all live together now, I still get called upon to be the message-passer, the go-between, all the time, even sometimes when we're both in the same room. Daddy and Tino sometimes have me go-between them when there's almost no space for me to fit. It's a little angry because they still are very different people and get into fights but they both like me and Momma so we're all learning to share. And whenever I'm between them, no matter how rough the message is, we all seem to get a big-O out of it and are smiling at the end. Sometimes wet and smelling like pee, if we don't remember to let me go first.

Daddy even invited Tino out fishing with him next summer, as long as I come of course, to keep the peace (I bet there'll be a lot more recycled beer! Dad never likes leaving the dock if he doesn't have to... he's afraid the fish'll choose just that time to bite). So we're not there yet but I think we're getting to be one big happy family.

Mostly though, since Daddy's still at work all day, and they took me out of regular school, I spend my time with Mom and Tino. Or I use to. I'm happy spending all day delivering big-Os between them and some of their friends, but Momma said that it starting to interfere with my homeschooling. So that's why she sent me to spend my days with you, Grandpa. Since you're retired and your sex drive has started to settle down a little, you can make sure I do all my homework before I get back to delivering messages.

That reminds me, though, Momma wanted me to pass on a message for you too. When you're done marking this, take your little blue pill and come see me in the bathroom!

The End
“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom


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Anonymous 16/08/13(Sat)07:47 No. 24577 ID: b6ef6f

As always, loved it. Are you going to post your old PP tributes here, or just heretofore unreleased ones?


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Anonymous 16/08/19(Fri)00:47 No. 24582 ID: 8255a3

Outstanding as ever, man.

Are there any other people that even do Phil Phantom type stories?


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AnonyMPC 18/02/03(Sat)04:07 No. 25328 ID: a609fb

Been a while, sorry. I wanted to get stories out earlier, but January's been a bit of a trashfire for me, emotionally speaking at least so I haven't gotten a lot done. Magic Marker 2's done its first few rounds of edits and I'll start posting it piecemeal in the next week or so, but in the meantime, here in this thread, another Phil Phantom story, "Gotta Support Your Team."


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Gotta Support Your Team - A Phil Phantom Tribute (M+f,ff, fg, best, prost, AnonyMPC 18/02/03(Sat)04:09 No. 25329 ID: a609fb

Gotta Support Your Team - A Phil Phantom Tribute (M+f,ff, fg, best, prost, extreme, more)

"We really need you to do us a favor. Carlos and his dog are waiting in the playground. Let's go there, let him fuck your tight little cunt and cum inside while we stream it all live. It'd really help out the team." Those were not the words Peyton was expecting to hear in broad daylight in a public park, said to her, a tiny natural blonde freshman who was still sometimes mistaken for a middle schooler by those who didn't know her, and well-known to be saving all of her virginities by those who did, and what's more, said out loud and without any shame or expectation of offense taken, by the captain of the high school football team.

Just before it happened, Little blonde-haired Peyton was on her way home from her cheerleading practice, still wearing with pride the glittery blue-and-white outfit that bore her school's name, and taking her usual route through the park when she noticed a group of four boys from her school lurking by the exit to her street.

'Boys' was the word she might have used if she was talking to one of her friends or her parents, in the event that, as she somehow already sensed was going to happen, they wound up making her late. "Oh, I stopped to talk to some boys from school," she might say, although with her parents she might have said "kids" just to leave it open that they might be girls and therefore nothing to worry about. But to Peyton's eyes, her heart, and a space between her thighs, these weren't boys, or kids, they were men, not just seniors but members of the varsity football team called the Predators, and who looked the part... muscle-bound hunks that dwarfed her or most other schoolgirls. Most of them were bigger than her father, mostly with darker skin, too, which would piss him off if she were alone with them almost as much as them being at least 3 years older than her, sometimes more. Some Predators were officially men, adults under the law, even, having reached their eighteenth birthday through having early birthdays or being held back for poor grades. The very prospect of walking into a group like that was intimidating, to most girls anyway.

But Peyton was a cheerleader, not yet head cheerleader but arguably (at least, enough that she did not think herself conceited for thinking it so) the star cheerleader on the freshman, or junior varsity team. Cheerleading required confidence. Besides, she knew all these guys, at least a little, even though they were seniors and Predators, that is, on the varsity team, they had school spirit in common and so the groups mingled. Some mingled in a way that was illegal, even with the Romeo and Juliet laws, and some even mingled in ways that were illegal no matter what age you were because animals were involved, but hey, the Predators got wild after a win. She'd never gotten wild with them, couldn't afford her reputation ruined or the retaliation of Mrs. Schumacher, the cheerleading coach, not if she wanted to pursue her cheerleading dreams all the way to college, but she'd had fun watching and knowing she was probably one step closer to head cheerleader when other girls did. Her near-perfect reputation even protected her, in her mind, because although lewd offers came with the territory of being a pretty girl, and got lewder and more frequent because she was a cheerleader, everyone at school knew where she stood and if anyone tried to push her past her boundaries there'd be hell to pay, and who'd want that when there were so many easier girls?

So, when they saw that she'd emerged from around a corner in a path, she had nothing to be intimidated by... these were peers. She shot them a dazzling smile, more dazzling than most because of the braces, just as a friendly smile in passing, then, noticed their change in posture, straightening, attentive to her, so prepared to give them a brief hello while going on her way. When she got close enough, the head quarterback, Dave, one of the few whites on the team, and one of those who was over eighteen, spoke first, "Hey, Peyton, just who we were looking for."

That was a little more than a passing hello she'd been expecting, but she liked the thought of them looking for her, and so she stopped. "What can I do for you boys?" she said sweetly, bracing herself for one of those come-ons, which she'd refuse of course but enjoy the thought of all night. She wasn't expecting one quite that lewd or forward, or, frankly, impersonal.

"We really need you to do us a favor. Carlos and his dog are waiting in the playground. Let's go there, let him fuck your tight little cunt and cum inside while we stream it all live. It'd really help out the team."

That got Peyton's head spinning. First, wondering whether the dog or Carlos was the one they were hoping would fuck her and cum inside. Each had their attractions and downsides at least in fantasy, not that the girl would admit to having fantasies like that... but somehow not being sure which was intended left her momentarily paralyzed to respond. What if she said "No way am I letting Carlos fuck me, I could get pregnant!" and they laughed because that implied she didn't have a problem fucking the dog, just Carlos? Or if she said, "Do you really expect me to be one of those girls that bends over and just lets a mutt hump me with his veiny dick?" and they meant Carlos but convinced themselves that she must have been fantasizing about bestiality in order to jump to that conclusion.

The moment of indecision was a fatal error, because in that moment Dave was able to take advantage of her stunned brain and direct her, with a firm hand on her back, to begin to take the side path towards the southwest playground, and her feet played along, taking steps in that direction, which seemed a lot like acceptance on her part. One of the other players also lifted the backpack she had slung off one shoulder, like he was being helpful, and because she instinctively shrugged it off as it was grabbed, it looked even more like she was voluntarily going along to the notorious playground to get publicly fucked by either a man or a dog.

The words finally did come, about a dozen steps along her new, alternative path, and she dug in her heels to stop her legs from taking the easy route that would lead to a hard outcome. "Whoa, there, you guys know me, you know I'm not one of those sluts who'd do something like that!" That, she figured covered both scenarios.

To their credit, the boys stopped pushing, although they did circle around her and Peyton couldn't help but think about how, if they just pushed down on her shoulders, she'd be on her knees and pretty much helpless if they got their cocks out and shoved them in her face and told her to suck, or do more than that. Other freshman girls had claimed to be forced by Predators, but until now she always assumed they were just lying for attention or to salvage their reputation... the guys on the team may have made offers before, but they always respected a no from Peyton, and the girls who claimed a forced attack were, after all, known for having easy-to-open legs. And they had enough girls who were willing that it was hard to imagine them resorting to forcing someone who wasn't. The football team might have been called the Predators, but she didn't think they actually were.

The two hands on her shoulders, from two different guys, made her start to rethink that. Sure, they remained light and with no pressure on her legs, but those legs were starting to get trembly without any help and she began to wonder what would happen if she fell to her knees on her own, would they just assume she was into it? Maybe that was how sluts got made, and head cheerleader dreams got dashed.

"We know you're not a slut," said Jamal, the dark hunk with his hand on her left shoulder. "But it would really help us out if you could become one. You gotta support the team."

"Yeah, be a team player," said the Hector, the guy on her right, the one who held her backpack. He was the youngest of the group, spikey black hair and a goatee that made his baby-face look a little less babyish, but he still had a boyish grin.

"You're a cheerleader, you got certain responsibilities." This was Sammy, behind her, also black, though a lighter shade than Jamal. He was pressing something hard that Peyton had to assume was a dick into her skirt and butt. She hoped it hadn't come out of his pants, like it sometimes did on the bus, because Mrs. Schumacher, the cheerleading coach was not kind to girls who got sexual fluids on the uniforms and that alone could ruin her head position dreams for a few months at least.

Dave, in front of her, took her chin in his hand and prevented her from looking back to see, then said in a cajoling voice, "It's just a dog cock." At least that answered that question. "It's nothing to be afraid of, it's totally safe. It can't get you pregnant or anything. And lots of girls love it, especially when the knot swells up."

"So find one of the girls that already loves it. I'm not that kind of girl. I'm still a virgin. Everywhere."

"So nobody's saying you gotta fuck us," Sammy said, pushing up against her adding weight to his words when he added, "I mean, we'd love to, but that's not the goal here. And everyone knows dogs don't count for virginity." Peyton's eyes widened, wondering if that was true. She'd certainly never heard that theory before, but then most of the girls who fucked dogs were already sluts, so it didn't really matter. She could see the argument, sort of, there was no chance for love or pregnancy so maybe dogs were just like a living sextoy. That opened up possibilities... not for doing it live on somebody's phone, of course, but maybe private experiments. She just needed to find a way to borrow a dog.

"Besides, it has to be you," Dave insisted, getting out of her way and sliding to her side, making Hector slide back beside Sammy. "Nobody else will do."

"Hey, you're a poet, and you don't know it!" Jamal said, and laughed.

Ignoring him, Dave went on, "Just come with us to the playground, hear us out."


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Gotta Support Your Team, continued AnonyMPC 18/02/03(Sat)04:53 No. 25330 ID: a609fb

"Oh, sure," Peyton said sarcastically, knowing of that playground's reputation. Even if the Predators normally played fair, they might make an exception in the southwest playground. "And once I get there you guys hold me down and force me to do what you want." Yet, even as she said this, she took steps forward, towards the playground where this anticipated dog rape might occur, instead of away. It was like she could feel the hopes of the group that she'd come along, so she did, at least for a few more steps. It must be that peer pressure she'd always been warned about but had never had trouble resisting before.

"Hey now," Jamal said, and when she looked up at him, suddenly the world turned upside down. Actually, she turned upside down. In one quick motion Dave had picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, legs dangling behind him. Jamal's hand clapped over her mouth before she could even think to scream. It was all done so smoothly, with perfect coordination on both of them, that it was like a well-rehearsed football play, and maybe it was, in addition to the hook/hitch, end-around, and off-tackles they went over thousands of times during practice, the football players also worked the "abduct and rape a cheerleader" play in their free time. Maybe Predators WASN'T just a name.

Well, this is it, she thought. I'm going to get taken to the park and forced to fuck a dog. Guess that's not my fault. I just hope it's as good as advertised.

Seconds later, she felt hands running up her dangling legs, pushing up the skirt part of her cheer uniform, and she began to think that maybe they wouldn't wait to get to the playground, they'd start the rape right here with a four-on-one gang-rape to prepare her holes. As a plan, she had to respect that, after all, she'd seen both Sammy's and Jamal's dicks on the bus, hard from a distance (and Jamal's close enough to smell freshman asshole on it on his way to the bus bathroom after he was no longer hard but still very intimidating). After those monsters forcibly stretched out her pussy lips she didn't think that she'd have much trouble with a dog cock. She yelled into Jamal's hand, because she knew it wouldn't make any difference, and they probably expected a little fight. They might respect her more after the rape for that.

The junior varsity cheer uniforms (at least, the ones worn in performance, and in training by the girls who weren't receiving punishment for having messed theirs up) had a skirt that was both longer and tighter than their varsity counterparts, for modesty's sake, and so it took some effort to push it up over her butt, but once the hands behind her did, modesty went out the window, and an electric shock seemed to go through her as a finger made contact with her slit... or, actually, with the blue cheerleading spanx just covering her pussy, but the difference didn't amount to much in feel, they were thin and it was a firm intrusion that made her muffled shouting turn into something more like a whiny moan.

As quickly as it started, it stopped, the finger disappeared, the hand came off her mouth (she didn't think to yell, and wasn't sure if she remained silent from surprise or disappointment), and then she was gently dropped back to her feet as though nothing had happened, although her uniform still was held up over her butt and required a bit of cautious smoothing to make herself modest again. "That was just to show you that we could easily rape you if that's what we were going to do," Dave said, in a half-crouch so he could look at her at eye level.

"And don't think we haven't thought about it," Sam pointed out.

"Sure," Dave agreed. "And if we were just thinking with our dicks here, we probably would, and send you home a cum-covered mess with gaping holes." Dave had a habit of putting images into Peyton's head that were both frightening and appealing, and the one of walking home bowlegged and naked, unable to hide the cum--or the places it had gone--from her parents locked itself in her head for later reconsideration. "But this isn't about us, we're here on a matter of school spirit, and you're an athlete just like us, so we're just going to ask you to come hear us out, and decide what you want to do from there." She took a moment to be impressed and appreciative that he respected cheerleaders enough to refer to them as athletes... some guys didn't. Dave must have thought she looked skeptical, though, because he added, "Promise. This just won't work if you're not willing, 100%. Ideally, we want to see your cunt visibly drooling before the dog cock penetrates it. We want... no, we need you to be a smiling, happy bitch while that mutt humps your brains out."

"Maybe say something," Sam suggested. "Like, 'I love being a doggy slut,' or maybe 'Fill me with your animal sperm.'"

"'I hope he fucks my ass next,'" Jamal suggested.

"Out of luck Jamal, Carlos told me his dog ain't gay!" Sam said, but it broke off into a laugh and everyone knew it was just a joke, though Jamal playfully punched Sam, and that broke some of the tension so even Peyton laughed.

"Ooh, ooh, I've got one!" Hector said, but before he could get it out, Dave waved a hand dismissively.

"Don't coach her guys, it should be whatever comes natural. If she decides to do it. Which she hasn't yet. And I wouldn't expect her to, until we've had a good chance to explain. She's a respectable girl after all." To Peyton, he said, softly, "So, what do you say, come to that playground with us, hear our pitch, maybe take a look at the dog cock, get over any fear you might have of it."

"I'm not afraid of dog cock," she said, then blushed bright red at how that sounded. "I just mean, it's disgusting but not scary. I mean, you've been asking very politely, so I'll come with you and let you try and explain why, but I'm telling you right now, I'm on track to be head cheerleader and the only way I'm letting a dog cock anywhere inside me is if you force me." Or if you somehow come up with a really, really good reason, she added mentally. She didn't say it out loud because she didn't want them to think she was an easy sell, they had to think she would only settle for the absolute best reason they had. Right at that moment, she couldn't even imagine what a good reason for a virgin girl to risk the reputation damage that would certainly come if she let a dog cum inside her on video, but there had to be one, otherwise they were just wasting everyone's time. It also occurred to her, belatedly, that just walking cheerfully to that playground with four guys could hurt her reputation almost as bad as actually doing something, which could only work in their favor, since without her reputation she didn't think she had any reason not to devote herself to the mindless pleasures of sex as she observed so many other girls doing. If everyone thought she was a hedonistic slut, why not get the benefits, after all, and that rumor might get started just by their destination.

The southwest playground was at least officially for kids, but as long as Peyton had lived it wasn't used by them, aside from the occasional daring and unsupervised kids who went without permission, or carefully orchestrated trips with parents, and either might or might not end with a ruined childhood depending on how lucky you were.

The problem was twofold, the second a consequence of the first. The playground was situated in a corner of the park dense with trees. It wasn't a forest by any means, but the trees that were there were large and thick with branches and perfectly positioned such that it was difficult to see anything going on inside the playground from the outside, while the reverse was easy. If you were doing something you shouldn't and you didn't want to be caught, you could post a lookout who'd see someone coming from a mile away, but if you were going there, you had to walk up the winding path to see if the swings and slide and plastic fort was bustling with kids, or if it was being used by teens as a spot to drink, do drugs, make out or fuck, or even if it was empty except for maybe a rapist lurking there waiting for a lonely victim. Even from the nearby apartments, the leaves made it impossible to see trouble either lurking or actually going on, and by-laws prevented anybody from cutting them down. All of that meant that few parents were willing to let their kids play there, especially when there was another, smaller but much more visible playground at the northeast corner of the park, which meant that the southwest corner, when it wasn't completely empty, was much more often being used as a fuck-spot and rapist perch. The fact that it was being avoided made it even more secluded and good for bad intentions, a vicious cycle that would certainly get tongues wagging about her being seen walking there. Maybe it would have been better to have been carried over the shoulder after all.

It wasn't unheard of to go there for innocent reasons, of course... it was just rare and risky. Peyton could count on one hand the number of times she'd been there... maybe three hands if you counted the occasional quick drive-by using the paths through it as a mildly-thrilling shortcut on a bike ride through the park. But only counting deliberate trips to the playground area, she remembered five. Twice were on group dares of one sort or another while Peyton and her friends were tweens, and both of those were busts, nothing unusual happening at all except a teen couple who quickly zipped up and moved away when they spotted kids approaching, and the other time the place was completely empty. They played on the swings just to say they had and weren't scared, and then went somewhere else because they really were scared somebody bad might show up. The danger was real... every so often a girl or woman would be found tied to something there after a night of rape, and those stories got around.

The other three times Peyton visited the park were years before that, before she even knew the place really was dangerous and that wasn't just another of the thousand things parents worried over. Those three times happened when Peyton was eight or nine, she'd gone under the supervision of her mother, who let Peyton play with her little sister for an hour while Mom cheated on her husband with whoever she found. It was only the second time that she started to figure out that was what was happening, when she left her little sister on the swing and circled around the playground equipment to the bench her mother waited at, only to find her still waiting there... face down on the bench, skirt up, legs dangling over the edge, body slamming into and being slammed into from behind by some man in a way that resembled the movies Daddy sometimes left open on his tablet. The guy, who she'd never seen before, smiled when he saw little Peyton, pulled back and revealed a glistening penis. He stroked up and down the length a few times, like he was displaying it just for her to see, then aimed it at back at her mother's rear and slammed it while Peyton watched. The memory of her mom biting her lip and moaning was particularly vivid, as the little girl got a good look with a mother who didn't open her eyes. She got a good enough look to see that it was definitely sex, but she didn't say anything because she didn't know if it was cheating or rape, and Mom hadn't seen her so she didn't say anything.

The next time at the park, their last time, it was two different men and Mom seemed like she didn't even try to hide it, the only way she kept her little sister from seeing her naked Mom sucking off a black guy while getting fucked by a white guy was by making sure they stayed on the see-saw with Hannah facing away, but Peyton saw, every time the seesaw went up, she saw her mom acting like a whore, or porn star, with a guy that wasn't Dad, and stayed watching even when her sister whined about being sick of the see-saw and wanting to go on the monkey-bars. But those would have given a clear view of what was going on, so she forced her sister to stay and every time she went up, one of the men, or Mom herself, began to wave at her. Even at that young age she was smart enough to realize that you don't wave while getting raped, and that probably meant that cheating's what Mom was doing the first time, too. That first visit to the park, Peyton didn't see any actual sex, she just noticed her mom was out of sight, called her name, and a few seconds later, just Mom's face peeked out from behind a tree, red and seemingly out of breath. She didn't think anything of it at the time, nor when it was finally time to go home, and Mom introduced them to the man, her new friend, who was also behind the tree with his dog, but now it made sense, and just like two plus two made four, one and one and one probably made three, even if you couldn't be sure of one of the ones. And three times makes a pattern and that pattern added up to her mom being a slut who was getting more and more bold. Peyton didn't want any part of that, so from then on she refused to go to that playground with her mom, or anyone else except when dared or just passing through.

Later, of course, she came to forgive her mother, realize that if she needed to cheat so bad that she'd risk her daughters safety taking them to a dangerous part of the park to do it then obviously it was something like a medical need, but back then she didn't know why the park was off-limits, how dangerous it was... she just thought her mother was a cheating whore and refused to give her an excuse to sneak out, or let her sister find out like she did.

Today, though, if Peyton's mom was to stop by the park, she'd probably think her dreams had come true and she was going to get in an ultimate gangbang or something, because it seemed like half the football team was there, enough that she could see a few of them from outside, just standing guard, keeping anyone who wasn't supposed to be at the southwest playground from coming in, and once she got past the guards, because she apparently was supposed to be there, she saw that there were even more Predators inside.

If it was an ultimate gangbang, it wasn't for Peyton, and it didn't seem to be for Peyton's mom either, who was nowhere in sight. But there were other women, a few, mostly teens but a few notably younger or older, all of them way outnumbered by the football team but definitely getting their attention with some kind of sexual display or act or another, from the sophomore girl masturbating at the top of the slide to the skirt-wearing pigtailed preteen riding on the lap of Brock Wilson who had his pants around his ankle while both of them rode the swing, face to face.

And there, standing in the sandpit, was Carlos, beside his dog, held on a leash as the park by-laws demanded (bestiality was not in those by-laws at all, but that was an oversight). He gave Peyton a big wave. Carlos, that is, his dog just looked up and wagged his tail like any other friendly dog seeing somebody new, as though he didn't realize they were trying to talk this one into being his human bitch.


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Gotta Support Your Team, continued AnonyMPC 18/02/03(Sat)19:17 No. 25331 ID: a609fb

They didn't go right for the dog, though, like she expected. Instead, Dave led her to the skeletal frame of a geodesic dome off to the side, and motioned for her to sit on one of the triangles, and he took the one next to her. He was large enough that he wasn't in danger of falling back into the dome, but she was, and had to brace herself. The other guys who walked with her there stood around nearby.

"You don't mind if I masturbate while I talk, do you?" Her eyes widened at the weird combination of boldness and respect. What a question to ask a girl you were trying to get to do something perverted for you. "Not for you, mind you." Peyton deflated, and followed his gaze towards the big-breasted woman riding a black receiver, her tits bouncing up and down and her face in an expression of ecstasy, then back to Dave. "It's just you gotta admit it's hot watching a married churchgoing soccer mom slut taking it raw from her son's former bullies..."

"Oh, is that Tim Pokorny's mom?" She craned her neck to look back in that direction again, but the woman's face was now obscured as another Predator had stepped over her and shoved his dick in her face, all she could see was his butt-cheeks clenching and his balls. It was a nice butt though. Nice balls, too.

"You've heard, then?"

"Just the rumor. That you used to beat him up and you made him ask his mom to be a team slut to get it to stop."

"No rumor, but don't feel bad for Tim, he had it coming, he used to use the n-word, and we don't support racists at our school. Luckily, his mom ain't racist at all, we have parties at her place when the old man isn't home, and every school day she gives a couple guys from the football team a ride home afterwards, doesn't care about color at all, and Tim's either gotta sit in the front seat while his mom makes a stop and spends an hour or so in the back promoting racial harmony, or walk home, which takes about an hour anyway."

"What does he choose?"

"He usually watches, even wipes her clean afterwards. Doesn't say shit about it anymore, which is good, cause if he got on his mom's case after all this, we might have gone through with Plan B."

"Plan B?"

"That's the idea we had where, after we got her hooked on young multiracial cocks, we told his mom that nobody on the team was going to fuck her anymore unless she asks us to start beating up her son again. But we're cool with Tim now... he's stopped using the n-word, except when a black guy tells him to...some of the guys get a kick out of making him ask his mom to ride that n-word cock, you know? And most importantly, he's never getting in the way of that pussy. So since he's being a good son, we decided against Plan B."

Peyton's mouth opened in a wide oval as she heard what Plan B was, and stayed that way while she watched Mrs. Pokorny's mouth doing the same around a cock now that the bodies had repositioned. When Peyton finally closed hers, she wondered aloud, "Do you really think she'd do that? Ask you to beat him up? She's his mother." It was wicked but somehow hot, too.

"Yeah, but if the choice is she asks us and we do it and keep fucking her, or she doesn't ask us and we stop fucking her and start beating him up anyway... easy decision to make, right?" That made a certain amount of sense to Peyton, but only if she really liked being treated like a piece of fuckmeat. As if reading her mind, he said, "Believe me, she loves what her life's turned into. She's fucked Carlos' dog too, by the way, and it was her idea."

"So why don't you get her to do it now for whatever you need to do? Why do you need me for?"

"For a number of reasons. I'll get to that. Besides, dog cum's acidic and a natural contraceptive, and we're breeding Janice--Mrs. Pokorny--today, so no dog cum for her until she passes a pregnancy test."

"You're actually trying to get her pregnant?" She'd thought he was just turned on by the risk, like they said in health class, contraceptives were never 100%... though she filed away the information about dog cum which they never brought up. She didn't plan to be a virgin forever, after all, just to college at least. "Isn't that a little extreme? What if the baby's not white? Won't her husband like, go insane?"

"That's kinda the point... payback. We might be cool with Tim, but Mr. Pokorny's the one who taught him and we finally convinced Janice to stop her pills a few weeks ago and humiliate him with a biracial baby. Obviously that leaves me out... well, actually, I can't join in because my job's getting you on board for the livestreamed dog fuck... but it's still a pretty hot thought, and impregnation's one of my big kinks, so I would like to get a stroke going and maybe take some of the pressure off with a good cum..." She'd forgotten this conversation started with him asking her permission to masturbate. "But only if you don't mind. I wouldn't want to offend you and screw up my chances here by just whipping out my cock and going at it without asking, it'd be disrespectful."

It was strange, him being so polite while asking such lewd things, it made her want to agree to almost anything just because he was being so reasonable... and this, well, there were other reasons too. She'd seen cocks before, usually from a short distance, but never his cock, and he was a captain of the team with a great reputation. If he'd asked her if she wanted to see his cock she'd have to say no, but since he just asked if she minded, she could be cool about it and let him do what he needed. "No, be my guest, just make sure you don't get any on me." Something made her add, "Or at least my uniform."

He grinned, leaned back, and unzipped. "Don't worry, I'll be careful, I know how your coach gets."

Peyton watched as he pulled his meat out, looking as it did like some kind of floppy sausage with balls attached, then whipped it casually back and forth, and with each flick, it seemed to get less floppy and bigger. It must have been at least nine inches, and a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, with a head that glistened like it was covered with some kind of delicious icing glaze. The sight was now more fascinating than Tim's mom possibly getting pregnant, and part of her wished she could pull her skirt up and her spanx aside and start masturbating too. Bad idea, she knew, both because it would tarnish her reputation and make her more likely to agree to this insane proposition. Instead, she kept up her side of the conversation to still seem cool, though her eyes were now locked on the rod and the fist slowly pumping it up and down, although she did spare a glance at the other guys to see if they were doing likewise. They weren't, so she said, "Then you should know why I can't do what you ask. Mrs. Schumacher goes crazy when you even get the uniform dirty, if I bring shame upon the cheer team by having sex with a dog on camera, I'll never get to be head cheerleader... hell, I'd probably never get to wear the regular uniform again."

"You'd be surprised. Your coach is cooler than you think, you just have to know how to handle her." Peyton had a hard time believing that. Woe be to anyone who said it in earshot, but all the girls agreed privately... Schumacher was a nazi with the uniform inspections. She regularly checked over every inch for stains that might be sexual or even just food-related but hard to remove. Even the spanx, if there was a suspicious wet spot she'd do what she called the 'nose test' to smell if it was just natural vaginal fluids or cum, getting a deep whiff from a long nose that pressed more firmly into the thin fabric than some of the inexperienced masturbators had gone, so deep that it pried labia beneath it apart. When she wasn't sure enough, she sometimes took a few licks as well.

And if you failed, had messed up your uniform or were judged to have harmed the reputation of the junior varsity cheer team, you had to remove the whole uniform right there in front of everyone, because you were temporarily but immediately off the team, at least the regular team who got to perform at games, and banished to second string practices. There, you could eventually earn your place back on the main squad with good behavior, but had to do it in the skimpy backup uniform, the all white ones which were so cheap that they tended to become see-through with sweat and had skirts that were short enough that you were often flashing camel toe, sometimes transparent camel-toe after a long practice. Those practices were often held in odd hours or locations, too, like sharing a gym with middle schoolers in detention, a bunch of rowdy mostly boys cheering whenever anyone bent down, or just as the adult English language night classes were letting out, drawing a crowd and a lot of lewd comments in a variety of languages.

Her former best friend Laney got exiled there a month ago after the Coach gave her a nose test and after a few licks of confirmation revealed to the rest of the squad that Laney came to practice dripping semen. At the time, through tears of humiliation as she stripped naked in front of everybody to hand over the uniform she'd been banished from, Laney swore she hadn't done anything with any guy.... Peyton hadn't believed her--the coach had pointed out and demonstrated the lack of a hymen to the whole squad, after all--and their friendship hadn't been the same since... nor had Laney who had worn the uniform to school and didn't have a backup outfit, left to either call home and explain why she needed a ride or find her own way wearing only bra and panties and choosing the latter. Peyton wanted more than anything to avoid that fate, which is why she kept her virginities safe and always brought a change of clothes with her. Dave offered an intriguing other option. "We'll teach you, if you play bitch for us, and believe me, you'll never have to leave the first string team, hell, you might make head cheerleader even if your cheer uniform is always so covered in cum it glistens because you just took a pre-game bukkake from all the Predators."

"Which would be a great way raise team spirit by the way," Jamal added. "I mean, your cheers are nice, but that would motivate me more."

Peyton smirked. "I hope that wasn't your pitch, because..." She didn't finish, but the truth was, mostly because she didn't believe it. Mrs. Schumacher was too much of a hardass to be won over by any simple trick. She never played favorites as far as Peyton could tell, though sometimes she did the opposite, take a dislike to one girl or another and hound them until finally she found something wrong to punish them for. But she kept reminding even the current head cheerleader Cindy that she could be replaced at any moment. If there was a trick that would let Peyton claim that spot no matter what she did, then Cindy would be the one who'd already used it, and wouldn't be so worried about failing inspection that she wouldn't even be alone with her boyfriend within three days of a performance.

"No, you're a good girl, I don't think you'd fuck a dog just because you thought you'd get something out of it. I think you're going to fuck a dog because the school needs you to fuck a dog. Well, the athletics department needs you to, but that's the heart of the school."

"I thought we were the libido of the school," Sammy joked.

"The libido's not a body part," Jamal said. "We'd have to be, like, the balls of the school."

"The school's not a dude. I came inside too many times for the school to be a dude."

Jamal considered. "So the pussy of the school then?"

"That's Tim."

Jamal and Sammy both laughed at Hector's joke, and even Peyton joined in, but Dave seemed annoyed. "Guys!" he said. "Would you go join in on Mrs. Pokorny or something and give us a second? I've got a lot riding on this, and I don't need you guys screwing it up. If I fuck it up, you'll get your chance to convince her."

"Sorry..."

As they wandered off, Peyton heard them talking about who the 'taint' of the school was, and when she couldn't hear the options they decided, she looked back up to Dave, or at least his cock, which he'd gone back to lightly stroking. It didn't seem like he was trying very hard to cum, just keeping it hard, and maybe just using the whole thing as an excuse to let her look, as though that sight itself might help convince her. She had to admit, it was hard to look away.


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Gotta Support Your Team, continued AnonyMPC 18/02/03(Sat)20:37 No. 25332 ID: a609fb

"Sorry, where are my manners?" Dave said, suddenly seeming to notice Peyton's gaze. "If you want to masturbate too, you're more than welcome."

Peyton blushed and directed her gaze down to the ground. "Ummm, no thank you."

"You sure? It might help. I promise I won't look, at least if you don't want me to. Some girls are shy about rubbing their cunts."

"You're not," she said, and looked back up at him.

"Shy about rubbing cunts? Hell no. I'll rub yours if you want..." As she opened her mouth to answer, he said, "I know what you meant. But if you ask me, there's no sense of being shy. You start worrying too much about how you look, you're never going to go for it, on the field, or in life. I'm sure the same applies to cheer. The skirts you guys wear might not be too short, at least on the performing team, but if you move on to varsity cheerleading you're going to have to make jumps without worrying about the crowd looking up your skirt, hoping for a camel toe, right? That's what most of them are there for, and the best cheerleaders are the ones who lose their shame about it quick and play to the crowd or even arrange for their spanx to 'accidentally' slip over a lip or something. Now, it might seem like a big a jump to fucking a dog in front of a crowd, but once you make that jump, you'll be the boldest cheerleader. And the further you go in cheerleading the more you'll find being sexually open-minded is a benefit, not a downside. That's not my pitch either, by the way, that's just a side benefit. The cunt-rubbing offer is open, though."

All through Dave's rambling speech, Peyton eyes were on the steady rhythmic pumping of his hand on cock, almost hypnotic in its power, especially once beads of wetness started dripping out of the head, but he didn't seem to be cumming. She suddenly worried about what people would think if she was staring too hard at the cock for too long, and then another part of her pointed out that she was proving his point about being too concerned about what people thought, that maybe she should fuck a dog and get over that worry. The responsible, respectable part of her was still stronger, the part that knew that would not help her reach her dreams, but rather the opposite. So, she forced her eyes upwards, to Dave's face, and asked the first thing that came to mind, something he'd said when telling off his friends, something that stuck with her. "What do you mean you've got a lot riding on this?"

"Well, as I said, the team needs..."

"No, but you said they could try to convince me if you fail, so it must be something else." She suddenly got it. "You made a bet on this. You bet on whether you could convince me to do this." Predators were always making bets, often about whether they could deflower some virgin. This was merely a new wrinkle.

Dave grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, sort of. See, when we discussed this in the locker room, we were split on how to approach it... you know, there's a lot of ways to get a girl to fuck a dog, including outright forcing her. With you, nobody wanted to do that... okay, that's a lie, a few wanted to, but it wasn't ideal for our ultimate goals. But there's dirty tricks, blackmail, bribery, reverse psychology, or a long seduction nudging you into dirtier and dirtier things a step at a time while you have no idea what we're really after. And I may be the captain of the team, but that's just for the game, off the field, we try and decide our major issues as a group. But still, I kind of stepped up and said that I could talk you into it, straight up, no tricks. I had it all worked out in my head when I said it... I mean, I'm probably totally screwing it up now..."

"No, you're doing fine..." she said, and then hurriedly added, "I mean, I'm here listening at least, right?"

"Yup, and that's something all right. Lot of the guys didn't think you'd even hear us out."

"So what do you get if you win?"

"I probably really am going to fuck up my chances up by telling you, but... well, you know how the football team works, right, with girlfriends?"

"'It's not cheating if it's with a Predator,'" she repeated the rumors she'd heard from other girls who were more promiscuous, some who had 'boyfriends' on the team. Supposedly it had been the rule forever, since before the team had changed its name from the Eagles years ago, after learning that Eagles were the most common high school team name in America. Back in the day, they had to be called the Screaming Eagles just to distinguish them from another school's Eagles that they played against regularly, got sick of the confusion and jokes from the other team about screaming like girls when they get spanked, and voted on a new team name, with Predators winning the vote by a significant margin, but the name change didn't change much about how they conducted themselves on or off the field.

The way it worked off the field was, in addition to a boyfriend who was practically school royalty, a girl dating a Predator got a limited right to sample other cocks without consequences, or mostly without consequences, since Predators preferred it raw and pregnancy was usually on the table if a girl wasn't taking responsibility on her own. They'd supposedly respect her wishes about fooling around, but not her boyfriend's, and even if she'd given a polite no a few times they'd still never cease in their attempts at a hard seduction either for individual acts of infidelity or by promoting all the benefits of becoming sort of a whole-team girlfriend, emotionally loyal to one but sexually serving the whole team equally, what they used to call a "Screaming Eagle Bitch" before the name change, now sometimes "Double-P Girl," with the double P's standing for "Premium Prey" or "Predator Pussy" or a dozen other things depending on who you asked. One Double-P Girl Peyton talked to on the bus to a game insisted it stood for "Phil Phantom," the girls named after a beloved but now deceased player from the Screaming Eagle Days who started the tradition, who she swore was also her illegitimate grandfather.

Not every girlfriend became a full Double-P Girl, but the potential held for all of them, and most played around with a few guys on the team other than their official boyfriends... because that was the real rule, that if a Predator's girlfriend fucked around, as long as it was within the team, her boyfriend wasn't allowed to get mad... of course, boyfriends sometimes did, but everyone had to pretend they didn't, or risk being ostracized from the team. If the guy gave either his girlfriend or whichever Predator fucked her shit over it, he'd find himself not invited to team events, or his girl quickly dating another team member and every Double-P Girl now willing to fuck every Predator but the whiny bitch. Being a team-player was the rule. If a Predator walked in on his girl riding their best friend's cock, he was expected to high five, kiss the girl on the cheek hello, offer them a drink, join in on a free hole, or generally act like it wasn't an act of cheating but, at worst, an inconvenience or a 'gotcha.' A guy's buddies showing up when he's trying to make a good impression on his date's family, two or three other Predators asking to talk to the girl for "just a minute" and leaving him alone with her parents while they have loud sex behind at most one closed door, that was a good 'gotcha.' So was knocking up a buddy's previously loyal girlfriend with a baby that looked nothing like him because they tricked her into riding on the team bus he wasn't on and then talked her into becoming a full-fledged Double-P Girl with a gangbang all the way home. All in fun when it was all in the team.

It went beyond the team, too, at least sort of. The Predators didn't respect anyone's girlfriends, really... they'd try to fuck whoever they found hot, and so plenty of girls who were dating guys in the chess club or band or just ordinary students developed the attitude of "it's not cheating with a Predator" and would fuck around, quietly or openly, without shame, or cover for each other, as long as it was with a member of the football team. Having your brainy girlfriend tutor a football player was a nightmare scenario for anyone not on the team because you always had to wonder if he was getting head as well as her brain. Then you were faced with a choice, act trusting, turn a blind eye to any late nights, mussed hair or suspicious stains, which might truly be innocent at first, and make her think it was okay if they weren't, or dump her on a suspicion, or make a jealous scene and risk getting dumped yourself and watch her try to become a Double-P Girl out of spite.

The Predators didn't care about any of this interpersonal drama themselves... whether these boyfriends got mad and dumped their girl, or if she made a promise to be loyal and true (regardless of if she'd been that way so far), Predators barely noticed, since if you were a guy and weren't a jock of some sort, you were barely on the radar. As long as he didn't do something stupid like attack the guy the girl spread her legs or ass or mouth for, Predators would just ignore his feelings and keep fucking his girl whenever the urge struck, or trying given the opportunity, and let the couple sort out their business between themselves. "You don't support the school, who gives a fuck about you," was the attitude, and supporting the school included being cool about lending your girlfriend to the team. Marching band guys got a little more consideration, because they at least played at the games. Their girlfriends weren't off-limits, but many of the guys on the team wouldn't pursue unless she was super hot... otherwise, they'd only do it if the girls offered themselves. Plenty did, from what Peyton heard.

But she didn't quite see how any of that applied to this situation though. It wasn't as though they could bet their girlfriends over it.

Dave explained, "See, I talk you into this and I get... well, we call it ball control, or a marker. It's basically the right to declare one girl protected from and by, the team. They won't do anything to her without my okay, and they'll watch out if somebody else does. She can't be turned into a Double-P Girl. They'll respect my wishes, for one girl. It's a rare and valuable privilege. Only other one on the team right now is Brock, over there uses it on his little sister, who's been trying to be a Double-P Girl since she was nine and found out what it was. And you wouldn't believe what he had to do to get it."

"And if you win," Peyton asked, her heart skipping a beat, because he said that it might fuck up his chances by telling her, which meant it had to involve her somehow, didn't it? "Do you have a sister?"

"Yeah, but she's older and there's not much worth protecting, she's had more Predator cocks inside her than I've seen in the showers. No, me, I've got my eye on a little blonde girl that I want to be sure that I've got the only chance to knock up." He grinned sheepishly and tugged on his hard dick. "Hey, I did say impregnation was a kink of mine."

"A little blonde girl like me?" she squeaked.

"A little blonde girl very much like you. If she'll have me."

Peyton swallowed a hard lump in her throat, then asked, "What if she doesn't want to get pregnant because she's too young for that?"

"I'm willing to wait, so long as I know the babies're going to be mine. My grandpa wants to make sure the family line and family money continues with the family name and I can't bear to lie to him and tell him I'm sure a baby's mine when I'm not. And I'm certainly not going to marry a girl who might pop out a baby who's the wrong color. I really need this exemption, Peyton, and I'm sure I could make it worth your while too."

It already was very appealing... it was like all the benefits of dating a guy on the football team without any of the downsides... the disposable nature of the girls, the widespread expectation that you're a slut. Hell, even her father might approve. He sometimes joked that she wasn't allowed to date, unless it was the next Peyton Manning (who she was named after) or Tom Brady, though she didn't know exactly how serious he was about those exceptions. She'd also overheard him telling a friend that if he caught the actual Peyton Manning with his cock buried in his daughter's ass he'd first ask for his autograph and then ask if he wouldn't mind pulling out and squirting it where it might produce a NFL hall-of-fame grandson, but then when he saw she was in the room he immediately stressed that he was "just kidding," and maybe it was the same with the joke about her dating rules.

Still, he loved football and held up the players as the ultimate examples in American manliness... well, at least the white ones. The black ones he accused of being overly political Black Lives Matters supporters... Peyton long knew that Daddy was a little bit racist too. But that wasn't a problem with Dave, he was white. And if Peyton presented a handsome, built young white man, a great football player, who seemed ready to one day marry her, and with money to boot, she had to imagine Daddy'd let them date. Sure it would be illegal because of the difference in their ages, but she thought he'd look the other way. He might even look the other way to sex in the house.

All she might have to do to get a perfect boyfriend is fuck a dog in front of everyone. An idea which just became a little more appealing.


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Gotta Support Your Team, continued AnonyMPC 18/02/04(Sun)03:38 No. 25333 ID: a609fb

But it would still fuck up her other dream of being head cheerleader. She couldn't say yes to that. Yet, anyway. What she could say was, "I don't think you messed up your chances to convince me. But I still don't think I can do what you want. And I still don't know how any of this is supposed to help the team."

"Let me lay it out for you. The Predators... we don't have the best offence. We're good, but not the best. Same with defense. Not the best kickers, either. I like to think our school has the best cheerleaders, but that might be my school spirit talking, since I know you haven't won any championships recently..."

It was the first thing he said this whole time that soured his chances at her fucking a dog for him. "Came closer than you," she snapped. Cheerleaders were never given the respect they deserved for their athletic talents.

His reaction smoothed things over, a little. "True enough, true enough. I just mean, the one thing that puts us head and shoulders above other teams is our morale. Our morale's the best in the state, maybe best in the country, especially lately. And because of that we're attracting better talent from nearby schools. The best players all wish they could go here, and some of them are finding ways to do it, because they want the life of a Predator. Take the team busses, for example. Envy of every other high schooler. And of course, cheerleaders benefit too."

The team drove to their away games, and special teambuilding trips, on two impressive deluxe luxury buses, with comfortable seats, tinted windows, lots of legroom, air-conditioning, WiFi, a movie projection system, and a bathroom. Between the two of them, there were more than enough seats for the team, so often guests or cheerleaders got to ride along, although they made sure to split each bus so half the team was on it. If the football team wasn't using it and other teams needed transportation for a solo gig it was usually granted, and sometimes other school groups were allowed to borrow one, but it was at the discretion of the team. Rumor had it the Forensic team got to use it once but only because the faculty adviser volunteered the girls to practice their oral arguments on the Predators and those arguments were very persuasive despite their mouths being full at the time.

Peyton wasn't sure if Dave meant other students were envious of the buses themselves, which certainly were impressive, or the other thing that set the bus apart from everyone else, the anything goes attitude that went on aboard. Each bus had a personal driver who officially functioned as chaperone, but the last time Peyton ever saw one of them lift a finger was when a girl in a front seat was giving a blowjob to one of the players, balked at the last second and caused a cum-splash on the windshield, which made the driver pull over and demand that if she's going to do that to swallow the load.

Peyton got most of her sex education on that bus in the months since her freshman year started, watching Predator girlfriends not-cheat or other guests, friends, and sometimes even teachers getting slutty and smutty and sticky. It was easy to go wild if you saw everyone else doing it and no one getting in trouble because nobody wanted to be the uncool person who told their parents that their English teacher ate out the sperm-filled pussy of a freshman cheerleader-wannabe, who was now never-gonna-be, but would probably wind up pregnant unless that tongue was really thorough. Or be the one who tattled on an unapproved detour to let everyone get milkshakes and burgers while they watched a girl who got teased with denied orgasms until she was willing to agree to take a dog cock in her ass.

The education that they got when they got to borrow the bus for cheerleader-only events was of a different kind, milder, like a fun mobile slumber party where the only adult supervision were just happy to watch and sometimes participate in the games of truth-or-dare. Those rides had girls swapping stories, walking around naked or nearly naked, sharing masturbation tips, demonstrating said tips on each other, but rarely getting anywhere more raunchy than a blowjob, which was almost always on the driver and after a lot of begging, since he had a strict schedule to keep and was usually the only cock on board. This was because none of the male cheerleaders were allowed on to ride along on such trips after an incident trying to replicate the famous Mentos and Coke experiment the very first time they were invited to use the then-new team bus. Which was proof that bus rides were not QUITE anything goes, and the extreme reaction to that slowed their realization of the blind eye approach to everything else, but since then the girls were still welcome to borrow it, but male cheerleaders had to ride with their parents, like some girls did by choice, or in a minivan driven by Coach Schumacher, which nobody wanted to.

But for all that the rides they shared with the Predators were raunchier, more girls participated when they were on their own, so it felt more daring to Peyton at least, who had dutifully avoided all invitations from the football players but considered anything with the cheer team just 'playing around.' A long tongue kiss with a squad mate, who didn't take that dare once or twice, or get a few useful masturbation tips demonstrated on each other sitting side by side? Only a few girls played with the driver, and only one took that unscheduled stop off at the glory hole on the way home from their regional championship. That was only because Darcy bet they'd win and backed it up by saying if they didn't, she'd spend twenty minutes at a glory hole sucking off anyone there. She was hoping her confidence in making that risky bet would motivate the team and it did... but another squad just had better moves and took the championship. Despite the disappointment at coming so close, they all watched her pay up without complaint, at least not until the aftermath... even though the girls all kept their vow not to tell anyone, Darcy was put on the probationary squad nonetheless because of a semen stain nobody noticed except their vigilant coach. Rumor had it one of the guys who anonymously shoved his cock in her mouth was also one of the adult night students and later recognized her at probationary practice from when he peeked through the hole before sticking his cock in. Rumor also had it that after seeing her, again, he offered her a ride home, and they now were dating, or at least fucking.

"Yes, we're all pretty fond of the team busses," Peyton agreed. "I still don't see how this relates to me, a dog, and an act I'm pretty sure is considered a sin." The preacher at their church seemed to bring it up an awful lot, along with other stuff teens got into. Video games, modern music, premarital sex and bestiality, two things Peyton knew were a lot of harmless fun, and two that others seemed to enjoy an awful lot. That made it hard to take the preacher seriously on the sin part, but it was still dirty and would ruin her rep and her dreams.

"You think those we got those buses for free? No, Peyton, the buses, the gas, the private drivers, all that shit's expensive. But we're happy to spend the money for team morale, which means school morale. But the budget has to come from somewhere, and it sure as hell doesn't come from the annual bake sale."

"I thought a lot of it was from alumni donations and parents."

"Officially, and some of them do donate an awful lot, but they do it because they know the team has the best chance of delivering the stuff they really want. Truth is, most of them don't give a fuck about sports. We do... we want to have the best team, the best school, and so we do what we need to do to get the donations to get the best equipment and recruit the best talent. And you know what people pay top dollar to get? Their dream porn scenes. Predators all gotta support their team, and the Predators' secret side business is smut. We make it, sell it, arrange it, often star in it... not gay porn, mostly, though there are a couple guys who have dabbled, but it's mostly girls who are in demand. But we only make so much off us and our girlfriends, even when we get our girls to do stuff on the side. To keep the school athletics department living in the style we're used to, we need more girls doing more stuff to make money. We need you, Peyton, or team morale's going to plummet, and without our top-rank morale, we'll fall apart."

"Oh, I see. You want me to fuck a dog and sell the video." It was an exciting thought, but... no way, no how, her momma didn't raise no fools... Peyton wasn't letting a video circulate that was going to come back to haunt her. "Well like I said, you'll have to find some other girl. If it's got to be someone who hasn't done it before..." and she could see how that might be more valuable, "I can maybe tell you some names of girls who said they were curious, but it isn't going to be me. Maybe I'd do it in private..." Oops, that was probably a wrong thing to admit, but since she had, she might as well look like it was intentional, "if it would win you your bet. I'd at least think about that, but the video is a deal-breaker."

"But it has to be you, and it has to be live streamed."

"What, you have some sort of special order for porn of me or something?"

"Of course we do. Does that surprise you? But really, that's not what this is about. Frankly, I don't think there's a girl in our school we don't have special orders for. Even the girls I personally think are unattractive, someone's willing to pay us to see them getting fucked by a guy, or a gang of guys, or a dog, or themselves..."

"Themselves?" That didn't make sense, until Peyton tossed it over a few times in her head. If the Predators made that happen... "Wouldn't that be prostitution?"

"Prostitution's just a fancy word for a live porn shoot. But sure, call 'em whores if you want, some of our buyers want whores, and we try our best to make it happen. A special order's a special order, and as long as they're willing to pay, we try to serve up a good product. Every girl is somebody's type, you know, even Tandy with her muscular disorder and her wheelchair. Sometimes its parents or uncles or siblings who want to see a family member take a cock up their ass, get pissed on, otherwise degraded... surprisingly common." Peyton found that hard to believe, but then a fantasy of taking out a special order on her little sister Hannah came unbidden to her mind, and she decided it wasn't so hard to believe after all. She wondered how many people she trusted wanted to watch her get fucked. "So yeah, there are plenty of special orders out for you. Not the absolute most, but certainly far more than Tandy... though she gets more than I'd have guessed since her face looks all weird. Maybe that's prejudiced of me to say. She does give a great sloppy blowjob."

"So, what makes me so special? Am I last on your list or something?" If even Tandy was doing it...

"No, you're not the only virgin in school. Most girls we get special orders for, we accept they're never gonna happen. Don't ask me why, but some girls just aren't wired that way, and plenty are just too scared of a bad reputation, and rape's just too risky mostly. You never know when a girl will run to some cop who isn't rooting for the team, so we only do those if the price is really high. We do more far more fake rapes than real rapes. If you're interested in being fake-raped on video, by the way, we do have a few orders you can help us fill... but we can talk about that after you fuck a dog. But most of our special orders we never get a chance to fill, and that's why we need your help. The truth is, we're barely breaking even these days with the team expenses, and we've got big plans that we need big bucks for, and you're the key to getting them. You getting fucked by a dog, in particular."

"I still can't figure out why. What, is someone offering big bucks for that scene? More than anyone else?" That was pretty flattering, if she were to be honest.

"There are people offering a good price to see you fucked by a dog, though not more than anyone else. I wouldn't even say big bucks, at least not nearly big enough to get us out of our problem. It's nothing to turn our nose up at, but it's really not about the people paying us directly for a dog sex video with you... I mean, we'll sell them all a video if you're okay with it but if it takes promising we won't sell the video to get that dog's cock inside of you, we'll do it."


>>
Gotta Support Your Team, continued AnonyMPC 18/02/04(Sun)14:22 No. 25337 ID: a609fb

This was getting interesting, as she couldn't think of any reason to make that offer. "So why does it have to be me?"

Dave made a face, and then looked at her with earnest hopeful eyes. "Can't you just trust me and fuck Carlos' dog on a livestream, no questions asked, to help out the team?"

"I'd like to..." Trust him, she meant, and blushed as she realized it probably sounded like she wanted to fuck that dog. "But I have to know, what's this about?"

He sighed, let go of his cock, which he had been casually stroking through the conversation, and let it dangle. "Fine. I might be screwing this up by telling you this, but... it's not really about you at all."

That was disappointing. "Then what's it about?"

"The example you set. See, dog fuck videos really are our best money, outside of maybe virgins. Highly requested, and we can resell them overseas like you wouldn't believe. Or at least we could if we had many of them. Nobody wants to do 'em. Well, not nobody. I'm sure you know a handful of girls at our school that have fucked dogs. And you know they never live it down. You girls can be merciless. Slut-shaming is 90% on you girls, guys love sluts. These days, even with the fun sexually adventurous girls, most of them don't even want to give a blowjob on camera for fear it'll give her that label. It's really putting a damper on team funds, and team morale. But you can change that. You're a role model."

"I don't think I'm that much of a role model," Peyton said, feeling flattered again nonetheless. "I mean, I don't think it's suddenly going to become cool to fuck dogs just because I do it. I'm just a freshman, older girls barely know I exist."

"Oh, that's true." She frowned. "I'm kidding. You're more known than you think, anyway. I mean, yeah, you're still a freshman, and so it's not like you're the queen of the school, but you're respected. You're a cheerleader, and a damn good one. And you're not an asshole, you're the kind of girl that guys want to knock up and girls are envious of without being resentful. Some girls want to fuck you too, I have it on good authority that the female faction of the Gay-Straight Alliance masturbate together to pictures someone took in a change room." She knew about those, didn't think it was a big deal as long as no boys saw them, and was just glad none of what happened on the bus got out, or the private tastes she sometimes gave to girls who joined the Gay-Straight Alliance thinking they were straight, but later confessed that they thought they might be bi after one of those masturbation sessions. That would be a huge betrayal of her trust. "You might keep your own legs shut, but you're not a prude about other people... you treat all the Double-P Girls like they're any other friend of yours, and when you say slut, everyone thinks it's a compliment, so nobody wants to bring you down. If you start fucking dogs, believe me, the school will take notice and nobody will think, 'Yes! That self-righteous bitch finally slipped up, let's ruin her life!' Instead they'll think, 'Hey, we've all got secret kinks, I'm not going to judge her.' And plenty will think, 'Hey, if Peyton likes it, maybe bestiality isn't so bad.' They won't all jump in to do it, but that's just stage one. See, you're neglecting the huge influence you have in the other direction."

"The other direction?" Boys?

It wasn't boys. "If we want to get donations really up, enough to keep the busses running, maybe even get a special off-campus playhouse the team can party in, we need a supply of middle school whores. That's always what held us back the most, the big score. We get one or two, here or there, sisters of Predators, or sisters of Double-P Girls, mostly, like the girl squirming all over Brock's cock over there, and a few other naturally baby whores we've already got working for us, but no broad penetration. Middle school girls are even more judgmental about sex than high school girls. You're our key to changing that."

"Really? I'm that big an influence on them?" Her last year at that school, actually last year, she barely noticed the younger girls. Sure, there was the usual hazing, trying to trick the youngest girls to go to the southwest playground in the park alone, but she didn't think many of them fell for it and beyond that they didn't really mean much to her. None of them ever tried to sit at the lunch table she and her friends had claimed, which might count as a sign of respect now that she actually thought about it.

"No. Most of them barely know who you are. But you're a huge influence on someone they look up to. What you are to the Freshmen girls? Your little sister is to all the middle school girls. What she's into is what's cool, whether it be crop tops or taking doggy cock."

Peyton felt a flash of anger. Of course her little sister Hannah outshined her even in popularity at school. It wasn't like she didn't know. Hannah shared Peyton's blonde hair and bubbly attitude, but got better grades, had perfect teeth with no braces, and was all-around cuter. At home she got away with anything she wanted just with a wide-eyed smile or batted eyelashes. It was a wonder she wasn't a spoiled brat, but no, she was even disgustingly nice to Peyton so she felt guilty about being mad when she lost out. What really hurt was Daddy, who seemed to dote on Hannah and snuggled with her on the couch and with Peyton had become distant in the last couple years. Peyton could still get extra money or relief from a grounding or chores if she said pretty-please, but Dad always took her little sister's side in any arguments and it seemed like he made all her school events instead of only once in a while with Peyton, and that hurt. Mom at least was more even... she sided with Peyton in fights more if anything, but she knew it was just out of guilt because Peyton knew she was a cheating slut.

"So you only want me to fuck a dog because you think it'll make my sister fuck a dog?" She made a sour face.

Dave seemed to ignore it. "Which'll make other middle schoolers want to fuck a dog. And once a girl fucks a dog and everyone knows it, she stops worrying about people thinking she's a slut, and starts thinking about what benefits she can get from being one. It can happen to you too, and believe me, it'll change your life for the better and really help out the team."

"Okay, first of all, you're crazy if you think she'd do something like that..."

"Fucking a dog?"

"Yes, fucking a dog..." It was amazing how quickly that phrase rolled off the tongue now, and she wondered if they were deliberately trying to get her to say it so often just so it would seem more normal. It was working... she had to keep reminding herself that it wasn't normal. Peyton continued, "Just because I do it on camera. Secondly... she's my sister! She's twelve! And you want me to turn her into some slut so you can sell her and her friends to perverted old men? That's sick."

"Yeah, we do, and it is... but don't you want to see your perfect little sister taken down a peg? To have your parents not think of her as perfect?"

Wow, she thought, maybe we're soulmates. Because Dave's words spoke to Peyton's deepest, innermost self in a way she'd never admit even in her thoughts, until a handsome man said it and all she had to do was agree. Not that she actually would betray her sister for that petty satisfaction, probably, but hearing it aloud made Peyton want to do whatever she could to get the man who knew her innermost desires so well to be her boyfriend. That just happened to include fucking a dog so her sister would. Would that be wrong, if it was for true love between soulmates? "Maybe a little," she said answering both questions. "But still." Convince me, she tried to send with her eyes.

"And you're wrong, she'd totally do it. That's why we need you here now, and we need this all on video. She's at a friend's house right now waiting for the live stream to start so she can watch it happen. She doesn't believe YOU'D do it. She wants to, she wants to see you all sloppy and cumming on a canine cock, I think she really wants to try it herself, but she thinks you're too classy to, and more than anything she wants to be classy and cool like you."

Peyton's head spun. It sounded incredible, but... could it be true? "Maybe she wants to see it," Peyton allowed. "I could see her wanting to see me do something that perverted and messy." She thought some more about the idea and nodded. "Yeah, I can see her wanting to see me degraded and begging for more. It's a sibling rivalry thing. I'd want to see her like that, too." She blushed, realizing it was the wrong thing to admit, but another thing that was too late. "But it wouldn't inspire her to do it herself." If anything the opposite, it was what they called a vicarious thrill. She was master of riding that thrill. Watching other girls on the bus do perverted things... sure it also made her want to try, see what it really felt like instead of just imagining it, but at the same time it made it easier to say no to trying. Maybe her sister was the same way. "If anything, she's playing you. You're seriously overestimating how much influence I have on her. We fight all the time."

"Really? What do you fight about?"

"Oh, you know, sister things. She takes my stuff without permission, snooping around in my room, interfering with my plans, makes a nuisance of herself."

"So basically she's always in your hair?"

"Exactly!"

"Because she wants to be near you, doing the things you're doing. She gets good grades because she knows you did. She joined middle school cheer because you were on it. When you're around, she wants your attention any way she can get it. That's kind of my point. Most of the guys on the team think she's got a huge crush on you."

"A what?" She didn't know what was harder to believe, that the guys on the team had discussed it and came to that conclusion, or that it might be true. Now that Peyton thought about, a lot of their fights were about wanting Hannah to give her some space, even at embarrassing times like going to the bathroom or shaving pussy.

"A crush. Like we're not sure it's a romantic one, or even a sexual one... she might not rub her pussy every night to the thought of making out with you, or eating you out...though given some of the things we know, that's probably part of it. But she wants to be just like you. If you ask me, it's because you're the only one who she feels she has to earn affection from... everyone else heaps it on her, but you, she only it gets it when she behaves the way you want, so that makes her feel she's really deserved it."

"If she behaved the way I wanted, we wouldn't fight at all."

"She's still a kid, she's feeling her way through life, she'll make mistakes. And it's confusing and frustrating when the person who you idolize doesn't want you around."

Peyton rolled that thought around in her head. Idolization, maybe. Romantic or sexual crushes? Hard to believe. It was flattering, exciting even, and might explain a few things if it were true... but even allowing that big if, she wasn't sure it changed anything. It was still her annoying little sister, after all, the one she's had to look out for all her life... she loved Hannah, sure, but it was a sibling love, full of almost as much resentment as affection. And it was still ridiculous to think that Hannah'd fuck a dog just because she did. Or that she'd convince anyone to follow her. "Okay, clearly you've been taking your sports psychology sessions too seriously," she said. It was a thing the team had, a tutor who lectured them on ways to psyche out their opponents... and given their record, obviously not doing a very good job. This was probably more of that. "You're making a lot of guesses on top of other guesses and they've got you thinking the impossible. I mean, my relationship with my sister is not the key to unlocking middle school promiscuity."

"It's worked pretty well so far."

"What do you mean?"

Dave grinned at her. "You think we started with dog fucking? You think we pulled this theory out of thin air?" He shook his head. "Right now, anyone who's anyone in the middle school eats pussy. Girls at least, although boys are catching on. It's just a thing friends do. That's how we found out about it, and we asked around, and guess what? Your little sister taught her friends that that was what cool people in high school did. Cool people like you."

"What? I don't know what you heard, but I've never..."

"Stuck your tongue in a pussy? Yeah, we know. Or at least, we don't know anyone reliable who says it. We know some girl-girl fun goes down when you guys borrow the bus, but you've kept yourself to kisses and fingers, innocent stuff, never tasted pussy yourself. But we've also heard that when it's someone else's tongue and YOUR pussy, you're a little more flexible."

She felt herself blush. "Those bitches! They promised to keep it quiet!"

"They? Well, well, well. We thought it was just one lucky girl." Now she blushed twice as hard. Now the secret was out... though, in truth, she suspected it was out already. After all, it probably wasn't coincidence that so many girls asked her to help them decide if they were gay. "Hey, I get it. I mean, I've never had to resort to it, but if I was horny enough and didn't have a girl willing to suck my cock, I probably would let a guy do it. It's just pleasure. Doesn't say anything about you."

"Well, someone was saying something about me. Who was the lucky girl?"

"That'd be Laney. She told your sister that you ate each other out, that it was what friends did, and got your sister to do it to her, and from there, it spread through her school. When we confronted her, she admitted what she did, that you'd never licked her back and she just was mad at you for not having her back when she got kicked off the team and that was why she tricked your sister. You'll be happy to know that your sister is apparently really, really good at licking pussy by the way. Everyone agrees. Laney says she's getting all the practice she can so she can impress you with her tonguework if you ever decide that she's not just a sister but also a friend."

"She wants to lick me?"

"So bad it must hurt. Any way she can get it. She's told Laney if you didn't want her to do it as a friend, she'd love to serve as your masturbation aid, or your clean-up crew if you ever get a boyfriend who cums inside of you. In fact, we're pretty well agreed, that if we wanted to get her to eat dog cum, we'd either have to get you to and let her watch you do it, or just get a dog to cum in drop his load in your cunt and get you to offer your pussy for eating. So, you know, if you absolutely refuse to do it on camera, if you're willing to fuck Carlos' dog privately and let your sister eat you out when you get home, it'd still help the team a lot."

She shook her head. "I don't think so, she wouldn't really do it, she just talks big for Laney. Even if she thought she wanted to eat me out, the smell of cum would turn her right off."

"Hasn't so far. Yeah, don't look so surprised. Eating pussy isn't the only thing your sister's made popular... thanks to her desire to be like her big sister, there's a lowkey lunch hour glory hole service by the middle school."

"What? Okay, this time I'm being totally honest, I've never sucked a dick in my life! And you're saying my little sister has?"

"Several. And sucked the cum out of Laney's fresh-fucked pussy, but that came after. She likes watching a good fuck, and seems like watching gets her hungry."

If Dave was her boyfriend, and sex was okay, that could work out all right. But he wasn't... and there was a flaw in his argument, she'd never tasted cum. "So obviously, it's nothing to do with me, she's just, you know, slutty." She tried her best not to make it sound like an insult, since he'd just finished praising her for that.

"You know that girl Darcy, on your cheer team?" Peyton nodded, dazed by the sudden topic shift. The glory hole girl. Now a probationary cheerleader at the second-string practices. "When she's kneeling to suck a cock poking out of a wall, she looks an awful lot like you from the back."

Her mouth hung open. She remembered that night well... didn't know anyone filmed it, it was against the unspoken rule, but apparently somebody did, and somehow Peyton got the blame for it.

"Admittedly it was a dirty trick... I want you to know, I wasn't behind that, but it did prove our little theory. She wants to do what her big sister does. And the other girls want to do what she does. Or outdo her. The sixth-grade class president is organizing a blowjob buffet at her birthday party. A few of the Predators have invitations because, from that video, bigger is obviously better."

"I can't believe you did that. I don't want my sister thinking I sucked a cock out of a hole. And if that story somehow got around to my parents..."

"You know, that really won't be a worry if you fuck a dog..."

"That would make it even worse!"

"No, it'd make it even better! If people already think you're a slut, you might as well enjoy it, right? But the truth is, only middle schoolers believe it, and not even all of those. Even your sister's getting pretty suspicious of it."

"She is?"

"Yeah. Which is kind of why we've been pushing this so hard. The ones who fooled her? They fucked up. She was all excited about it at first, told all her friends, but now she's starting to think it was all a trick, that you really aren't the secret slut they've been painting you as. Now she's asking for proof of every story. Including the dog-fucking ones. And if she doesn't get it, well, the word will go out, that you're a prim and proper young lady who never does anything sexual, and Hannah will try to behave that way too, that that's the cool way to behave. And that's like, the worst thing that could happen. The blowjob buffet'll be cancelled, the new glory hole will end, and girl-girl sex might even go out of style. Worse... not only do we not get the middle school whores we've been counting on, but then in a couple years, they may become high school prudes. The team'll be royally fucked then. We might have moved on by then, but the team will always matter to us, school spirit is forever, you should understand that. How would we feel if we screwed up such a good thing? I know if I just let it happen without doing anything I could to stop it, I'd feel horrible. That's why we need your help, we need to show your sister that we weren't lying, so, please, Peyton, I'm begging you, for the sake of the team, will you please fuck a dog on camera and smile like it's the best thing ever? After that, you can go back to saving your virginity, at least until you meet the right guy, and if you do it well enough, before long everyone will believe it was just a nasty rumor that you fucked a dog in the park, except for your sister of course, and maybe the middle school, and us. We will never, ever forget what you did for us. The team would owe you a huge debt. And we've got pull, we could get you that head cheerleader position once you're eligible for varsity. Or any position you like."


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Gotta Support Your Team, continued AnonyMPC 18/02/04(Sun)18:34 No. 25338 ID: a609fb

It was surprisingly tempting. Seeing her baby sister turned into a dog-fucking whore... maybe she could even ask for a cut of the money they'd get. A thrill went through her, but then immediately got pushed down. No, it was too scary to actually do that. You could never be sure a video like that wouldn't leak, spread around the school, get back to her parents. And besides, it was a dog. If fucking a dog was so fun everyone would do it, right? "Look, I just don't know if I can do that. I mean, if you need to trick my little sister into thinking I fucked a dog, sure, I can live with that... maybe you can tell her I did but wouldn't do it on camera. I'll even play along in private and let her lick my pussy and imagine it's full of doggy cum. But it's one thing to pretend, another thing to actually do it in front of everyone and have everyone know."

"Suspect, not know. You'd get the best of both worlds, everyone who thinks it's cool would think you've got a secret kinky side, and everyone who doesn't would think you've been horribly mistreated. But the dog-fucking has to be real, you can't fake that. Your sister would taste the lack of dog cum and call us all liars. Even with a weird taste, she might not believe us without video that the taste is doggy cum. We'll take it however far you want, but if you're going to go one step, might as well go all the way. If you're willing to let her eat you out, you might as well let the dog fuck you, and if you're going to do that, you might as well let your sister watch live from Laney's house. Oh, not to put any pressure on you, but... this might be your last chance to fuck a dog and get away with it."

Peyton smirked. Her dad was a salesman, and he told her one good way to get someone off the fence was to make them think the offer was going away if they didn't act now. "Oh, really?"

"Either this all blows up in our faces, or it doesn't. If it does, fucking dogs will stay the kind of kinky shit only real freaks get into. If we manage to salvage it, without you fucking a dog, then we're going to keep trying to make it trendy. We gotta. And if we do... well, let's just say, you'll have lost your chance to do it without being considered a bandwagon jumper. And you know how it goes in this town, with any bandwagon jumper, there's a cost to be paid." It was true, a friendly tradition, not just at the high school level but for the town as a whole, including sports at all levels... if you only supported the team when they were winning, the true fans embarrassed you for it. Fair-weather fans, the men, had to dress up in slutty cheerleader outfits to go to a game, or deliver their girlfriends, sisters, or mothers to the team for a gangbang before you'd be accepted. Women often had to get a team logo tattooed in a sensitive place, and flash it during the game, or streak, just to show you were really committed.

Peyton could imagine how that would apply to sex with animals. Just because 'Act now or risk missing out!' was a good sales technique didn't mean it wasn't also sometimes true. It worked for a reason. She wasn't sure she wanted to fuck a dog, ever, but she couldn't rule it out as she would have only hours ago. "And what's the cost?"

Dave's hand went back to work on his cock, which had faltered a little while he made his case but jumped as he related his view of the future. "We're thinking of giving new girls a choice after their first dog fuck, wear a collar and leash for a month, or get a paw-print tattoo on their ass with something like 'certified mutt slut.' If we find out they tried a little doggy sex without owning up to it--and believe me, we can tell, a well-trained dog can sense a human bitch--then we'll make 'em do both, make sure the paw print is high enough that they can't wear belly shirts, and then use the leash to parade them through the school naked at pep rallys. Don't think we can't do it, either. If we pull this off, we'll be rolling in dough, and the administration has promised they'll have our backs for virtually anything up to and including non-violent rapes on stage of sluts in denial. Not good girls like you, but good girls like you will have to be very careful not to fall. It'll be a divided school, between the kinky fucks and the respectable side. I guess it always was, but the difference is, there'll be fewer hypocrites about who is who, especially with dog fuckings, and the respectable girls are going to be an endangered species with the middle school sluts about to replace them and the kinky side getting even kinkier and having more fun and getting away with it. The girls who helped us start the dogfucking trend, they'll have plausible deniability, able to pretend to belong to both sides. Well, except the ones with videos out, but even then, only the kind of people who watch bestiality videos will know for sure and they'll consider it a good thing. If we do our job right everyone in town will know the girls who only did it to get popular with the kinky fucks. So if you have any inkling that you might want to try doggy sex, but you want to keep your reputation intact with your parents and college recruiters, it's really best you take the knot now."

It was a bold vision of the future... crazy, impossible, but so bold Peyton had to let Dave ramble on and listened to the whole thing with wide-eyed anticipation, almost believing that it could be true, and not just something he got excited about while he stroked his dick. It even sounded like a world she might want to be a part of, not as an out and open dog slut, at least probably, but as one of the girls who got to hold the leash of the bandwagon jumpers.

If only too many of her dreams didn't depend on not being a part of it. He was right about one thing, it always was a divided school, full of both Double-P Girls and girls who've taken a chastity pledge, and cheerleaders who were expected to at least not be caught being dirty. Peyton had gotten by so far being mostly on the truly respectable side and watching the kinky stuff going on under her nose. Gotten off to it, but mostly at home, and now she wished she was there so she could take care of the need all this talk had caused. Or at least get raped into something kinky, a good rape that would make it obvious to anyone that she was still choosing to be respectable, but sometimes you get the choice taken away. Maybe it didn't need to be quite so obvious to her little sister. She was starting to think it would be okay if Hannah thought it was done by choice. Was there any way they could force her down and put a dog on top of her and somehow let her prove afterwards she was forced into it? "Look, I wish you luck, and I want to support the team, but I don't know if I could do anything with a dog. At least, not by choice. I mean, it's a dog."

A dog that was headed her way, now, along with Carlos, holding the leash, and Jamal beside him. When they got close, Carlos said, "Hey, man, have you convinced her yet?"

"Not yet," Dave said. Not yet meant he still thought it was going to happen. She admired the confidence. Almost believed in it.

"What's the hold-up?" Jamal said. "If you can't seal the deal, give up on the prize and let someone else try. Lotta people waiting."

Dave shot him a scowl. "Look, this isn't one of your cock-addicted stoner girls with nothing to lose. She's a sweet girl who really wants to help us out but is afraid of crossing a line that can't be uncrossed. That's natural. She's never even sucked a cock, much less a dog cock. Hasn't really even seen it up close."

"Well, here's your chance, if you want," Carlos said. "To look, I mean. I guess you can suck too if that'll make you feel better."

"I'm not going to suck," Peyton said. "But I suppose it doesn't hurt to look." She stepped off her seat and drew close to the dog. Dave followed behind after putting his cock away, or at least leaving it tucked into the waistband of his boxers so his pants wouldn't fall down while he walked. The dog sure was a friendly fellow, wagging his tail eagerly and the moment she came near he was trying to smell her legs, trying because Carlos kept a hold of the leash and directed him to turn to the side. Peyton knelt and looked at the furry little protrusion, the part that she knew wasn't the whole thing but just indicated where it was. "So, how do you get it to come out."

"You suck," Jamal suggested, but Dave hit him.

Carlos explained, "We've got him trained. Scratch him at the back, just at the base of his tail. Or pull up your skirt and let him smell your pussy. Either way will get him hard."

She shivered, imagining the second option, but went with the first, gave the dog a little scratch at the designated place. "He's cuter than I expected." She wasn't sure the breed, but looked like he had golden retriever in there somewhere, adding eager expressive eyes and floppy ears that softened what otherwise might be an intimidating beast. "What's his name?"

"Dameron, after the best Star Wars character. We call him Dam for short, though. And he prefers sexy to cute."

"I'm sorry, I just don't find dogs sexy at all. They're just...." But she watched, and scratched, as a long veiny pink cock started to emerge, and she forgot to finish with the word "cute." The cock wasn't cute. Or sexy. Compared to Dave's, it was downright ugly. But it was impressive, maybe more impressive, and it demanded attention, respect even.

"Now imagine that meat ramming inside your tight little pussy," she heard, a breathy whisper at her side. Jamal. And she couldn't help it, she did, imagined vividly, watching it disappear, even imagined what it'd look like to someone watching on a video. Damn good, it seemed to her. What she couldn't imagine was the feel, not exactly anyway, she'd never had anything that big inside of her, and the only thing she'd had inside of her that was warm and alive was a girl's finger or a tongue, much smaller. This felt like something that was part finger, part tongue, and a hell of a lot bigger than both of them put together. And it squirted, she assumed. She always wondered what it felt like, something squirting. Girls tongues didn't squirt... the closest was when one girl spit in her pussy, but that was mostly outside, not in. Peyton could try and imagine that, and the feel of being split apart by something that big and ugly, but it was too outside of her experience, especially when her imagination was already in overdrive, trying to speculate at so many other things... the belly fur against her ass, the paws on her body (she was stuck wondering, would they be on her back, or on her shoulders, or just beside her? Would the claws dig into her and hurt?), how much of the wild tongue Dam would use during sex. Trying to put all of that together into one mental picture? That was like a dream right after waking up, she could chase after wisps of it but never the whole thing. Peyton, with regret, decided that the only way she'd ever be able to really capture the whole experience in her head was by remembering it after she tried it out.

Which still wasn't an option. "I can't," she whined, and now she knew she sounded truly regretful. "I'm sorry, I'd love to help, but I haven't really done anything sexual with a person." The lesbian stuff didn't count. "I don't think I could do it with a dog."

"You can take baby steps, if you want," Dave suggested. "Just hold the dick. Or better yet, let him lick you for a while."

"He does love to lick pussy juice," Carlos pointed out. "The Dam bitches can't get enough of his long doggy tongue, either." He went on as though she asked, "That's what we call the girls Dam fucks on the regular, the Dam bitches. It's funny, you know?"

"Is that why you called him Dameron instead of Poe?"

"No, but my Uncle Guapo, everyone calls him Po, and he lives with us... it woulda been confusing. Besides, would you rather be a Poe Bitch or a Dam Bitch?"

"I guess if I had to choose, a Dam bitch," Peyton said, still watching the cock for a few seconds before looking up. "I know that's what you want to make me." He shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal. "And I can also figure out what you're thinking, if I do something like touch it, or have it lick me, well, then I'm halfway to being a Dam bitch. Even if I don't like him licking my pussy, everyone will know what I tried and I look almost as bad." She looked around, Carlos, Jamal, Dave, and Dameron were the only ones immediately nearby, but there were still lots of people casually watching and pretending they weren't. "Anyone here could have a camera."

"I've got a solution," Jamal said from behind her. "It'll help you make up your mind. Foolproof. But you have to promise to go through with it before I tell you."

That pulled Peyton out of her cock-trance, and to her feet, dusting off her knees, looking at Jamal which was safer than looking at a dog cock. "Right. I'm not going to fall for that."

"No, I swear, you won't have to touch the dog if you don't want to. But if you don't promise in advance, it doesn't work. If it involves touching Dameron, or anyone else, or even yourself, you can back out, but short of that, you have to agree to try what I say. Deal?"

Peyton looked at him, looked to Dave, who shrugged like he didn't have any idea what was going on. Now she was getting damn curious. "Okay, fine, deal. I promise."


>>
Gotta Support Your Team, continued AnonyMPC 18/02/04(Sun)18:53 No. 25339 ID: a609fb

"Okay, here's what you do. See that tube there?" He pointed to a piece of park equipment, one of those blue plastic tunnels that kids could crawl through. She nodded. "You and Dameron go in the tunnel for five minutes. We stay back. It's small enough that he can't mount you, but he could sure lick your cunt good."

She frowned. "You said..."

"I didn't say you had to. Just that he could if you wanted to pull up your skirt and let him. Nobody can say you're going to do that. You already agreed to go into the tube without knowing what it was. But you could." He took a breath, leaving her thinking about it, then continued. "It's like an experiment they taught us in science class, Schrodinger's Cat. Cat in the box, no one knows if it's alive or dead if they don't open it. Except this is Schrodinger's Pussy. You go in with the dog. None of us know if you got a twat full of dog tongue or he just licked your hand for five minutes."

"You could peek through the ends, though." Or one of the little holes in the side that let light in, though you'd have to get closer to see anything through those.

"Except why would we? That only helps us if you're going in there to get eaten out by a dog. Are you going there to get eaten out by a dog? Cause if you are, it would save us a lot of trouble if you just try it out here." She shook her head, but she wasn't sure if she was lying. "If you don't do anything, it's better if we don't look because if you're in there long enough, maybe you'll get curious and change your mind. And since you know it's better for us if we don't look, you have the option to change your mind and keep it a secret... you can do whatever you want. Are we in the universe where you secretly let a dog lick your cunt? Or are we in a universe where you were a good girl? We'll never know unless you tell us. Which I think means until then we're in both, under quantum theory, anyway."

"Geez, Jamal," Dave said. "That's fucking brilliant, man. If you know that quantum physics shit, why did you fail last year?"

He shrugged. "I flunked the finals on purpose, cause the girls in high school are more fun than college girls. And the team needed me on defense."

Dave nodded. "Right. Team comes first. Principle to live by, right?" They exchanged a fistbump.

She nodded too, distantly, thinking of what she would do, or not do, in the tube. Helping the team was what this was all about, and she'd just agreed to that principle by nodding, but that probably wasn't binding. What was binding was her time in the tube. She did promise Jamal, and it didn't involve touching Dam, or anyone else, or even herself, unless she wanted it to. "Okay, I'll go into the tube with Dam here, but the only thing he'll be licking is my hand."

The two crawled down into the tube, Peyton's mind racing with possibilities, but she decided going in that she was still going to be a good girl. Inside, it was a tight fit and she could only see Dam's head, not his cock, and that helped a lot. "Be a good doggy, Dameron, and don't get any ideas." It would be easy to let him just lick her hand... even easier to just let him lick her legs, but that was just because of the position she was in. If her legs were closed, there was no problem with him licking legs, right? So that's what she did.

For the first minute, anyway.

Nobody seemed to be peeking in. She was very attentive of that at first as she submitted to the dog tongue which was more ticklish than anything else. But a good kind of ticklish. Would it be such a big deal to open her legs a little? If only to get in a more comfortable position.

The licks went up her thighs and Dam pressed forward, pressing his advantage as though he could smell the dripping pussy. Well, why not? Peyton thought after about ten seconds of thigh licking. There still didn't seem to be anyone looking. No one would know for sure that she pulled up her cheerleader skirt and the spanx to the side.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned as the tongue lashed out into her virgin pussy for the first time. It was so long, not like another girl's tongue. This got her slit, clit, and even a little bit of asshole all in one lick. And he wasn't satisfied with one lick. Peyton soon realized her mistake, everyone would know if she was--"OH FUCK YEAH," getting licked in a sensitive spot, or several, by the words, or the wordless cry that followed when she felt the dog's tongue slip inside her hole instead of around it, the closest thing to a fuck yet even if it was just one wiggly thrust and withdrawal. "Good doggy," she breathed. "You are such a good doggy," and let him lick some more. "That's it boy... oh, yeah... " And then clapped one hand over her traitorous mouth. The other hand, that was at her crotch now, spreading the lips apart to give Dam better access, and rubbing incidentally to make it feel much better. But with the hand on her mouth... she still made noise, but it was moans barely muffled as a wonderful wormlike tongue performed magic on her and brought her closer and closer to...

"Okay, Dam, that's enough," she heard through a fog of pleasure in her head, and then a growl and the sounds of claws scraping along plastic as the doggy unwillingly pulled away from her, dragged by the leash.

"No, no," she whined automatically as her hand left its duties guarding her mouth a little too soon. "Come back, I need that tongue..." Not just the tongue either, a cold nose that sometimes snorted with surprising and unexpected force against her pussy that complemented his licking nicely. But Dam was retreating, and her words hung in the air. When the dog was out, it turned away showing his erect penis and then walked away casually, and at the end of the tunnel Peyton saw a circle of heads, Carlos, Jamal, Dave, and the male gym teacher all of whom were looking down the tube at her legs spread and pussy exposed, glistening with doggy saliva. Schrodinger's Pussy was open, and everyone knew the kind of slut that was there. The worst part was, she couldn't even claim to be tricked... they told her all she had to do was not let him do anything, and she did anyway.

Dave's head disappeared from one end, and she saw him reappear on the other side of the tunnel, offering her a hand to get out and to her feet. She did, and it was like emerging into another universe... a universe where she just begged for a dog to eat her out, and everyone knew. A ragged cheer came out of the men in that universe, at least the ones nearby but it felt like all the men in the universe, and she realized that many of them were seeing her pussy still exposed under her cheerleader suit.

She got herself decent, which wasn't exactly the best way to describe it, but she at least covered her pussy in something other than dog-slobber. "That didn't go like I planned," she said to Dave.

"It's okay. Honestly, we don't really know what happened. Maybe he didn't lick you. Maybe you were playing some really big trick on us." Dave shrugged. "But we'd still really like it if you let him fuck you."

Carlos added, "And if you really did want the tongue back inside you, the good thing about Dam is, after he cums, he's more than willing to lick up his own mess. Let him drop a load inside you and his tongue will be in there until we drag him away."

And now her pussy practically ached with longing at the suggestion. Not just Carlos', either, it started with what Dave said. Before, every time she heard a suggestion that she fuck a dog, there was a little twitch of taboo delight at the idea, but easy to ignore. Now, it was hard to ignore, it was like a shout in her head saying, "YES FUCK THAT DOG." The tongue was good, and she wanted more of that too, but her pussy was crying out for something longer and harder to push her over the edge, and she didn't care who it belonged to or if it was on camera. Maybe she even wanted it, wanted to be a known doggy slut, wanted her sister to see it and join her. Maybe that was the real trick, getting her so horny that maybe she could still say no, but she didn't want to anymore. That's where she was.

All she had to do was decide if that want outweighed every other want she had. Right now it was pretty close. Just needed a little push one way or the other. "Ummm... were you serious when you said you knew a way that I could do this and still make head cheerleader?"

"Absolutely," Dave promised. "As long as you're willing to eat a little pussy, it's no problem."

"Dude, don't give it away."

"Hey, I didn't say whose pussy." It made sense though, now, that it was her coach's. She made the big decisions... nobody figured her for a lesbian because she was married, but she could easily be bi. Some girls were, some women must be too. Peyton wasn't, still never saw the attraction of eating pussy, still seemed a little gross, but a little bit of ick seemed a small price to pay. "And there's no sense holding out on her, if she won't do this, she won't do that. If she's willing to cooperate this far, I think we owe her even if she doesn't fuck a dog on video for us."

"Does it have to be on video?" she asked, hoping for a yes rather than a no. She looked into Dave's eyes, trying to convince him to say that even if it wasn't true.

"No, we can try to let your sister eat the cum out of you. It might work. I only get my prize if it you do it while we live stream it, though. And I'm not going to take a girlfriend unless I can trust a Predator with her."

That left her with a decision she didn't want to make. If he'd said yes, it would have been an easy one, now it was going to be a hard one. She was going to fuck the dog, she knew then, she just had to decide on what version of the rest of her life she wanted more, the one where she kept it mostly a secret and had a shot still looking like a good girl to her family, school, and college, or the one where she risked tossing her reputation in the trash and took her chances. "And you say it'd help out the team more if I do it on the stream, right?"

"It would."

"Okay, then I'll do it."

Everyone smiled then, even Peyton, once she'd made the promise, it seemed to be a huge weight off her shoulders. They got right to it, too, as though afraid she would change her mind, but she didn't think she would, or could, change her mind. It was like Dave said, it was a line that couldn't be uncrossed, even agreeing to it, so they guided her to the sand pit to a round of applause and made get down on all fours, still in her uniform, but pulled up to her waist, and stared into one of the many smartphone cameras pointed at her with a dazzling smile. Only one of them was going to the stream her sister was supposedly watching, she knew that, the others might be going other places or recorded permanently, maybe permanently ruin those cheerleader dreams she'd tried so hard to preserve, at least unless Dave wasn't lying to her about how far a slut could go, but her heart was beating so fast--and her cunt screaming in time with it--that she didn't care. She was ready to throw the good girl act aside and become part of the kinky fuck half of the school, that was the team she was on, in her heart, and you gotta support your team, all the way, so she smiled into every camera she saw and said, "My name's Peyton and I'm about to let you watch me fucking a dog, because I love my school so much. Go Predators!"


>>
Gotta Support Your Team, conclusion AnonyMPC 18/02/04(Sun)19:04 No. 25340 ID: a609fb

This tale's growing long as it is, and no one wants to read about a tiny teenage blonde cheerleader actually getting fucked by a dog so...

Oh, you do?

Fine.

Little blonde fourteen-year-old Peyton wiggled her ass at Dameron, showed off a drooling and blushing pussy for anyone recording, let the dog take a few licks with the magic tongue that got her into this mess, and then before she knew it he'd hopped up and a long hard fleshy spear was poking up against her and soon after that splitting apart her tight virgin labia, possibly soon ex-virgin depending on whether you think dogs counted, although almost certainly ex-virgin within a few hours regardless. Dameron sank inside her, almost calmly at first, like she was any other bitch, then started a powerful animalistic humping that made Peyton's eyes roll up in her head as she was finally pushed over into her first orgasm of the night, despite the pain. She didn't feel the dog's paws or claws on her shoulder like she imagined, just, under the pleasurable and painful sensation of being split apart and the sound of her own moans, a constant awareness of soft fur. She managed to have another orgasm, screaming about how much she loved being a doggy slut, when the dog knotted, but that's really where fantasy works better than reality, since at that point he simply turned away from her, leaving the still large cock ending in an even larger knot inside her to dribble (not squirt) doggy cum into a (potentially) ex-virgin cunt, but the humping had stopped and so did a lot of fun. The fantasy of a girl to get knotted by a dog is a lot more exciting than the actuality, as unless a dog is really well trained, the fucking is over at that point and it's not really worth talking about. It's still fun to watch a little girl in that predicament, mind you, and by the time dog-fucking got to be a middle school trend they'd gotten better trained dogs, but that night Peyton just had to lie a little on camera, about how it was everything she dreamed of and a lot of fun and she'd absolutely do it again. It was fun, and she didn't rule out doing it again, it was just a bit of a letdown at the end, and she was pleased when the knot finally came loose leaving a flood of runny cum, so she could pose for pictures with her fingers in a peace sign and a pussy that no longer knew shame, at least for a while.

That was more worth talking about. Jamal was the first, and wanted his picture with her on her knees, spread because Dam's tongue was licking up his mess, and, while they posed but before the picture was taken, the Predator called a halt and dragged his cock out. "Here, why don't we take a better picture. Open up!"

She stared at a cock that was bigger than Dameron's, and a lot more appetizing, and the doggy tongue licking doggy cum out of her recently doggy-fucked pussy make the idea really appealing, but some shred of shame and dignity had returned and made her draw back at the suggestion. And also because she still knew cum would taste awful. Actually having a cock in her mouth always seemed pretty cool, just not to deal with the yucky mess, and she didn't think Jamal would settle for just a posed picture. "Uh, I said I'd have sex with a dog, I didn't say I'd do anything else."

Jamal shook his head sadly. "You'd fuck a dog but not suck my cock? It's because I'm black? Wow. That's blatantly racist." He waved his hand outward to the crowd. "Do you want the whole team to see you being racist? Or are you going to agree that Black Cocks Matter?"

Her dad told her that if she ever heard 'Black Lives Matter' to shout 'All Lives Matter.' She never did, but wondered if that applied to cocks, as well. That would seem like an offer to suck everyone here, and between orgasms she was starting to feel doubt and a nagging feeling that maybe she should try to limit the damage to her reputation. On the other hand, she didn't want to look racist, so maybe just sucking a black cock was better. Then, finally, she remembered she had a good reason, or at least a good excuse, she shouldn't do that, either. She looked around, saw Dave, who had a shit-eating grin on his face, hanging out with Sammy and a couple other team members a few feet away. "Well, Dave won me, right? So if he's my boyfriend, I can't suck your cock. I'd really love to, but it'd be cheating."

Jamal looked confused, and his smile faltered, then restored itself. "Oh yeah? You hear that Dave?"

Dave looked up, and Peyton thought he looked guilty for not being able to help out his team mate. That must have been why he said, "Yeah. And she's right, but... it's only cheating if I don't okay it right? And I gotta admit, if Jamal didn't help out with his idea, you might never have become a certified mutt slut. So, go ahead, suck him off. Set a good example for the middle school whores."

After saying she'd love to suck his cock, she could hardly change her mind when given permission, so she opened her mouth for the first ever dick that had gone inside, but not the last, or the last that night. Seemed like Dave was pretty liberal with what he'd allow his girlfriend to do, and All Cocks did matter.

At least she assumed Dave was liberal with his girlfriends, anyway. While she was struggling to fit her first big black cock into her mouth, Carlos finally pulled Dam away, sat on the bench next to Dave, threw his dog a treat from his pocket so he'd stop whining about missing his chance to lap up cum and pussy juice, and said, "So you going to break the news that the pretty blonde girl you were planning on calling dibs on is her little sister Hannah?"

Dave looked back at a little blonde star cheerleader giving up her oral virginity to a black cock, looking at him wide-eyed and seeking approval. He shot her a smile and a thumbs up, and said, too quietly for her to hear, "Eventually, but I don't want to shatter her illusions right away. I feel bad that she took it that way, and she really did a huge favor for the team, the least I can do is pretend to be interested in her for a few days. And we're probably going to need at least a week to get Hannah spreading the gospel of dog fucking, oral, and anal whoring through the middle school anyway before I lock her down and start trying to knock her up. Might as well keep my mark on Peyton until then just to be polite. Maybe I'll get lucky and get her pregnant before her dad makes a move. You did send her dog fucking video to him, right?"

"Yup. I'm sure he'll send the rest of the bounty after he finishes jacking off. Good job, man."

"Couldn't have done it without Dameron here. And Jamal, too. Hey, speaking of which, it's gonna take her forever to make him cum. Feel like going on a beer run?"

"Sounds good. Maybe we can pick up a few more girls, improve the ratio a bit. These girls are going to be worn out and stretched silly by the end of the night. Poor Mrs. Pokorny is already passed out and that fifth-grader Brock brought looks like she'd ready for bed time too."

"Good idea." Dave got up and took a few steps back to the sandpit. She looked up at him, her mouth stretched halfway down Jamal's cock. "We're gonna go out for more beer and a few more girls. Until we get back, your mouth and ass are fair game for any Predator, okay?" She made a surprised noise, but it couldn't be understood with Jamal's cock in the way. "That's my girl. Way to be a team-player!"

Maybe she hadn't intended to say yes, but she hadn't intended to say yes to dog fucking either. But she was a good cheerleader, on her way to becoming a head cheerleader, and all good cheerleaders know... you gotta support your team before anything else.

Hannah was a good cheerleader too, and seemed like a perfect girlfriend to Dave, at least for a while. But Dave did get a nasty surprise a few years later as his sweet underage wife, married at fourteen thanks to parental consent and a friendly judge, considering her pregnant condition at the time, finally delivered the baby and heir Dave's family had been waiting for. It was a difficult birth because of Hannah's size, and the baby needed some care, but a few hours later, Hannah was wheeled out and presented everyone in the waiting room Dave's son, a child with dark brown skin and nappy hair that no adult in either Dave's family or Hannah's had. In front of the wide-mouthed gasps of his parents, the new mother said, "Oops, sorry honey. You're probably mad, but I guess I might as well admit it now... I slipped up a few dozen times when I was fertile."

You should have been there to hear the way the family raged, including Dave himself. You'd think it was the end of the world, though to some in the family it was almost as bad, especially since a friendly nurse (and former Screaming Eagle Bitch) had read the writing on the wall and rushed Dave, the ostensible father, into signing the birth certificate before he saw the color of the baby's skin. A signed birth certificate mattered a lot in court even if paternity was disproven. Dave's hasty signature guaranteed the baby would carry his last name and almost guaranteed him a share of the family wealth or a lengthy court battle to prevent it. S'what he gets for not being in the delivery room, if you ask me. What is this, the nineteen-fifties?

In the middle of this storm of bad feelings, where she was being called a slut and a whore and far less polite things, Hannah calmly put a set of black lips to milk-swollen baby tits and said, "Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise it wasn't with a Predator. If I've got my timing right, it was probably with one of the guys on the Wildcats, maybe the quarterback... if this little guy looked Asian I'd have said chess club for sure. I mean, it still could be, there is that one black nerd in the club and I did fuck him an awful lot that week." Which prompted a renewed burst of outrage, because a black baby was bad enough, screwing someone from another school's team was even worse, but... he might be a chess club nerd's baby? The interracial bastard love child might not even be athletic!

To that, Hannah simply said, "Oh, come on, even if it's not quite what you wanted, you should be a good sport. If you need any tips on that, you can ask my sister." And smiled an icy smile that proved to everyone that this was planned, maybe for years, revenge for how Peyton, now a mother herself, got treated. Peyton really was a good sport about it all, now, but Hannah never forgot how bad her sister felt when Dave chose Hannah instead, and how Peyton regretted never achieving her dream to be a professional cheerleader. She didn't even get to cheer at college. The closest she got was a few months of the coveted varsity head cheerleader position before her own pregnancy put an end to her jumps and flips for good. That was when Hannah started fucking around exclusively with people of other races and without a condom. Dave learned this after shooing his family out, and asking, with a heartbroken face, why she did it. "Fair's fair, honey. You ruin my sister's dream, I ruin yours. Now your family name's a little bit muddy. Gotcha."

"Yeah, you got me all right, you cheating bitch," was the last thing Dave said before leaving the hospital to get drunk and contemplate how to explain it to his grandfather that not only is his second grandchild not white either, it's got his name. But the old man was in a nursing home because his memory was going anyway, and Dave wasn't dealing with anything lots of other Predators hadn't already, and he didn't want to be called racist by his former teammates for throwing out a black baby, so he eventually would come around to forgiving the girl, and being a good father, once the hurt died down. Personally, I think he shouldn't have been at all surprised. His wife was following the same rules he lived by, you gotta support your team, back them up when they need it, and put them before anyone else, and after all the times he watched his wife at her sister's pussy, he should have known better than anyone that Hannah had always been, and always would be, Team Peyton.

The End
“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom

Special thank to Danaume who provided a few ideas surrounding the ending.


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IonIan 18/02/05(Mon)10:52 No. 25341 ID: 30501b

You sir, are a legend. Many, many thanks for this story, and I cannot wait to read MM2. Glad to have you back!


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Anonymous 18/02/06(Tue)09:44 No. 25345 ID: 7f188a

As a lawyer, I've read international arbitration documents that were simpler and less convoluted than the explanation of why Peyton had to fuck the dog.


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Anonymous 18/02/09(Fri)22:33 No. 25350 ID: 57fd4b

great tribute as always. you really capture his style. please consider doing a rachael ross tribute, as well.. I think you'd be quite capable of emulating her unique style.


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Could Be Worse - A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC (M+f, Mg, Fg, Ff, fg, AnonyMPC 18/03/15(Thu)23:21 No. 25447 ID: a609fb

Sorry, Molestr sequel will be coming up next, but this was faster to edit. Another Phil Phantom story, not as strong as my last I think but it's done so I might as well post it.

Could Be Worse - A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC (M+f, Mg, Fg, Ff, fg, best, ws, inc, prost)

Anna was starting to get worried about her eldest daughter, but she couldn't discuss those worries with her husband with her youngest right there, not when those worries prominently included the little girl's big sister being potentially abducted or raped on the way home from a charity event. All she could say was, "Jerry, maybe it's time to send Cheryl to bed."

Jerry, as usual, seemed oblivious to any reasonable worries, at least with one daughter on his lap. "Dear, you know I promised her that she didn't have to go to sleep before her big sister did, and this family keeps our promises, no matter what. Right honey?"

"Right Daddy." The little ten-year-old nuzzled up her straight brown hair against him, renewing some worries about her too, worries Anna didn't give much credence to, except that when you're already worrying about one thing, it's easy to add another. But Jerry, in his patronizing way, had a point, she didn't want to set a bad example about promises, and so she nibbled her lip and looked back towards the driveway, hoping to see a car pulling up to drop off another little girl who was now gone almost ten hours.

Staring out the front window, it was dark enough that Anna could actually see what was going on behind her, in the reflection in the mirror, better than in front of her. And she couldn't help noticing the way her ten-year-old sitting on her father's lap while she watched YouTube videos on the family tablet was beginning to look sketchier and sketchier, and she'd was usually very skilled at not noticing. She very consciously did not notice how sketchy it started out looking, because monitoring their daughter's internet usage to make sure she wasn't watching anything inappropriate seemed like a good policy. And from there, once she'd decided not to notice, the changes had progressed so slowly she wasn't sure anything was happening at all. Even now, nothing was outright at the stage where she thought she had to intervene, for appearance's sake if nothing else, but that uncomfortable awareness she'd pushed away so often did make a fresh knot in her stomach just the same. Yes, it was definitely getting hard not to take notice of her youngest starting to straddle her father's knee when she thought Mom wasn't looking, or wiggle her butt on what would have been his hard cock if his daughter in his lap made Jerry hard. The motion wouldn't last long, and, if Anna turned around, she knew, it would almost certainly turn out to be part of an innocent change in positioning to get more comfortable. But what did they do when she left the room to go to the bathroom, she wondered.

She took a breath and tried to dismiss the thought again. Polly was the one to really worry about, she was just starting to obsess about Cheryl because she was right there while Anna was also plagued with vivid visions of Polly being kidnapped on the way home, dragged into a van, her clothes torn off as she cried, and then raped by multiple men, their cocks making a spermy mess of her virgin holes, probably giving her a rapist baby, maybe a biracial rapist baby that would one day come to rape grandma. That scenario might be wildly improbable... even the tamer parts probably more improbable than Cheryl being molested by her father, but mothers worry. And Cheryl was probably fine, unsupervised or not. Touching under her skirt, maybe at most... rubbing on the thigh or maybe over the panties was inappropriate, and Anna dreaded it getting blatant so she had to make a scene, but she was confident it wouldn't go much farther than that.

After all, she knew her husband... not in the way wives sometimes do where they say they know their husband wouldn't have sex with another woman, or a child, or their own daughter, but turns out they were wrong after it actually happens. Jerry was morally capable of all of that, she knew, all men probably were, even if not all acted on that capability. Perversion was everywhere, even among the most respectable, but Jerry also had something special holding him back... ironclad kinks that even after almost a decade and a half of marriage she couldn't make a dent in.

Before they tied the knot, when they in the early stages of dating in fact, she got a heads up on them from both of Jerry's ex-girlfriends, his sister, and even his mother. In fact, the first time Anna met her future mother-in-law, she warned her that he was pathologically shy of making the first move, and blamed it on molestation from an aggressive relative. She thought his mom was joking at first, since she made the revelation so casually and in his presence, and especially since Jerry had already kissed Anna without any prompting at all, but soon discovered it was true, merely more complex than his mom had explained. Kissing was one thing, and apparently didn't count as a first move, although she was usually the one to turn the kisses French. Nor did hand-holding or asking a girl to a movie or other early stages in a relationship... but as things started to get hot and heavy, Anna found that Jerry was a frustrating man to date, and the motherly advice that she'd initially dismissed had a lot of truth behind it.

If she hadn't figured that out, and more importantly, how to work around it, Cheryl and Polly might never have been born. The man... the boy, back then, had a serious complex, he simply could not expose himself unless someone else was completely naked first, and he could neither ask that of someone else, or do anything to encourage it except hinting in the most oblique, ass-backward ways. If Anna asked him if she should unbutton her shirt, all he would do is shrug like he couldn't care less whether her nipples were exposed or not. It took three dates of frustrating makeouts in his car before his sister took Anna aside and completed their mother's advice with the most important details. She calmly explained that Jerry wouldn't go under her shirt unless a girl pulled her top up first, that if she wanted to get fingered she needed to wear a skirt and no panties and show her wet pussy, and if she wanted a fuck, she either had to get completely naked and wait for him to get the hint and become the aggressor, or fish his dick out of his pants and "do whatever you want with it while he just lets it happen." While Anna stared open-mouthed and tongue-tied at the advice, his sister finished, "Or if that's too much trouble, just dump him... but please stop sending him home with blue balls. It's cruel."

It took some courage, and checking with his exes to make sure that really was what he needed, before she put those rules into practice, but, after all this time, those same conditions still applied every instance they made love. Jerry simply could not seem to shake whatever complex was set up in childhood, which was convenient in many ways... it might even have been part of the reason she eventually married him. With Jerry, she never felt she had to worry about him cheating on her, despite his young secretary, and whenever she wasn't in the mood she never had to deal with him pestering her with his needs. And that was important, because although Anna loved sex as much as the next woman, she had phases, but even worse, she always had trouble saying no to things.

In fact, the inability to say the N-word (no, not the other N-word) could be said to be a quirk almost as strong as Jerry's, though there was much more wiggle room. It didn't apply to her kids, of course, it's hard to be a good mother without being learning the use of that word, although even with them she was considered an easy touch, more comfortable shooting warning glares or making her displeasure known in other ways but slow to actually outright forbid something. And even when she wasn't saying the word directly to her kids, but it was something that just involved them, she rarely had a problem saying no in their defense. Sometimes something just didn't feel right, either blatantly offensive requests, or just an vague bad feeling, like when her sister-in-law would offer to take the kids somewhere, like a supposedly really fantastic Santa's Village or a fun secluded beach in a town a few hours away, supposedly to give Anna and Jerry some alone time. Such refusals were usually gentle, often with an excuse or a 'maybe another time', but she was capable of making a decision and refusing to budge from it.

Her problem saying no mostly became an issue when it just involved her, and in particular she had a lot of trouble refusing men interested in her directly, blatantly, and sexually. Such men could easily push her way past her comfort zone, particularly if they were persistent and she wasn't ready for a determined seduction attempt that wasn't put off by weary sighs, glares, and eyerolls. It was an even bigger problem in her teen years, which was why had seemed so refreshing to date a guy she knew wouldn't push so she wouldn't have to tell him no or, more likely, give in, even when she wasn't horny. It was a feeling of safety, and she needed that sometimes.

Anna's own peculiar meekness was almost certainly part of the reason she let the lap-sitting thing go on, despite how bad it looked... but it wasn't just that. With anyone else she was sure she would overcome it and play the good mother, certainly before legs got touched, but because it was Jerry, there was still enough of a feeling of safety that she couldn't bring herself to make a huge scene about it. Cheryl was safe with her father... if it were anyone else, this kind of rubbing could only lead to hard core sexual molestation, rape even, the moment they were left alone and maybe not even needing that, maybe just needing a mother willing to watch a rape with a glare. Deep down, Anna didn't know for sure if she would be that mother or not, if such a time ever came... from a stranger, sure, she was confident she could intervene, but from a lover or husband, someone she depended on? She couldn't say for sure. She might just be the kind of mom who pouted and glared as her daughter's hymen got pierced by a trusted male friend or relative who kept pushing on her comfort zones. Easier to say no in advance, before it got that far, better to keep her and her daughters out of such situations in the first place, as she had with every other dangerous man she knew so far. Draw the lines early, glare at them if they even look at one of her girls too long, and you discourage them, whether they have innocent intentions or not, and not have to verbally forbid one from sitting in a lap and very probably confuse a little girl who saw nothing wrong with it. That's what she'd had to do with uncles and grandpas and even what she'd have had to do if she was married to any other man... fathers can be molesters too, if you tempt them enough, even if her own hadn't been. With Jerry... well, Anna knew that unless Cheryl stopped wearing panties or was confident enough to grab her own father's dick it was harmless sensuality that verged a little on the side of inappropriate rubbing. Sure, Anna probably still should say no but she didn't have to.

At the rate they were going, Cheryl would be eighteen before either of those things happened, so all that was at risk was some sticky messes on their clothes. Still, that didn't stop the worries, growing watching them in the reflection, that maybe she was wrong, that Cheryl would find that boldness, or Jerry was getting better at manipulations to push her that way. It might soon be the time for a firm no.

No, Anna finally decided again, because using that word on herself wasn't a problem, unless she was really horny. No, until she saw anything outright sexual between father and daughter, freaking out was liable to make Cheryl, in a few years, confuse the sensual bonding she craved for the sexual she shouldn't have. She trusted in Jerry, or at least in his inability to move things along whether he wanted it or not, and trusted in Cheryl's innocence to not know how close things were to getting worse, or much better, depending on your perspective.

She'd grow out of it. Polly, their older daughter, went through the same stage, never progressed beyond it and now felt too old to sit on her father's lap or for long goodnight kisses with tongues and was, she learned, in possession of a full hymen and who swore nobody had ever seen her vagina other than other girls, not even Daddy, and, moreover, that she had only seen two real penises in her life... one her cousin while bathing during a babysitting gig, and the other a boy at school who got pantsed. Neither of them got anywhere near her, and so she had exactly zero experience that crossed the line between sensual and sexual.

At least before tonight, a part of Anna whispered as she looked out the window again.

"You worry too much," Jerry said, leaving her wondering which daughter she was being reassured about.

She responded as though it was Polly. "I just think she's out awful late."

"Yes, but it's a charity event. She's out there doing good, watched by respectable people. I mean..." he paused, and Anna winced in annoyance, knowing what was coming. "It could be worse. She could be out with friends, getting drunk, or high."

'It could be worse' was practically Jerry's catch phrase. Any time something bad happened, he might rage for a moment, but finally say, "It could be worse," or "It could have been worse." The habit was cute at first but after years of marriage it always set her teeth on edge whenever she heard it, especially when he used on things that were pretty damn awful already, which he did a lot. Even when she delicately tried to get him to talk about his molestation experience (she occasionally did get into moods where she wanted him to get past it and the complexes it created because she wanted to be dominated, and initiating sex every time got extremely boring), Jerry just said, "It's in the past. It could have been worse... could have been a male relative."

She still didn't know the details of who had done the deed, but strongly suspected either an extremely opinionated aunt or the very sister who warned her not to send him home with blue balls. Both still visited a few times a year, and it always set her on edge. It was weird that she was more worried about him cheating with his own relatives than with him being alone with a beautiful college dropout day in and day out.

Jerry's stock phrase especially annoyed her in the last few years because, with her own tendency towards being a pushover, she relied on him to be the 'heavy' to their children, the one who said no when she couldn't, who disciplined them, but his anger didn't last long enough to enforce any long term punishment like a grounding. Too often he'd decide whatever offense caused it 'could have been worse.' But even when it wasn't about the kids, or he said it privately after he administered a punishment, the phrase got under Anna's skin because when he said it, he was almost always right, at least technically right, and yet that knowledge didn't make it better. She wasn't sure if it would have been worse if he was molested by a male relative, but of course it was better that their daughter was late coming home from a charity event than being out doing god-knows-what with kids her own age. That didn't make the knot in her stomach any looser, and being constantly told that her feelings were invalid because it could be worse aggravated her.

Anna was just about to say something along those lines, when she saw what she'd been hoping for, the headlights of a dark van driving down the street and slowing in front of their house. A sigh of relief escaped her as the side door slid open, and she recognized the dirty blonde chin-length bob cut hairstyle that her eldest daughter Polly usually wore. After a moment's glance in both directions, the girl stepped out, seemingly safe and sound. "It's her," Anna said, then her eyes widened when she turned back and noticed what her daughter was wearing, and followed the girl as she stumbled towards the driver-side window, stood on her tiptoes, and gave what looked like a kiss to the driver and what looked like a moon to anyone outside who was focusing on her ass. Where did she get that outfit?


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Could Be Worse, ctd AnonyMPC 18/03/16(Fri)15:11 No. 25449 ID: a609fb

The thought didn't quite leave her mind, but it did get pushed aside for a moment at another discovery, as the young girl turned towards the house and took a few uncertain steps on the driveway, as unsteady on her feet as somebody who expected to be walking on ice, but if it was cold enough for ice then hypothermia would be more of a concern right now, as barely-dressed as the girl was. "Oh my god," Anna said, watching as her daughter almost tripped over nothing at all, bent over to catch herself, took another wobbly step, and stopped again, then looked around uncertainly as though she was uncertain it was the right house at all. Anna rushed towards the door. "I think she's drunk, Jerry."

That got her husband to look up from his youngest daughter's legs, and stopped their game, although the way he stopped it looked like a promise of continuation. His hands grabbed Cheryl's pantied crotch, pulled upward with a firm squeeze, almost lifting her by her pussy and, if not sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into her hole, along with the stretchy cotton that just prevented them going deep enough to deflower her, at least giving her a serious enough dent to get her thinking about, maybe even desiring, actual penetration. That, Anna knew she'd have to say no to, but for now, a glare would have to do. Both ignored it... Cheryl whimpered but slid off of him as he stood up with an erection-tent visible enough that it would have gotten him banned from school events if they weren't at home. But by his demeanor, nothing unusual was happening. "It's a charity event, of course there was going to be alcohol. I bet she snuck a few sips for herself out of curiosity. But, see, there you go, it could be worse." Anna flinched. "At least someone dropped her off in our driveway. She could have tried to drive home drunk." That was more of a joke than anything else... sure, her driving home would certainly have been worse, but that was because Polly was not just too drunk to drive home safely but too young by several years to do so with a license at all. Her driving home drunk would have involved a preteen in a stolen car. In other circumstances, she might have laughed, but she was genuinely worried about their daughter.

Not just for the alcohol, either. When they let Polly go to this charity event, she was dressed like a kid, asexual jeans, a long rose-colored blouse, running shoes. None of that was in evidence now, nor was anything she could carry her old clothes in. Instead, all she wore was a dress that was practically obscene, and where 'practically' disappeared entirely the moment she bent over.

It resembled the classic French maid outfit, redesigned for a world where sexual harassment wasn't even given lip service and pedophiles did the hiring. Black, with white accents and trim, in two main pieces, a skirt with a mini-apron on the front, coming down to less than an inch below the crotch, and not covering it at all if it rode up, and a very skimpy crop top so short it practically looked very small sleeves attached to a strip of fabric between belly and breast, and a neckline plunging so far you could see her nipples just poking out over the top. If that didn't scream "preteen whore rape bait" enough, the look was accentuated with a collar, black with white lace frill, and dark stockings that coming up to just above the knee, which wouldn't have raised eyebrows on an adult, even with the high heels, but on a child seemed like was appealing to fetishes of perverted old rich men who liked young stuff.

When the door opened, Polly was standing, so Jerry didn't realize quite how obscene the dress got, or that there was no underwear underneath, but Anna thought surely he could see the pale nipples poking out over her neckline, and expected him to be livid, or at least act that way.

"Oh hi!" Polly said with a bright smile. "Glad you guys are still up. I was worried I'd have to wake you." She slurred her words, and she had a dazed look to her in her eyes, but at least she didn't look like she was about to throw up, which Anna knew Jerry would point out given half a chance.

"Jerry, get her some water." Then, since she didn't feel like she could trust him to do his appointed job of being the disciplinarian of the family, Anna steeled herself to play angry mom. It came out more like disappointed mom. "Young lady, we were worried sick. You should have been home hours ago!"

Polly wobbled in, her high heels drawing new attention to themselves with their clacking on the floor with every step. "Hey, don't blame me. You signed me up for the charity thing, and told me to do my best." When she reached the couch, she turned backwards and just fell into it beside her sister. Whether it was from her drunkenness or new experiences, she no longer sat legs together, like Anna had taken pains to teach her, trying to undo the habits she developed sitting on Daddy's lap. Instead, Polly's knees were spread as far as they could go. Her maid skirt still preserved her modesty but only barely and thanks to gravity making the hem settle between her spread legs. Her nipples actually slipped back under her neckline, which was some comfort. "Did you expect me to walk back from The Swamp on my own?"

"The Swamp?" Anna repeated. It was a seedy biker strip joint on the outskirts of town, a place with a bad reputation in a bad neighborhood. Anna had been there, worked there, technically, in search of a little wild adventure and to reconvince herself of her desirability after two children. She knew very well how bad the neighborhood was, long stretches of lonely road without working streetlights, frequented by drunks and lowlifes. Of course she didn't want her daughter walking back from that... but she didn't want her there in the first place. "What were you doing at the Swamp?!"

"The charity thing! Come on, you had to know where it was! It said so right on the flyer!"

"I'm sure it did not. Jerry, go find that flyer." He had only just returned with a large glass of water in his hand, gave it to his daughter and shot a look to her mother, but moved behind the couch and began searching among the papers there for the particular one that they had used to sign up their daughter for this night, thinking it was character building. "I would not have let you go to a seedy biker joint." Probably.

"Don't worry, Mom," Polly said. "There weren't any bikers there. Well, maybe a few mighta been bikers, but they were all wearing suits and donating money. The charity people just rented out the whole place." She took a big gulp of the water and sighed in relief. "Man, finally that helps get the taste out." Taste of what? Mom wondered. She hoped it was just alcohol, but that didn't seem likely from the Swamp, and a list of other, darker options started to run through her head.

"It is a nice venue for these types of things," Jerry said, still searching. "I was there for a conference of local business owners once. I promise you, it cleans up very nicely and meets all the fire codes. Honestly, there are much worse places it could have been held."

"Yeah," Polly said. "It was totally respectable-looking."

"You're not dressed very respectably."

"It was the uniform, Mom. All the girls wore it. You volunteered us as servers, remember? What did you think we wouldn't get a uniform?" No, she expected a uniform, but she expected perhaps a dress shirt and black pants. Maybe, if they were going for a theme, something like those old 50s diner waitresses. Even with short skirts she might not have raised an eyebrow at that, since at least it was cute. But slutty French maids was not a theme appropriate for preteens and young teens.

"Found it!" her father announced, holding up the flyer that got them all into this mess. He peered at it for a moment, then said, "Huh, I guess it did say it was at 'The Swamp' all along. I just misread it. Well, it could be worse, at least it was for a charity event."

"Uh-huh," Polly said. "And you'd be real proud of me. I'll have you know I won the prize!" There was something, Anna remembered, about a chance to win a free iPhone for the girl who raised the most money for charity.

"Where is it?" her little sister Cheryl asked. The outfit Polly wore didn't seem to have pockets, and so the only places she could be carrying it would probably void any warranty.

"We're supposed to go pick it up in a few days and sign a release form. We can pick up my old jeans and stuff too, I left them there."

"You should have worn them home. I can't believe you came home in... this." She waved her hand over her daughter's tarted-up body.

The girl pouted. "Mom, can't you just be happy that I raised more money than any other girl!"

"I had faith in you," Jerry said as he beamed, never one to pass up the chance to ingratiate himself to one of his daughters at her expense. "That's my girl!"

Anna was growing more and more suspicious, though. Something about this didn't smell right. Well, something besides the smell of alcohol coming off her daughter's breath, or the musky sexual scent that oozed out of other parts of her body and was starting to extend to the rest of the room. Jerry had to notice that... maybe Cheryl didn't know what it signified, but the adults should have.

The youngest girl was catching onto something though, and maybe she followed her nose to the discovery or maybe it was accidental, but Cheryl sat back on the floor in a position that let her peek under the skirt and then here mouth gaped open. "Holy shi...nolie, you're not wearing any panties, Polly!"

"Really?" Her father practically raced around the other side of the couch, dropping the flyer on the end table on his way, then crouched down beside Cheryl. The ten-year-old had scooted up for a better look herself, and now father and daughter crouched at the foot of the couch each holding a leg and helping spread it wider so they could both get a really close look, while Polly pulled up the skirt having apparently gotten over any shyness she might have had. The puffy pussy also looked like it had a wider, more sloppy mouth than it did when Anna did a virginity check, and though there was no phone up there, it was wide enough that there would be no hiding it.

"They gave you a uniform with no underwear? And you wore it like that?" Cheryl asked, wide-eyed. "That is so cool."

"No," Polly explained. "They let us wear our own underwear. At first. But they asked me to sell them for charity. You'd be surprised what people will pay for a pair of soaked underwear!"

"Why were they soaked?" Cheryl asked, and then grinned. "Did you pee your panties?"

"No, of course not! I just get really wet when I get turned on." To make it clearer, which she didn't have to do except maybe to her sister, or out of milking out the scene out of pride in her new discovery, she added, "Sexually."

Her little sister did indeed seem impressed by the clarification, and wanted to know, "Who turned you on?"

"At first, it wasn't a who, but they wanted us to help with the charity, and they had a machine they called the Swamp Hog."

"Oh no," Anna said, forgetting herself. She'd have preferred her family have no idea how well-acquainted she was with what went on at the Swamp, but... she remembered the Swamp Hog very well. It was a motorcycle, or at least the body of one, no wheels and a custom built seat that wasn't cushioned, in a prominent position on stage at one end of the club. When gassed up it was all vibration and noise and no motion, though it was rigged up so you had to hold onto the handlebars for it to work, and the way the seat was positioned that meant the vibration was concentrated right up against a girl's pussy.

The Swamp had a rule, every first time dancer had to ride the Swamp Hog wearing nothing more than a thong (they could go naked if they chose, of course) for either five minutes or through three orgasms, while men threw money to keep it going, all tips going to the house for the first ride. The stated theory was it weeded out the bashful and broke down inhibitions among the new girls. Once you've cum in front of a crowd, it's hard to be nervous about sensuously dancing around a pole and taking your clothes off. The real reason, she learned much later, was they hoped to get girls horny enough that they'd be more willing to do private dances and get fucked in those private dances on their first night. Once they've done THAT once, they're more likely to do it on subsequent occasions.

In Anna's case, the Swamp Hog achieved both of their aims. What did it get her daughter to do?

Polly didn't know anyone else knew what it was, because she explained, "Oh yeah. It's like one of those coin operated motorcycles at the mall, only this one shakes so good you lose your mind. They had this idea for the charity, each one of us got sponsors who pledged ten dollars for every minute we could ride on it without crying out or letting go."

"And you rode the longest?" Cheryl guessed.

"Oh no. I came last. I barely lasted a minute before my grip slipped... I just couldn't hold on anymore. I really really wanted another try... for charity... but they wouldn't let me. Rachel won with three minutes and she had six different sponsors. I only had two, so I was way behind. But I made it up, cause... well, most of us got wet panties out of riding the Swamp Hog, but mine got, like, really wet. Maybe it was just cause I was last and the others had some time to dry, but the emcee noticed and pointed it out to the crowd and suddenly there were offers to buy it off me. It got up to fifty dollars, can you believe it? So I sold it but only if the money went to the charity because I thought that's what you would have wanted me to do. You should have seen how everyone cheered when I bent down to pull it off, and the guy who bought it..." she started giggling, and continued, "he popped it in his mouth, sucked on it, and said it was juicy and delicious and worth every penny."

"You buy them for what, two for twenty dollars, honey?" Jerry asked, looking back up at her, ignoring her glare. "That means he bought forty dollars worth of juice. That must be one magic pussy." He turned back to stare at his daughter's hole again with unfatherly interest.


>>
Anonymous 18/03/16(Fri)18:54 No. 25450 ID: 93166e

>>25447
Don't be sorry.At least we know you're working on it


>>
Could Be Worse, ctd AnonyMPC 18/03/17(Sat)13:52 No. 25452 ID: a609fb

"I don't like this," Anna said, sensing what could happen now that rules were shifting, even with Jerry's complex. "I don't like this at all." Yet, arousing memories of her own past misbehavior began flooding back, and old fantasies she never intended to see in action starting to become more and more plausible... all that did get her heart rate up and an excited electricity running under her skin, especially focused on her pussy. Which was also beginning to get wet... she and her daughter had that in common. "First she comes home drunk..."

"I know what you're thinking," Polly said. "And I'm sorry, but that really wasn't my idea. The bar was part of the charity. Every drink a guy bought for us added to our charity total, but we had to drink it for it to count. And some of the people who bid on my panties wanted me to get my juices on their handkerchiefs, and I thought it was only fair that they buy me a charity drink for the chance to do that."

"See?" Anna said. "These men get her drunk, they get her pussy drooling..." 'What else do you think they've done?' went unsaid.

"I'm sure it wasn't deliberate. It's not like our daughter's a slut, she just had a natural bodily reaction to vibration and stimulation. Would you rather she be dry when she was turned on?" Jerry asked. "I mean come on." And he stared back into his daughter's pussy, noticing that it did look pretty wet, and calmly inserted two fingers inside. Now that Polly wore nothing over them and her skirt was pulled up, Jerry's peculiar inhibitions didn't protect her anymore. Doing anything to move clothes out of the way may have been fundamentally inappropriate in his mind, but they were no longer in the way, and that left him free to explore. "Yup, her story checks out, she's very wet!" The fingers sank all the way in to the last knuckles, came back out glistening wet, and then went back in.

Most impressively, and worryingly, everyone could see there was no resistance to that intrusion. Polly herself tensed just for a moment at the penetration, but then relaxed and let it happen as a milky froth started spilling out around her father's fingers and no sign of blood from a hymen that must have been absent by now. "Oh, wow, Daddy. You probably shouldn't be finger-fucking me like this, though, no matter how good it feels." Other than those words, far more vulgar than her daughter would usually get with her parents, the girl didn't make a move to stop it. Neither did anybody else, fascinated by the father-daughter molestation going on. "No, seriously, Daddy," she finally said after what felt like another full another minute of silent finger fucking while her father shifted position and tugged at his pants. Not to pull them off, he still couldn't make that leap, there were people in the room who weren't fully naked, but he needed to adjust the bulge. Not realizing that, Polly went on needlessly, "You can't have sex with me. I mean, I don't want to hurt your feelings, it's not because I don't want it. I've dreamed of it for years. But I can't let it happen. And I'm afraid if you keep doing that with your finger, especially when I've been drinking, I might let you fuck me anyway, which would be really bad cause you might get me pregnant and I can't let you get me pregnant." It could be worse, ran through Anna's mind again. At least she wasn't that far gone. Her husband seemed to be, because he didn't stop, fascinated by the way his finger slid into his daughter, the way it squeezed around him despite what she said. "Mom, a little help?"

"Just put some damn panties on," Anna snapped. "They're like a magic stop sign for your father. If you'd kept them on in the first place, he never would have gotten so bold with your pussy." Anna realized too late she was giving a crucial piece of the puzzle away to another daughter who seemed to have less wits about her despite being less distracted.

Indeed, she saw Cheryl's eyes widen as she looked back, making the connection. The little girl stood briefly, just long enough to pull her underwear down beneath her skirt, remove them, and then got on her knees again. "Here, you can use mine." Anna wasn't sure if she was making the offer of panties to her sister or pussy to her daddy.

One offer wasn't accepted. Or, perhaps, both were half-accepted. Polly took the panties from her sister, but let them drop to the couch over the temporarily forgotten tablet, still paused on some video with a cartoon character in an expression of shock, and when Cheryl bent over and wiggled her uncovered ass in her father's face, he took his other hand and rubbed those fingers across her slit, threatening to remove Cheryl's hymen as soon as he got up the nerve to fully penetrate.

He didn't stop the slow saw into Polly's sloppy cunt either, which meant Anna was watching her husband's fingers molest both of her daughters at once. At least they didn't know they had to get all the way naked, or take their father's cock out themselves, for him to actually fuck them, Anna thought. So it could be worse. Damn it, now he's got me doing it. And I really should tell him to stop.

"Hey, I'm not a monster here," Jerry said as he continued the two-handed molestation while Anna just stood there trying to say no. "I'm not having sex with either of you. You'd have to get naked to have sex, and I'm not planning on doing that." That was a hint, Anna knew, the most blatant he was capable of, but it didn't seem like the girls picked up on it, so he was shit out of luck. "All I'm doing is checking on your vaginal function, but if you really want me take my finger out, Polly, I will."

"No," the girl said, relaxing with her father's reassurance. "Check all you want. Though I am a bit tender so I'd appreciate it a lot more if you'd check with a tongue and soft kisses instead."

"It does deserve a lot of kisses if you earned the most for charity by soaking your panties and handkerchiefs." He pulled his fingers out then leaned forward and placed a kiss on each side of the slit. That was definitely out of bounds, and Anna resolved to say something if it didn't stop soon.

"You can use fingers on me Daddy," suggested Cheryl. "I'm not tender at all."

"You will be if he starts," Polly warned.

Finally, Anna felt able to speak, but not to say no, only to point out, "Clearly Polly must have done a lot more than sell her panties. Or did you not notice the lack of blood?"

"Blood?" Cheryl yelped, flinching a moment from her father's touch, but the pleasure of the rubbing was enough that after that instinctive reaction she very consciously pressed back into his fingers. Still, she wanted to know, "Why would there be blood?"

Polly leaned forward, and spread her puffy vulva, revealing a pink hole, and explained to her little sister like an expert, "It bleeds the first time something goes in. It doesn't hurt much, or for long. Especially if you get an orgasm out of it."

Cheryl squeezed her own puffy lips around her father's finger, not yet inserted but just wiggling lengthwise. "I'd love an orgasm but I don't want any blood."

"He could stick it in your butt. You can still orgasm that way, it just takes longer, and no blood."

Not always true, Anna knew, but as she watched her younger daughter spread her butt at her big sister's suggestion, and her husband looking between each of them offering a spread hole, she was thankful he was only contemplating his fingers. So yes, it could be worse. She didn't have to say no just yet. A good ass fingering wasn't going to hurt Cheryl, and as for Polly... well, even if she'd lost her virginity and gotten used to cock, and she might be a little bit drunk, but at least she was appropriately concerned about getting pregnant. There was some hope for her at least, but Anna still craved to know everything that happened at the charity event, and she sensed that her daughter wanted to brag about an intense and outrageous experience. Which also could be worse... the girl could clam up and decide never to tell a soul, let it be a dirty private memory. From personal experience, all it might take was a few hours and a sober mind to change from one mindset to the other.

So, she made a decision, and knew most people would think it was the wrong decision for any mother but the logic of it seemed to make sense to her in that moment. Anna decided she'd make her daughter comfortable enough to tell the story, then, tomorrow, rain holy hell down on this so-called charity, lay down the law with Jerry (yelling at him afterwards was always easier than forbidding in the moment), and maybe come up with an appropriate punishment for her daughter. And, if she were to be honest with herself, enjoy a couple orgasms to the thought of whatever intense sexual awakening her daughter had experienced, the kind she only dreamed about. Maybe she'd get those orgasms by helping her husband with the blue balls that should inevitably result from this night, maybe by masturbating to the mental pictures in bed after he went to sleep. Probably both, if she were to be honest with herself. And maybe in the shower for the next few weeks.

Anna's own sexual awakening, with an older married neighbor who took a lot of liberties she couldn't bring herself to say no to, now seemed practically tame by comparison. After the first few exciting times he got soft... not his dick, but his heart, instead of boldly ordering her to do things that would have gotten him arrested if she decided to tell anyone, which was bizarre and scary and thrilling, he mostly treated her like a illicit fourteen-year-old lover... which was nice, she supposed. That lasted until he was arrested... for embezzling from his company, nothing to do with her, she kept the secret. She didn't miss him, much, by the time he went to jail she realized that she didn't want him as a romantic lover, and wasn't quite getting what she did want. Back then, she couldn't articulate what that was (she had the vague notion that it involved someone, maybe her father, walking in on her naked and giving a blow job and joining in without asking for permission). Now she had a sense that Polly might have experienced something very similar to her ideal and... well, she'd hardly be the first mother to want to live vicariously through her daughter's experiences.

"Now, now," Jerry said. He sucked his youngest daughter's pussy juices off his finger and once it was slicker with saliva, began to press gently on Cheryl's ten-year-old asshole. Everyone watched it slide slowly but steadily deeper, calmly except the one getting penetrated, and she was at least trying her best to pretend it wasn't a big deal while her father continued, "You don't know she did anything inappropriate at the charity. Girls can lose their hymen in all sorts of ways."

"Nothing inappropriate?" Anna's exasperation at Jerry was making it hard to play cool and let Polly tell her story at her own pace. "Riding a vibrator toy, having an orgasm in front of a crowd, and selling her panties and handkerchief rubs against her pussy doesn't count as inappropriate?"

"It was just for charity, honey. People do all sorts of stuff for charity. Remember back when we were in school we had that slave-for-a-day auction?" To even suggest that was innocent proved that he still didn't know what happened back then, as a one-day slave of the school's resident bad boy. Then again, not many did, except for some of his friends, and the auto shop teacher, since a lot of it took place in his class.

Fuck it, she decided. It was more than a decade ago, and maybe being open would keep Polly in the same spirit. "You know I came out of that with a load in my pussy and worrying how I'd explain being pregnant to my boyfriend when we hadn't even done it yet." And her first lesbian experience with one of the few girls in the class, but the pregnancy scare was more important considering the boyfriend in question was Jerry. This was before his sister had explained about his little problem, and she was terrified he wouldn't understand that she had to because she was slave-for-a-day, but luckily the pregnancy didn't wind up happening and Jerry either hadn't heard or had dismissed all the rumors. But she couldn't afford to allow him a head-in-the-sand approach any longer. "There's no way she won the prize just by selling her panties and accepting a few drinks. I mean, do the math."

"I hate math," Cheryl said, even though she seemed be doing so well with a single digit.

Anna ignored her. "But go on, if you think our daughter's missing hymen is so innocent, give it another kiss. She's dressed like a French maid, so you might as well make it a French kiss..." At his widened eyes, she added a cruel smirk, and finished, "But don't say I didn't warn you if you get some sperm swimming their way down your tongue."

The girls had both been watching this little discussion, mostly without talking aside from Cheryl's most recent outburst, their eyes going back and forth like it was a tennis match. Jerry made a face at Anna's last serve, looked with disgust at the fingers he'd had inside his eldest, and she knew she'd scored a point. It was another of Jerry's little idiosyncrasies, probably not that uncommon... he just hated the thought of drinking cum, or touching a cum-filled pussy. What was weird is that it didn't seem to stem from jealousy... they'd once discussed a threesome trade to spice up their marriage, one time with two girls and, to be fair, one time with two guys, and he was all for that suggestion, but he insisted in the latter case that he had to finish first. Her second pregnancy put a pin in that idea, and they never got back to it.

Polly lay back with a waiting look, like she wasn't going to volunteer anything, though with a blush on her face that suggested she was afraid they were going to ask. Jerry did ask, but not the right daughter. "Cheryl, would you do me a favor and stick your tongue up your sister's pussy and tell me if it tastes like cum?"

The finger deep in her asshole guided her, shuffling around on her knees, to the position where that was easiest, and also put the girl into a compliant mood, because she said, "Okay," and pressed her lips up against her sister's hole like it was second nature. After a good twenty seconds of sucking, during which Anna got to watch Jerry's smug face at having won a point and they both got to enjoy their Polly's gasps of surprised pleasure, the younger girl pulled away and asked, "What does cum in a pussy taste like?"

"Like you just tasted," Polly said, then up to her parents. "You could have just asked me. I wasn't going to lie. Ah!" The last was another surprised gasp as Cheryl, who must have decided she liked the taste, dove back in for more. Polly got used to the sensation enough that she could talk while it was going on, and looked back up into the eyes of her parents. "I just really wanted to win the prize for earning the most for charity."


>>
Could Be Worse, ctd AnonyMPC 18/03/17(Sat)20:52 No. 25453 ID: a609fb

Jerry wiped his fingers on his pants furiously, trying to get any trace of cum off, then took a big sip of his daughter's water just in case he tasted any with his kiss and spit it back out again... a little funny, from Anna's perspective, because he didn't have a problem until it was brought up, and it wasn't the first time he'd touched or tasted it without realizing it. "I suppose we can take some comfort in the fact that it was for a good cause, instead of just giving in to sinful urges."

Polly went on, "And really, I thought you wanted me to do it, or at least knew about it and were okay with it. I mean, they showed me the flyer and the form you signed."

Anna didn't have the form, that rested with whoever ran the charity, claimed when they picked Polly up. She didn't even remember it much other than thinking that it was a lot less paranoid than the summer camp her cousin kept suggesting for Polly and Cheryl. That, too, was for charity and completely free, but she was warned that there was a lot of last minute paperwork and she should just sign them all quickly, though because summer was still a ways away, the initial application forms were still in a drawer. With tonight's events, and only a few days between getting the opportunity and having to sign the forms, she had followed the same advice, giving it only a courtesy skim... nothing seemed out of place, but they were all couched in legalese. They didn't leave her a copy and so she couldn't go over it again and look at what she may have accidentally agreed to.

The flyer, though, was right where Jerry left it on the table, and now Anna picked it up and looked at it with the kind of fresher, less innocent eyes you get (or get again, having suppressed for years) after seeing your youngest daughter trying her damndest to suck all the cum out of her big sister while her daddy fingers her butthole.

The first few words should have been a warning sign alone: "We Want Your Kids (Girls Ages 11-16)" and everything else got worse if you knew a few things and were reading it with a dirty mind. It really was all there:


"We Want Your Kids (Girls Ages 11-16)
to serve us at our
Charity Ball-Drain
The Swamp
- GALA EVENT, CHARITY 9-HOLES, AUCTION"

Now that she knew "The Swamp" referred to the location, "Drain The Swamp" obviously wasn't the theme of the charity ball with some odd formatting. Instead, the theme of the night was clearly laid out. It was a "Charity Ball-Drain." And clearly, at least one drained their balls in little Polly. Probably more.

Underneath, in a smaller font, it provided a list that had seemed a lot more compelling at the time:

"We Will Provide:
Transportation (We'll Take Them Both Ways)
A Full Belly
Fun Uniform They Can Keep
Stimulating Environment
First Hand Job Experience
Opportunities to work under powerful men and women
iPhone to the Girl Who Earns the Most for Charity
Memories That Will Last a Lifetime"

"So this was a Charity Ball-Drain all along," Anna said aloud. "And they tricked you into thinking we wanted this for you."

"I don't know, honestly I kinda didn't think you did but I guess I kinda hoped?"

"You have to admit, they were pretty clever," Jerry said.

"Yes, evil perverts can be very clever. That doesn't mean they're not evil."

Cheryl drew her mouth away from her sister. "I want to hear what happened. At least how she got cum in her cunt."

The C-word was testing her boundaries, a little girl deciding that, since her father was fingering her ass and she was performing oral sex on her sister, maybe she could say 'cunt.' Anna knew if she didn't correct her, it would be used to exhaustion. Yet she couldn't bring herself to, especially because she wanted to hear from Polly too. So she just shot her eldest a questioning look.

She beamed and began telling the story. "Well, after we had a few drinks, they took us to the 9-Holes."

That was another piece of the puzzle, and another piece of the Swamp's dubious reputation. The 9-Holes were physical holes punched into the wall separating the girl's bathroom and a hallway to the back exit. The hallway was used by customers who needed to take a break from the drinking, maybe to throw up or piss or have a smoke, the first not allowed indoors by the owner's rules, the last by county by-laws. The middle, that was okay as long as it was in a proper place, but nobody liked using the men's bathroom which was a constant mess. The girl's bathroom, on the other hand, was mostly clean, and mostly used by strippers and waitresses, and nobody in either of those groups could afford to be offended if one of those customers, or one of the male managers, maybe even the big boss, stuck their hard dick through one of the holes and asked for a little relief of one sort or another, or if they threatened to pee on anyone who didn't swallow it down, for the girls cleaned their own bathroom. It started with just one hole, supposedly accidental, and the shenanigans around it a running joke that got so popular more holes were added.

Before long there were nine holes and it was a full-fledged Swamp attraction, and access to the hallway charged for, a charge grumbled at when it started but still paid willingly by anyone who wanted a blowjob, or something else. Nothing guaranteed, the fee was too small for that, but they could negotiate terms with whoever was on the other side of the hole, which made some good supplemental income for dancers or waitresses, and some men gambled on being able to talk a girl into providing mercy without any additional payment for a customer worked up by a sexy dance. And sometimes people still brazened through for some free play to avoid the threat of a spray of urine or a firing, since many of the regulars had developed a good imitation of the owner's distinctive southern voice and this was all done with the men able to maintain their anonymity behind the wall. The women, not so much, hard to stay anonymous there, as customers could easily keep track of who went into the washroom and, for that matter, could always peek at the girls through the holes, or slip the bartender a few bucks to peek at the feed from the cameras that were, very early on, positioned in the bathroom ceiling, in defiance of every rule for bathrooms Anna knew about. The cops never enforced that by-law, probably because some of them were among the people who enjoyed using it or buying a copy of a particularly good video after the fact. 9-Holes glory hole videos sold pretty well, though few sold to anyone outside of the user of the hole in question... men just got a kick of a woman worshiping their dick without knowing who it belonged to, and sometimes you just want a momento of an experience you could never manage without anonymity... especially for those regulars who had daughters who worked there. Spilling the beans mid-fuck with a fatherly term of endearment made for a good video that sometimes sold well to outsiders, but most men preferred the women never to know for sure. Though the bar was in a bad neighborhood, it got respectable visitors slumming, and events like the Chamber of Commerce meeting, men who had something to lose if a whore knew who they were with. The most long-running joke was that married men visiting the Swamp could just say they were enjoying "9-Holes" and leave the wife to assume it was golf, when really they were getting their rocks off at a glory hole.

Anna was probably one of the few wives who had been on the other side of that wall that could be confident that if her husband said he just came back from doing 9-Holes he meant golf. And now she may be one of the few women who'd served at the same hole as her own daughter. She thought she had at least a few years before that became a possibility... she'd certainly never heard of them doing anything with girls Polly's age before. Sure, when she had her own adventure there, they had at least two strippers who were rumored to be under age fifteen, but she never saw any proof and those girls were at least well into a generous puberty, so at the time she dismissed them as merely salacious rumors... but after what she'd heard about tonight's activities, it no longer surprised her. Or, to her surprise, bothered her that much. There was no blinding fury as she would have expected from such a discovery... she was annoyed at them taking advantage of her daughter in particular, but she still felt composed enough to note, with a touch of dry humor, "I suppose this is where they gave you the first hand job experience they promised in their flyer. I wondered about that."

Jerry took another opportunity to score points in front of their daughters. "Anna! I'm shocked. Shocked that you knew about this in advance."

She threw him a withering glare. Now THAT made her mad. How dare he try to make her out as the bad guy while he was giving their ten-year-old daughter an anal fingerbang? And the fact that she clearly enjoyed it so much was going to make her more likely to believe him, too. Still, she had to set the record straight. "Don't be stupid, Jerry. I noticed they put the space in the middle of firsthand, but I assumed it was just a typo. Obviously if they promised first blowjob experience I'd have been a little more hesitant sending my daughter with them." Ideally that should be had at home, an intrusive thought whispered.

It was like Cheryl read her mind. She pulled her mouth free of Polly's pussy. She whined, punctuated by breaths as her father's fingers brought her closer to an anal orgasm, "Daddy, can you give me my first blowjob experience?"

"No honey," he said. "My pants are still on and it would be inappropriate for me to take them off, and I wouldn't want to do anything inappropriate." That was about as close as he would come to begging someone to take his cock out so that he could consider himself blameless, just swept up in a perverted situation rather than being perverted himself. It was a weird distinction, especially as he bent down and took a very inappropriate look at just below where his finger was inappropriately pumping his youngest daughter's asshole, then took an even more inappropriate lick on her pussy which got Cheryl writhing and craving her father's cock even more.

"Besides, you already had your first blowjob experience. Many."

Everyone stopped at Polly's words. Jerry looked up at his youngest and even his finger slowed enough for Cheryl to get angry. "Tattletale," she snapped. "That's it, I'm not sucking your cunt anymore." Instead, she looked back at her parents, and explained, "Anyway, it's not really a blowjob unless there's cum, everyone knows that, and Tommy can't cum yet."

Tommy was their cousin on Anna's side, the same age as Cheryl, and Anna knew that while her daughter said she saw her cousin's penis once, she neglected to mention that Cheryl was sucking it at the time. "She's right, Polly, it's a totally different experience," Jerry said, went back to fingering. "And Cheryl, don't be mean to your sister, she didn't mean to tattle, it's all that alcohol. Go back to sucking all that nasty cum out of her cunt." She did, and Jerry shot an apologetic look at his wife.


>>
Could Be Worse, ctd AnonyMPC 18/03/18(Sun)14:34 No. 25455 ID: a609fb

For a moment it looked like he was about to speak again, but she cut him off. "I know," she said. "It could be worse. Except it is, with Polly, isn't it? How many blowjobs, with cum, did you have at the 9-Holes?"

She smiled brightly, whether at the resumed cunt-sucking or the knowledge that she was getting away with being completely honest and with no sign of the punishment she must have been dreading when she first came home... indeed, she seemed to be getting rewarded for her slutty adventure. "Honestly, I lost count. And that wasn't where I got my first hand job experience either, that was before, with one of the guys who bought me a drink. It only seemed fair, and he was excited about getting his juices and mine on the same napkin. But at the 9-Holes, they said they'd donate fifty dollars in our name for every cock or pussy we drain."

"Wait a second, pussy?" Anna asked.

"Yeah, some women shoved their pussies up into the holes too. Not many, but a few."

"How exactly do you drain a pussy?" Cheryl asked, looking at her sister's which still seemed gooey despite her best efforts. "Do they squirt too?"

"No," Polly said, and Anna made a note that she'd have to correct her later. If her daughter must be a bisexual slut, she should at least be a well-informed one. "But they do pee."

"You drank pee?!" At least some things were capable of scandalizing the ten-year-old girl who'd already sucked cock, albeit preteen cousin cock.

"I guess the bladder's a kind of ball, so draining it counted. Guys did it too."

"Tommy peed in my mouth once, I didn't like it." Cheryl frowned at the memory. "I thought he was cumming."

"Yeah, cum is better. Pee's faster though, at least for guys. I mean, the women, they usually needed to be licked a while before they let fly, and it gets all over your face and you taste it more. I liked it with guys much more."

Jerry turned to his wife and said, "Hey, at least we know she's not a lesbian."

Polly went on, "At least with a guy, they usually want to cum or pee but not both and if they pee, you just keep swallowing, and boom, fifty more bucks for charity and can move on to the next. But after a few, I didn't really think I could swallow any more, and that's when I heard Jill squealing in joy. She wasn't using her mouth and I also noticed the lube dispenser by the holes and, well, she seemed to be going through guys a lot faster and having a lot more fun, so I thought, what the hell. I let a few fuck my ass, and some piss in my ass too, and wow that was really good when you rubbed your clit at the same time." Cheryl took the advice and started rubbing her own clit and probably trying to imagine the finger in her ass was a cock, maybe Tommy's tiny cock since it couldn't cum, but it could still feel good. "I'd tell you what happened next, but I actually do really need to pee now myself."

"Help your sister out, Cheryl. I want to hear the rest of this, and it's better than her going all over the couch." Anna couldn't believe she just said that. But she had... okay, she had her weird kinks too, and one of them was pee-play... not receiving, so much, though her neighbor did that to her, and the shop class slave-for-a-day incident she did that for one of the butch girls in the class at her master's direction, and Anna wouldn't deny being used as a human urinal had occasional appeal, sure... but what she really always wanted was the other way, someone who'd drink from her whenever she felt the need. Jerry was too much of a squeamish pussy to do that, and even though Anna now had one daughter with experience in that, wouldn't two be better?

"How?" Cheryl asked, but her sister was already pointing.

"Just suck right there and get ready to swallow."

Anna knelt down to watch... she'd been standing almost rock still since picking up the flyer, and movement revealed just how weak and unsteady her legs are, and how hot her pussy was. She was the only one in the room who hadn't done anything sexual yet, aside from squeezes of her pussy muscles, but bending down and watching her ten-year-old drink pee from her older sister, she had to, taking advantage of the distraction and her hand already between her legs in a partial crouch, one hand worked its way under her skirt and began rubbing, over her panties.

She looked over as she scratched her itch, noticed her husband noticing her, but her two girls were off in their own little world. Polly was peeing, eyes closed, mouth open, and Cheryl had the most determined look on her face while she drank it down trying not to think about her daddy's finger work, or the tongue that was again tickling her pussy. Anna thought she recognized that feeling, the one where you know that if you relax a little you'll fall entirely over the edge and lose all control.

Cheryl's resolve ran out before Polly's bladder did, but only just. Her lips broke contact and let go in a cry as her body shook with orgasmic pleasure and her lips and chin trembled while getting splattered with the last dribbles from her sister's pussy. She didn't care at that point, her face drenched in the feel, smell, and taste of female urine at the point of what may have been her first orgasm may have even locked in Cheryl for a weird kink of her own, a very helpful one from Anna's perspective. Yup, as kinks go, it definitely could be worse.

"Ahh, I really needed that," Polly said, as though she was the one who orgasmed. "Where were we?"

"You were talking about getting ass-fucked at the glory hole for charity," Anna filled in, pulling her hand away from her pussy and hoping none of them noticed. "But we still hadn't gotten to how you lost your hymen or got a load in your pussy."

"Oh, well, that was an accident, the first time," Polly explained. By this time, her little sister had regained her breath and, Anna noted with pleasure, began eagerly licking up some of the urine around Polly's now glistening pussy. "I was going to let him go in my ass, but I guess I was a bit drunk... they offered me free drinks to get the piss taste out, and I'm pretty sure the piss was alcoholic too so things were getting pretty blurry. I do remember the moment I realized I fucked up and pushed it in my pussy instead of my ass though, since it hurt. But I had a job to do and pretty soon it felt good and I had an orgasm again, and, you know what, the second one was even easier and it gave my ass a break. I probably shouldn't have done that, though."

"It's okay, Polly," Anna said with a sigh. "At this point I think we've all done things we shouldn't have."

She was content to leave it ambiguous, but her husband had to be an asshole. "Yes, your mother for example has been masturbating to this. Quite inappropriate, if you ask me."

The girls looked back at her, and Anna blushed, shot a glare at her husband, and, fumbling for an explanation, said, "I was merely scratching."

Polly didn't buy a minute of it, stared at her legs as though expecting to see pussy juice running down them, and reacted almost as though she did. "Oh, wow, cool, Mom! I knew this might turn on Dad but I totally thought you were going to blow."

"I know what it's like to be plied with alcohol. You're right, you shouldn't have had sex with them, but I assure you, we blame the men far more than you."

"Good to know. Except... that's not what I meant. I mean I shouldn't have done that because I kinda messed up the charity auction."

Anna could see where this was going, if not completely where it would end. "They were all keen on auctioning off your virginity, huh?" Now she wanted to masturbate again, but her daughters weren't distracted and she couldn't seem to do it with them watching no matter how much she wanted to.

Polly seemed cheered up by her mother guessing what had happened. "Yup. Except, by the end of the 9-Holes, only one of the girls was still a virgin. Three weren't virgins when we started, though. Those sluts."

That amused her, and she quirked a smile. "You're one to talk, dear."

"Yeah, Mom, but I did it all for charity, they just did it for their boyfriends."

She waved a hand airily in her daughter's direction, dressed like a slut and with her little sister's face dripping her own urine into her recently-fucked pussy. "Still, let's not throw stones when we're living in glass houses."

"Fine. But you know I wouldn't have done any of this if it wasn't for charity, right? I mean, I was pure and I gave that up and I'm not gonna stop having sex anytime soon so I guess I'm a slut too now, but you know at least I didn't do it for selfish reasons right?"

Whatever you need to tell yourself, Anna thought, but instead said, "Of course dear. We're not mad at you."

"Okay, I hope that stays true because... here's the part you're really not going to like." Everyone waited with bated breath for Polly's next revelation. "Since I didn't have a virginity to offer up for the big auction, I had to promise something else."

"We won't be mad. A promise is a promise, honey," her father said, wiping the finger he finally took out of his daughter's asshole. "I assure you, whatever you promised, we'll abide by." Anna shot him a look, angry at the blank check to perversity he was basically giving her. She could even make up something... it didn't seem likely with how open she'd been, but it was possible.

"Okay, so... since the other non-virgin girls were doing it, and I really wanted that iPhone, I kind of auctioned off the right to knock me up."

Cheryl said, "Oh wow."

Jerry said, "To who?"

Anna said, "On what terms?"

Though they all said it at the same time, and Polly answered her mother first. "He's going to be able to have sex with me whenever he wants until I'm at least six months pregnant, and I can't have an abortion and he gets to try again if I don't give birth. And nobody else is allowed to fuck me until then... sorry Daddy." She looked genuinely sorry, but it was probably as much for herself as for her Daddy, who still was clinging to the ridiculous fiction that he would not do anything inappropriate as long as he had his pants on. "I'm not allowed to wear panties around the house and he can stop by and fuck me anytime he wants, even in the middle of dinner. But not in school or anywhere else, just here, his house, and the Swamp if I ever go back there."

"I guess that's some consolation," Jerry said.

It got worse. "He's not going to raise the baby, either, or be on the birth certificate, I have to do that on my own, except I hope you'll help me?" Her words were leading, but her eyes were pleading, wide, terrified, brimming with tears at the possibility.

"Of course we will honey, I promised," Jerry said. "Who are we going to have to be opening our door to and watch fucking you on the dinner table, though? Do you know his name?"

"It was that Judge guy, on the TV, the one who's running for congress. He bid a thousand dollars."

"It could be worse," Jerry said, looking at his wife, who thought that was awful cheap for a preteen whore a man could use whenever he wanted and knock up. She'd been offered more for less, including a tempting offer of $1500 from a man simply to cum on the face of one of her little girls while Anna jerked him off. "Even if we have to raise his baby on our own, if we treat him well and don't give him any trouble, he might throw some opportunities our way. I'm sure a man like that will want to open a lot of doors for a family raising his son or daughter."

"That's not all of it though," Polly said. "The bids weren't going too high, so I made another promise. This one involves Cheryl?"

The little girl smiled. "Me? I get to be knocked up too?"

"No. I tried, but they wouldn't let me, said you'd be old enough for next year's gala and it wouldn't be fair to you. But the judge had another idea, he bid the thousand dollars for me, and promised an extra thousand dollars if I swore I could get you to serve his dog. He'll take it slow but if you aren't ready to take a mounting in six months on video then we're responsible for paying that back."

"Oh." Cheryl considered it and the now only dimly-remembered feeling of the orgasm that had recently rocked through her at doing the most degrading thing, and considered whether one more degrading thing was too much or a chance at more fun. "I can do that, I guess. But I'm probably going to need someone to take my cherry first." She looked back to her father.

"I can use my finger, I guess," Jerry said.

The pout on her daughter's face finally broke Anna. The family was losing all their secrets anyway, and quite a few of their inhibitions. "If you want your father to fuck you, Cheryl, you just have to be alone in a room with him, take off all your clothes and ask him. And that goes for you too, Polly, the other way. Your father will not have sex with you as long as his pants are on, and he won't take them off unless you're completely naked."

"Wow. I wish you'd told us that earlier," Polly said, and then dropped another bombshell. "Maybe I'd have skipped the charity to just stay home with Dad. We'd owe so much less money that way."


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Could Be Worse, conclusion AnonyMPC 18/03/18(Sun)21:46 No. 25459 ID: a609fb

"What money?" The only money they should owe is a thousand, but only if Cheryl failed to take a dog cock, and Anna had already been visualizing how to make that happen. Maybe another thousand if Polly let herself get fucked by someone other than the judge who paid for her. But they didn't owe that money yet.

"Oh, right. Ummm... remember, you promised you wouldn't be mad? See... one of the first parts of the auction? They sold off the video rights for each girl from the 9-Holes, to be destroyed or spread around as the owner saw fit. I didn't even know they were filming, and, like, I thought maybe if I bought them myself and asked for them to be destroyed you'd never know all the stuff I did. I had no idea you'd all be so cool about it. Anyway, I pledged ten thousand dollars. But we have until next year to pay, so, it's only $833 and thirty three cents a month." Polly wasn't quite as down on math as her sister, apparently. "I'm sure it's not that much if you think of it like that."

"Polly! What were you thinking?" Anna shouted, but then remembered her promise and forced herself to calm down. "We can't afford another eight hundred a month... especially on top of paying for another child!" Even with her promise, she couldn't help being mad, but was surprised at how mild the anger it was, more at the money than the bad decision. And she wasn't even sure she should be angry about the money. After all, she still planned on turning the cops onto this sick scam. At least, she was 75% sure she was going to. Things had changed, a little... not just her perverted fantasies coming true... okay, sure, that was part of it, but there was a practical concern too. If a judge running for congress was involved in this mess, who knew who else the perverts had in their pocket? Maybe people who could make any accusation go very bad for the accusers. Crooked cops who could make snitches go away, for good. She'd seen plenty of cops on the take when she worked at the Swamp, so they could be involved. Still she was 50% sure she was going to turn them in tomorrow. Though, if you're only 50-50 on something, it seemed to her that the best idea was to wait a little and see if she got less sure or more sure after letting the Judge into their home for a few days... probably less sure, but who could be sure, with that much money on the line? Though, in truth, even owing that much money to perverts... it did provide a good excuse to do things she normally wouldn't.

Her daughter cringed at her initial burst of anger but afterwards only seemed a little sorry. "Yeah I probably should have thought through selling knock-me-up rights more. But I really wanted to win that phone and I was still a little short. If it helps, you don't have to pay me an allowance."

"You still have to pay me my allowance," Cheryl said. "I think I might even be due a raise, if I'm going to be having sex with dogs."

"Not dogs," Polly clarified. "One dog. Probably."

"I'm sure we can make it work," Jerry said. "If we have to. I can pull a little more time in at work. Maybe you could go back to selling homemade pies like you did when money was tight after Cheryl was born."

"I wasn't selling pies, Jerry," she said, with a roll of her eyes, although she now believed he knew. She always thought he was a little dim before for not noticing that she never seemed to need any baking supplies and yet always came home with money for selling her pie at The Swamp... now she figured he probably knew all along that he was briefly married to a part-time stripper, part-time whore. There was a certain spark in his eyes as he made the suggestion now, so she decided to make him confront it, even if that meant exposing it for the kids. "I was prostituting myself. But I could go back to that and make the money we need before the end of the year."

Sure enough, the revelation didn't seem to provoke and dramatic surprise or outrage from her husband, merely a passive disappointment that might well have been faked. The kids, they exchanged surprised look as though each wondered if the other already knew this, but Jerry, he just said, "If that's what you think you need to do. It's a sad thing, but... it--"

She cut him off. "Don't say it, Jerry, because it is about to get worse. If I'm going to whore myself out, I'm taking Cheryl with me." The little girls, their minds freshly blown by the revelation that their Mom was once a whore, practically goggled at this new bit of news. Anna justified herself for their benefit. "Polly might be safe around you as long as her womb is promised to the judge, but you know as well as I do that the moment I'm out the door this little girl will be stripping down so she can ride on Daddy's cock." Cheryl gave a pout, but Anna went on, "No, I'll let your father take your cherry if it means that much to you, but I'm not raising two baby grandchildren at the same time, and one of them an incestuous one, and I just don't trust either of you to take the proper precautions, so I'm not leaving you alone. Besides, a lot of guys will pay extra for a little girl to watch while they fuck her mother. That was a big request back when Polly was just four. It's why I got out of the business, I was starting to consider it." Mostly got out of the business, but even the few times she'd indulged since hadn't stopped the offers. Offers that now she could indulge, the girls were old enough, and corrupted enough, that giving in would only be a little wrong, by her book, and that little wrong was outweighed by the extreme amount of hotness it would be to watch, participate in and profit by. Finally, something inside her broke and Anna went ahead and lifted one leg to put it up on the armrest of the couch, then brazenly rubbed her crotch through her skirt... the more she thought about this plan the more she needed to do something, and at least it was still less than anyone else in the family did. She even told herself that she needed to join the depravity or they'd think it was a bluff and lose respect for her, as she continued, basically starting to fantasize out loud.

"And who knows what else I might consider, Jerry? A lot of guys would love to see a mom their spit her lover's cum in her daughter's cunt, or skip the middle man and just point his spewing cock directly there. I might not let them fuck her, but that might be doable." A sloppy pussy might not prevent their youngest daughter from getting pregnant too, but Jerry wondering about it might prevent Cheryl from carrying her father's baby, if he was too squeamish to fuck a cum-smeared preteen pussy after they got home and Anna needed to take a nap. To Cheryl, she added, "As for a raise in your allowance, I might let you do a little extra to earn it. Probably nothing worse than letting a guy pee in your mouth after sex, or maybe drinking pee out of your mother's fucked pussy while a guy watches. Or maybe sex with dogs for an audience, if you're going to be doing that anyway, might as well make some cash from it. If we play this right we can pay off our debt in a few months and start saving up for diaper costs."

"Wow, Mom. You're really going at it!"

"I might as well," Anna said, giving up the last vestige of dignity, pulling the skirt up, the underwear down, and spreading the lips as her fingers inserted deep and thrust in and out of her hot sloppy cunt while her daughters watched. Her sudden boldness had surprised even herself... she was no angel, but she'd spent so much of her life pretending to be one, except to a select audience. She barely even swore around her kids. Appearing, to her children at least, to be a perfect, completely respectable mother who barely even thought about sex, certainly never masturbated, and god forbid doing so in front of her kids... that had been a compulsion almost as strong as Jerry's weird quirks, and yet it seemed to be completely gone now, as though pushing through it once had destroyed it forever.

That was probably a bad thing. She'd relied on that inhibition... it helped her say no to men when otherwise she would have gone along with whatever they wished. If she could cross that line and fuck herself with her fingers, behave like a shameless whore in front of her kids, she knew that she was going to be letting guys do a lot more than what she promised Cheryl, and the little girl probably would be getting pregnant, if not by Jerry. Despite what she just said about her limits, she could totally see herself watching a total stranger empty his balls buried to the hilt in Cheryl's ten-year-old pussy without even negotiating a higher price and nothing more than the mother's glare to encourage him to tip heavily. And even that thought turned her on. The only thing more depraved than a whore was a child whore relying on her molesters for handouts. Okay, not the only thing, it could always get worse, but it at least one thing worse than she'd ever done, and now she craved experiencing that depravity, and beyond, like a new junkie wanted to try every high there was. That could go poorly for everybody, but right now she didn't care. "This family seems bound and determined to go to hell in a handbasket, and if you can't beat them, join them, right? But you know what, I really need to pee, and I'm not in the mood to go to the toilet. One of you girls want to help your mommy out?" To her surprise, Cheryl crawled over and knelt in front of her, already eager to demonstrate she deserved a raise in her allowance. The girl locked her lips on the right spot, and Anna let her bladder go and looked to her husband, who she knew must have a raging erection but wasn't strong enough to cross the line and overcome his baggage like she had hers. Anna felt the need to taunt him for that while she pissed in her daughter's mouth. "So, aren't you going to say it Jerry? Or do you finally agree that this family can't sink any lower, now that we're going to have to spend the next six months inviting a pedophile into our house and watching him try to fill her cunt with enough sperm to knock her up, and training our youngest to be a piss-drinking mutt slut, keeping it all on video, and me and Cheryl turning to prostitution to pay for your daughter's charity pledge and the obstetrician fees?"

Jerry stood up revealing his pants had a noticeable damp spot at the crest of his bulge, not hiding it and yet not able to truly reveal it, either, still held back from his evident desires while there were clothed people in the room. Pity for him, she thought, and decided that, tonight at least, she wouldn't let him fuck one of his daughters like he clearly wanted, a minor cruelty she could employ simply by keeping her clothes mostly on, a payback for all the 'Could Be Worses' of their relationship. It would be fun to watch him gape longingly at his wife and daughters getting raunchy without being able to do anything but suffer, at least until he reverted to pattern and slinked away to the bathroom where he could finally masturbate. Still, there was one good thing about Jerry, occasionally he did make her laugh, and his response did just that, when he simply walked over and collected the charity flyer from Anna. "Hey, it could be worse." He shoved the paper in her face, pointed to the line in fine print at the bottom, 'All proceeds to be donated to the NRA,' and added, "The pedophile trying to knock up our daughter could be one of those perverted, immoral Democrats."

The End
“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom


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Anonymous 18/03/18(Sun)22:20 No. 25460 ID: 81f332

hi... got any [shifts eyes left and right]
molestr?


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Anonymous 18/03/18(Sun)22:47 No. 25461 ID: f8bc57

>>25460
Give him the time to edit the story


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The Problem with Kayla (M+g, M+f, mg, mF, gangbang, rape/dubcon, ir, preg, AnonyMPC 18/10/12(Fri)22:45 No. 25814 ID: b330e9

The Problem with Kayla - A Phil Phantom Tribute (M+g, M+f, mg, mF, gangbang, rape/dubcon, ir, preg, best, incest, more)

You've probably heard a lot of rumors about our town, and it's true, we've got a serious problem, but I'm going to try to explain it. You need to know the whole score if we're going to talk about what we can do about it. Bear with me, this might take a bit and please hold your judgments until the end. Basically, it's a problem with one little girl named Kayla. And it all started with an essay. Or, at least, from the perspective of the town, it started there.

Now, when eleven-year-old Kayla Mitchell won her school's essay contest, everyone she knew was impressed. When that essay went on to the win a bigger competition that went state-wide, and to move on to contention in a national competition, many felt she deserved a reward, and our mayor, who was friends with her principal, had his usual idea. See, this is a relatively small town, just one big public high school, one middle school, and one elementary, and one college that's filled mostly with out-of-towners. The college is technically outside of town, though we get a lot of the students visiting for food or entertainment, and some rent places here. It’s certainly outside of the mayor's jurisdiction, and nobody cares about the younger school's sports except parents and perverts, so the high school sporting events are the social nexus of the town, and whenever somebody does something notable the mayor often uses a game's halftime to highlight their success, much to the annoyance of most of us who are just there to see youthful athleticism. Halftime was for cheerleaders, and most people resented time taken away to let some local band perform or honor the little league winners or whatever minor success was being celebrated, unless of course they or someone they knew was being honored.

Kayla's moment in the spotlight promised to be exceptionally boring... sure, all of her friends and family and family friends were excited, or pretended to be, about her getting to speak in front of her classmates and a good chunk of the town, but most people weren't interested in a little girl reading her award-winning essay on how to make America a better place to live.

Except when that little wisp of a girl got up in front of the microphone (or rather climbed up, since she's a small girl and to reach where the mic lowered to she still had to stand on a chair), brushed her dark bangs out of her hair, and began speaking, Kayla didn't read the essay she wrote--the one that many people suspected her parents actually wrote. The text of her actual essay would have in fact made a good, wholesome speech, not very interesting, but fundamentally sound, basically a speech about pride, pride in your school, your town, your state, and your country and how essential to a free society it was that it be the kind of pride that inspires us to be our best instead of being complacent. But that wasn't the speech she gave.

No, instead, little Kayla got up in front of everyone and started in on a different speech, and what it lacked in wholesomeness it made up for in memorability. It started off innocently enough but soon took a dramatic turn as this little preteen made it clear how she wanted to be raped, how she would never testify against a rapist, and went on to give her theories about it being the natural place for women to be sexual outlets and breeding stock for bold men, like the football players, or the men who eventually came to try to take her off the stage but she assumed were there to fuck her in front of everybody.

Maybe it shouldn't have taken so long to pull her off the stage, but while plenty in the crowd heard the weird turn the speech was taking, plenty of others just tuned out when a girl started reading something she wrote in school... and even her parents might have tuned out a little, for it started very much like the other essay, at least until the words "Girls should have the pride to be their own authentic self. Never be ashamed of who you are and who you were meant to be. I'm not. A lot of girls my age are already deciding if they want to do sexual things with guys. Well, I don't want to make that decision. I know it's too much responsibility for me to worry about. If you ask me for sex, I'll say no. So don't ask! Just tell me to get down on my knees and suck your cock until it's hard enough to fuck me with. I'll do it and keep it our dirty secret, because I'm submissive like a girl should be. Or better yet, just be a real man and push me down and force your cock inside of whichever hole you like best, that's the way nature intended and it makes me so wet to think about. If you ask me, forced sex is best sex. Now, don't take it personally if I fight back until you get it inside... sometimes I think it's just more fun for both of us that way, but if you're not strong enough to overpower a little girl like me long enough to shove your cock in her baby cunt, you're probably too young to shoot a load of warm gooey cum in her anyway, and then what's the point, right? If you're worried, bring a friend or two. A girl's got three fuck holes for a reason, right?"

It went on like that for two or three full three minutes as she expounded on her theories about women being naturally rape-bait for men, that she knew every girl probably didn't want that, but she sure did, and how if she got to high school before carrying at least one rape-baby, she'd take it as a personal insult to her attractiveness.

Stunned silence, aside from the occasional gasps, probably contributed to her being able to go on so long. What do you do when a little girl, barely out of elementary school, launches into a speech that lewd? Even if some might have privately agreed with her theories, at least a solid majority thought she should be taken off stage the first time she brought up rape, and expected somebody to do something. That was a big part of the problem I think... there were so many people there, everyone was waiting for somebody else to take appropriate action, which made everyone look like they were content to just sit and listen to this outrageous plea, a preteen giving a green light to any would-be child molesters. Another issue was that many of the men who might have wanted to stand up and escort her off-stage were worried that an erection might be seen when they did and taken the wrong way (the women had no such excuse, so why none of them stood up must remain a mystery). Also a key factor was that those with unquestioned authority were otherwise engaged... the mayor was listening to another game on earbuds during the speech, and so just nodded and smiled along without realizing what he was giving his smiling approval to, and the principals of both schools took the opportunity for a mid-game bathroom break, hearing the speech only on the field's speakers as their pants were around their ankles and I imagine both, separately, did what a lot of people wished they could while hearing Kayla talk. The vice-principals of the respective schools were screwing in a car in the parking lot, both cheating on spouses who routinely skipped out on the games and so missed the speech. As for Kayla's parents, well, they tried to push ahead to the front and demand action but it took them a while to work through the crowd.

Finally, two of the male high school teachers did intervene, pulling Kayla off the chair, and the stage as she finished off with, "Oh, I guess I've gone over my time. Or these two have decided to be the first to rape me. Wish me luck, and enjoy the rest of the game!"

Those men were not the first two to rape her, or indeed raped her at all that day. Nobody did. You'd have to have a pretty low opinion of this town if you expected otherwise. What there was, was a very tense conversation with her parents and the middle school principal and members of law enforcement, all trying to find out who put Kayla up to such a stunt. The little girl insisted it wasn't a stunt, it was her real feelings, she'd hoped she'd be raped by now but since it hadn't happened yet, she figured this was just the best way to tell as many people as possible that she was into it. After all, she reasoned, she knew she was going to get punished, but at least this way she only got punished once, which seemed a lot better than being punished every time she told someone it was okay to rape her and they had a conscience and told her parents, and besides, if she had to individually tell anyone who might rape her that it was okay, it was hardly like rape at all. No, she insisted, repeatedly, nobody had actually raped her yet, or touched her at all, she just knew she wanted it.

This had her parents, Walter and Nicole, tearing their hair out, not the least because they weren't sure whether to believe it, nor were the cops who had a duty to investigate. A girl that young with desires that kinky had to have been molested, they reasoned, or at least heavily groomed for it, and she might have been conditioned into keeping the secret with threats. To that end, over the next few days, every male relative and neighbor and teacher who had any sort of contact with her was investigated thoroughly... in the process, one of her uncles was found to be molesting his stepdaughter, but not Kayla... she'd only had the briefest contact with him and never alone, because everybody suspected something was going on there.

In the end, as far as anyone could tell, for Kayla could not be trusted to do so herself, nobody had actually had any kind of sex with Kayla. A medical exam (with a female doctor, at the mother's request) revealed no evidence of sexual intercourse, even oral, although the girl had lost her hymen, allegedly by her own hand. Furthermore, investigators searching through all of her social media and relationships could find no evidence that anybody had intentionally groomed her to be rape bait... the only signs they did find in fact pointed her to doing it herself, with a little help from Tumblr. The site was a social network that her parents didn't understand except that a lot of girls, and some celebrities, had Tumblr pages, and Kayla had one as well. Tumblr had a darker side, though... in addition to the youth market it also had a huge number of hardcore porn tumblrs, some for weird incest captions added to ordinary porn clips, or fetishizing evil cheating bitches, or a million of other perverted fetishes. Normally the two worlds stayed separate and while no individual sought out Kayla there and corrupted her, she had listed herself as eighteen and stumbled across the line, found and followed some of these adult pages, tame at first but from there exploring to more and more hardcore stuff. By the time of her speech, the ones she had been reblogging most were ones with a very perverted view of a woman's place in the world--that place being fucking or sucking or otherwise serving at the sexual whims of a strong man who took without asking and made the girl like it--and a batch of confessional-style tumblrs of girls willingly sacrificing their own intelligence and free will to be nothing more than sexual objects for these same kinds of men. Or women, occasionally... it's true that some of what Kayla had reposted involved dominant women enslaving other women, although that was a distinct minority. Looking at these images and watching these videos regularly while masturbating, a psychologist suggested, Kayla brainwashed herself into wanting it for her real life.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/12(Fri)22:52 No. 25815 ID: b330e9

A girl like that couldn't be trusted to be out unsupervised, and even before they determined that must have been what happened, her parents and school officials agreed that the little girl wouldn't be safe without stern and constant guardianship, and that couldn't happen at school. The girl had just essentially told the whole town (for, even those who weren't at the game soon heard about it from those who were) that she wanted to be raped. You can't really take a thing like that back... even if you change your mind, people already heard that if you say no you don't really mean it. Before, Kayla was trusted to walk to school, but now that meant walking past a high school full of teens who'd heard her beg for someone to grab her and force themselves on her, through a park with a lot of tree cover that could hide someone planning to give her what she wanted, and a row of townhouses, any of which she could disappear into and probably would if told to. Even assuming she made it safely to school, it hardly meant she was out of danger, for throughout the day she'd be exposed to loads of older kids, some struggling through their first hormonal urges and craving sex any way they could get it, even if it meant getting together with a few friends and pinning down a sixth-grader who secretly wanted it while they took turns trying out every hole she's got. Not to mention staff, some of whom might even be well-meaning, just willing to give one of their favorite students what she said she wanted and teach a few life lessons along the way like how to lower the risk of pregnancy through becoming an anal-only rapewhore. Although almost certainly not all of them would be so well-intentioned or interested in her welfare at all... over the years I've known some people who work at the schools, not just janitors forced to clean up after ungrateful brats, but teachers, grow to resent kids in their charge enough that they take any opportunity to make them suffer they can get away with, and if that meant through a rape that would never be reported, even better. The danger was real. Beyond even the risks to Kayla herself, though, with her attitude being what it was, the school administration also worried that she was a danger to other students, giving them dangerous ideas.

So, by mutual agreement, the suspension that started the moment Kayla gave her speech became her parents taking her out of school permanently, and Kayla's mother grudgingly quitting her job. Nicole didn't want to take that step, she made good money, but there didn't seem to be much choice. After all, they may have trusted Kayla to be home alone before, but now they feared she'd open her door to anyone, stranger or not, and plenty of people knew exactly where the little girl who wanted to be raped lived. Left alone, Nicole knew she'd come home from work one day soon to find her daughter's preteen pussy or asshole stretched around a cock... more likely, she'd just find the girl lying worn out or tied up with cum leaking out of her, but the image of catching them in the act was much more vivid in her nightmares from what she told her friends. Moreover, there was always the gnawing worry... maybe they'd clean up after themselves well and she'd never know for sure, but always suspect. Either way, in the wake of Kayla's speech, that little girl now had to be supervised at all times, lest she get a squirting dick inside her, and there were only so many relatives you could ask to help. Especially when Nicole, now newly paranoid, didn't trust any of them who had a dick of their own or, with women, any who had ever expressed, even casually, an interest in experimenting with lesbian sex, to even be briefly alone with her daughter. That left Kayla's great grandmother, called Grandma Martha, a cranky old woman who was against sex in all forms--to all appearances and her own admission, only had it once and got knocked up and angry and distrustful at men ever since--as the only alternative babysitter. The old broad might not have seemed like much help, elderly with cane and a bad hip, easy for a determined rapist to knock down and have his way with her great-granddaughter right in front of her, but she had a vicious Doberman named Chekov at her beck and call and carried a shotgun, so to many potential rapists she was more intimidating than the mother. Still, at Grandma Martha's age, it wasn't fair to ask her to help more than a few hours a week. That meant the little girl had to be homeschooled, by mom, and in addition, kept out of public as much as humanly possible, lest somebody be willing to risk everything and others willing not to spoil a good time if someone else did.

This wasn't entirely parental paranoia with theoretical perverts and pervert-enablers behind every corner, either. It was a clear and present danger. In the first two weeks alone, two public rapes, or at least molestations, were barely averted and reinforced a mother's need for vigilance, not that it needed much reinforcing. The first incident was when, after a meeting with a psychologist, Nicole brought her daughter to McDonald's for lunch. Everything seemed normal--stares and whispers from other people, sure, but they were growing used to that--right up until she went to the bathroom and returned to find a man rushing away from their booth and trying to stuff an erection back in his pants and her daughter Kayla flailing to get back into a seated position from where she'd been pushed into the seat... you could tell she was pushed because a stray French fry was mashed into her dark hair. It was also hard to miss the way the button of her jeans was now missing, as though torn off, and they were also unzipped and pulled down to her ass enough to expose the crack but not quite the hole. A few seconds later, or if they weren't so tight, and that man would have gotten the clothes off and something inside something a lot tighter. The best proof that it hadn't already happened was Kayla's sulk the rest of the day. Then, not two days later, in the grocery store, Nicole lost track of her daughter as she crossed down a new aisle, then when she realized and turned back, she found Kayla on her knees staring at an erect cock with an open mouth and extended tongue, though thankfully this pervert, too, fled when she, not the daughter but the mother, screamed. Two near rapes of her eleven-year-old daughter in broad daylight, in public, that was sure to get her paranoid forever after. Worst of all, in the grocery store nobody else was in that aisle, but in the McDonalds? Nicole was sure she heard a suspicious round of coughing when she emerged from the bathroom, that could only be interpreted as a heads-up to a would-be rapist to abort before being caught even more in the act by an angry mother.

It takes a village to raise a child, they used to say, but Nicole couldn't trust this village. The size of the town is probably one reason. It's big enough to have plenty of strangers you can't identify and yet small enough that people cover for each other. I'd guess that between the contingent who secretly thought, "I hope that little slut gets what coming to her," and those who secretly thought "I hope that adorable little slut gets what she's after," it made up half the town, and a good chunk of that wanted to do the job themselves, or at least watch and help whoever did the job get away with it.

That made for a lonely life for a little girl. The Internet was cut off, of course, except rarely under direct supervision. Visitors were forbidden. Girls her own age were allowed, at first, to give Kayla some semblance of a social life... until their parents walked in on little Kayla being forced into eating pussy. Imagine that, being a parent, walking in on your child, tongue buried in the crotch of one of her visiting 'friends', face slimy and glistening, while another girl roughly banged your daughter's little hole with two fingers and a third held her arms so she couldn't fight back if she wanted to. Judging by the also wet cunt of the one holding the arms, they'd had time for at least one change-up to the roster.

After chasing the girls out of the room, Kayla's parents asked her what happened. "They forced me! I thought they were my friends!" But she said it with a big bright smile on her face, itself still stained with girly juices, and then went on to an excited recounting of exactly how they had forced her, a tale that Kayla could not recount without her hands slipping into her underwear and rubbing furiously, a step so far she'd avoided in front of her parents.

Mom broke first, unable to watch her daughter masturbate openly while grinning as she continued her story by explaining how one of her friends, Lauren, after cumming on her tongue, then got a rubber dong that she said was the size and shape of Lauren's dad and shoved it inside Kayla's ass while Michelle took her turn at forcing Kayla to use her mouth. When Kayla realized that Lauren had left the fake cock on the bed when it was her turn to hold Kayla down and completely forgotten it in the panic of getting out, the girl offered to get it and show exactly her parents how far it got forcibly pushed into her ass. That was the last straw and Nicole had to get out of the room.

Walter was still interested in hearing the tale, at least for the few seconds before his wife came back in to drag him out. Grandma Martha wasn't there at the time, but her advice was to whup the little girl's ass for acting like such a whore until she changed her ways... though she advised this for a lot, and they knew she sometimes put the advice into practice when she watched Kayla and the girl had said or done something outrageous in front of her. Walter and Nicole, although not approving of corporate punishment, never explicitly forbade it... but it was one thing to ignore it and another to perform it or specifically request it as punishment for their little girl's reaction to being turned into a fucktoy by her own friends.

That incident was, as far as they or anyone else knew, Kayla's first taste of actual rape, not fantasized, not threatened or nearly-got-raped, but actually rape, and from her own girl friends and a rubber cock that was apparently a good approximation of Lauren's father's, although whenever anybody talked about the event, the word 'forced' was used, but not raped, not even by Kayla. It was as though nobody seemed to count it if it wasn't a real cock, but it had to count by any reasonable standard. That Kayla so evidently enjoyed it was pretty worrying to her parents, though. So was the occasional suggestion from well-meaning friends that maybe they should just let her get raped by at least one man on a regular basis, because otherwise she was in danger of becoming a lesbian. Reverend Chapman, the local preacher, who first proposed this (while providing, or attempting to provide, private spiritual counseling for the parents as Grandma Martha watched Kayla at home alone), also volunteered himself for the job, but was overruled by the parents immediately.

The other option the priest proposed--in that hasty meeting they requested in desperation and were now having second thoughts about--was a chastity belt the church had access to. That sounded like a good plan at first except that contrary to the media depictions, it would require regular removal, cleaning, and bodily care by an expert, who should see her daily and also hold the key. Again he volunteered himself as the only one qualified, and that suggestion was also rejected, and the whole chastity belt idea fell by the wayside, as did the hope of being able to rely on the church for any real help. "Besides," her father, Walter, pointed out once they got home. "It's not like it would let us send her to back school anyway... even if they couldn't get through the belt, that would just encourage them to rape her sweet mouth instead."


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Anonymous 18/10/12(Fri)22:53 No. 25817 ID: b98290

This is amazing.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/13(Sat)15:02 No. 25819 ID: d0fab8

So began Kayla's isolation. Limited excursions, no visitors, not even non-internet phone privileges after the tendency to find the little girl masturbating at the instruction of a strange voice on the adult end of the line telling her how he'd rape her. The last straw on that particular issue was walking in on Kayla being instructed to fist herself to simulate the speaker's supposed cock. That was disturbing not just for the instruction (which because Nicole arrived just in time, was never carried out, at least not live on phone) but for the fact that Nicole had screened the call before passing it to Kayla and been sure it was one of Kayla's cousins at first. Either someone had made Nicole's niece make the call and she turned it over to a pervert, or Kayla had used the phone access to call someone else after. Either option was disturbing enough that it ended the phone privileges entirely. That meant Kayla had to spend a lot of her time cut off from all human contact except her parents. She was like a princess locked up in a fairy tale castle, except in this case all the dragons were outside.

Even her father could only see her supervised, which wasn't entirely unfair, considering what happened when Lauren next showed up, while Nicole was taking Kayla to a doctor's appointment. Kayla's dirty blonde little friend and recent rapist had the nerve to come by the day after lesbian raping to ask to retrieve something she left behind, something long and rubber and about yay-big. A normal fatherly reaction might have been to threaten police action, or attempt to morally educate the girl and explain why her behavior was unacceptable. Instead, Kayla's father simply made the little blonde preteen prove the black rubber cock she was looking for was hers, by inserting it all the way inside of her, first in her pussy and then in her ass, and, while it was in her ass, he stepped over another line and pushed the preteen down on her face and made use of her wet pussy and made it even wetter.

Now Walter might tell himself that he was just doing that to teach the girl a lesson, standing up for his daughter against the bullies who forced themselves on her, and he would eventually try telling others that story as well, but while he may have been thinking of his daughter when he filled that little girl's hairless pussy full of cum, and sent her home with it leaking out and the rubber penis still in her ass, the only way he was protecting Kayla was by getting certain urges out on somebody other than his own little girl.

So obviously, although he kept this secret from his wife (for a while), Nicole's motherly intuition that her husband couldn't be trusted alone with an easily rapeable little girl was accurate, and what's more, Walter was worse than useless at protecting her from other threats, at least after Lauren's dad confronted the man about what he'd done, and the fact that she was now pregnant with Walter's baby, and either of them could send him to jail with a simple DNA test... but Lauren's dad also told him, with a smile, that there was no reason for that to happen, and indeed Walter could keep raping the little slut, as long as he, in kind, promised to not stand in the way if Kayla's mom was distracted enough and a good rape opportunity presented itself with either or both. That didn't seem likely to happen anytime soon, as Mom and Grandma Martha were ever-vigilant, and little Kayla on lockdown, which made it easy to promise to get out of a police visit.

The whole situation was unsustainable long-term, everybody knew that, and Kayla's parents knew the best option was to move away, give her a fresh start, of sorts... they'd still have to keep an eye on Kayla, but at least wouldn't have to keep an eye on the whole town, if they only lived somewhere that nobody had heard her speech, but that presented its own difficulties. For a fresh start you need money they didn't have, it was all sunk up in the house. And that, they tried to sell, of course, right from the start, but everyone in town knew where the little rapebait girl lived, and every Open House concluded with the discovery of cum on Kayla's bed, usually pillow, and occasionally in her fresh underwear drawer. This was, of course, because the family typically leaves at an open house, something many visitors were disappointed to find out, especially because the first sign had been vandalized to say "Open Ho" and visitors felt it was a bait and switch to advertise that and then try to sell them an empty house. Every Open House also required a thorough round of motherly vigilance to check if somebody snuck in a cell phone or recording device or vibrator into Kayla's room, or hid in a closet under the bed for a good chance. This check was also not merely theoretical, although some of them took longer to locate than others. The electronics, that is... the men were found very quickly, to Kayla's disappointment, and all arrested except for one fourteen-year-old that they simply told on to his parents, thinking that was enough punishment. Eventually it just seemed easier to take the house off the market. The only offers they got for the property included unworkable stipulations, like that the buyer had to have a key and free access to every room of the house at any time up till the closing date, day or night, or that Kayla had to perform at a private party lasting an entire weekend. And even those offers were under the asking price. The market was rough on everybody, but especially on Kayla's family who were stuck with a rape-craving daughter in a nice house in a good town that seemed more and more interested in satisfying that craving.

I did just call it a good town, and I stand by that. I mean, it might seem from all this like this town was, is, a hellhole of debauchery, perverts on every corner, confident enough to attack in broad daylight, a danger to everybody. But that's not the case. All the town's open perversion and tolerance for such back then surrounded one little girl who had seemed to be asking for it, and what's more mostly trying in vain. Other than that... well, of course there was a seedy underside. Every town's got one. Sure, kids got molested, rapes happened, but they were no worse and handled with the same seriousness as they are in other towns (which sadly includes a lot of people not believing accusations, but you can hardly blame the town for a problem all of society has). There was just one collective blind spot, at first, anyway. The same types of protective men who, upon seeing a single man sitting on a park bench, would confront him, demand to see his phone to prove he wasn't a pervert taking pictures of little girls would shrug their shoulders and ignore shady people obviously following Kayla and her mother out in public. Mothers would give their sons speeches on respecting women and the importance of consent, then end it with, "Except Kayla, if you get a chance at that little slut, rape her all you want, just don't get caught." I dare say that if a man encountered a woman stumbling drunk and naked in the middle of the night, in our town, there would have been better than average odds that he'd give her the shirt off his back and escort her home unmolested... unless it was Kayla, in which case she'd get a little more than molested. It was downright weird... when it involved that one little girl, people got bold, or complacent, like they all knew that child was going to get raped and rather than dreading it, it seemed best to get it over with, make a game of it, at least among a small percentage of the population, and the rest of the town just looked the other way and went on as normal. At first.

Because that little girl may have been sequestered to protect the kids from her perverted and dangerous philosophy, but the damage was already done... a lot of them already heard it, girls around her age or younger, and it slowly began to have an effect on their town, an effect that persists to this day. "I'm with Kayla" soon became a new slogan, worn first on t-shirts or buttons, though both of those were banned at school. Silicon gel wristbands with the slogan were eventually tolerated... once they got to the point of making those, the faculty had given up on trying to contain it, and you can hardly walk down the street without seeing at least a couple girls wearing them.

The slogan idea started with the high school girls, as something of a joke, at first, or at least that's what they told themselves, a way to get attention campaigning for something nobody should want. A couple weeks after the speech, a handful of girls came to school wearing "I'm With Kayla!" T-Shirts, and "Rape Me If You Dare" on the back. Caused quite a scandal, as you might expect.

One of the ringleaders of this plan, an artsy activist type named Patricia Harris, a girl who often wore baggy clothes to hide her body, left her hair a wild black mess rather than get it styled, and wore unflattering but functional glasses. Many people were convinced she was a lesbian, but as far as I saw she never dated at all. The girl got interviewed in the school paper about her stunt after she was suspended and she was unrepentant and determined to go right on wearing it, albeit not on school grounds. She said she thought it served as a beautiful commentary on how the patriarchy encourages women to become their worst negative stereotypes. Of course the administration swiftly banned the shirt and punished anyone who tried to wear it on school grounds, but nobody did anything else to Patricia, or the others at school. At first.

But you tempt fate enough, and fate will rape you, as the old saying goes. Or maybe that's a new saying, and it's only here people are saying it. Whatever the case, one day Patricia went missing coming home from school. Her parents were frantic, but she appeared a day later wearing nothing but the shirt, claiming rape, that she couldn't see the faces of the men (plural) who took her but she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of making her stop her political statement, she was going to keep wearing the shirt whenever she could.

At the behest of her parents, the shirt got replaced with a more subtle button that ditched the "rape me" line and just said "I'm With Kayla!" What was less subtle was the way Patricia started steadily improving her appearance, doing her hair and makeup with a fastidiousness she would have mocked earlier, showing off her body with skirts and shirts that got shorter and shorter with every rape. Did I leave that out? Yeah, she kept getting raped, obviously, and kept telling everything but the names to anyone who'd listen, and after a few she was skirting the school dress code and seemed to be deliberately dressing like a bimbo to encourage more rapes. You'd think her experiences would put a stop to the whole shirts and buttons idea, but the truth was, many just thought she wasn't really being raped, she was just a garden-variety slut using an excuse. Maybe you think so too, but you'd be wrong, she said 'no' every time, or at least the time I was present for. But I can understand why girls didn't believe her word, with the way she was dressing more and more like a slut, and started demanding teachers call her Trish instead of Pat for short, then Cumsponge Trish, but when they balked at that she insisted her name was now Tiffany, because Tiffany was a name that told everybody you weren't useful as anything other than being a human cocksleeve anyway (which of course, sparked a bitter rivalry with Tiffany Pryce, but that was a conventional teen girl rivalry and included only a few arranged rapes on either side so rather than go on a tangent I will leave that story for another day). She'd hardly be the first girl who got cock-drunk and started organizing her life around that need and maybe that's partly true, but what she craved wasn't just sex, but specifically rape. She really was like Kayla, she turned down anyone who asked, she just wanted to be held down and forced to be some man's sexual outlet. All of that might seem like a total rejection of her earlier ideals, but Trish, or Tiffany now, hadn't changed completely... she still was interested in social justice, she just expressed that by trying to arrange more black and Asian men, or trans men or girls or anyone other than white cishet men, to rape her. Sure, white guys still did, because a woman can't always control who rapes her (not to mention that although the town may not be all white, it's not the most diverse either), but she can make it easy and pleasurable for some more than others, and she always made sure to take a morning-after pill if a white guy had raped her. And she was still a firm opponent of police brutality, particularly against blacks but against anybody unless it was police brutally raping her pussy... that she would be okay with, though she'd probably berate them for abusing their power while they did it.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/13(Sat)19:15 No. 25820 ID: d0fab8

Because the other girls thought 'Trishany' was just a dumb slut, or on the road to that, the "I'm With Kayla" buttons grew in popularity despite the potential consequences, which were attributed more to the shirt's provocative "rape me if you dare" addition... kids assumed with the subtler messaging they could always explain to a creeper that they didn't really want rape, they just supported Kayla emotionally. But wearing the buttons... they were a good way of getting attention, some from other sluts-in-hiding who wanted sexual attention rather than actual rape, some as a way to mock Patricia-Tiffany (who, despite multiple people wearing the shirts, seemed to be the only one to get raped for it at first), some still believing in the original stated purpose to make a statement against the patriarchy, and some just thumbing their noses at authority in general. Eventually the faculty caught up, and (after the first on-campus rape, where Trish, now Tiffany, was found in the boy's bathroom unconscious and covered in cum), the buttons were banned too.

It's hard to keep a good trend down, though, and within a few days of the ban (maybe even before it) the wristbands started appearing. Don't ask me who made them... or who ordered them, anyway. They were made in bulk from an internet order, just little pink silicone bracelets saying "I'm with Kayla." Tiffany was one of the ones handing them out (which Tiffany, I'm not entirely sure of, I wasn't around those weeks and my sources are confused... it might even have been both) but who initiated the order, I've never been able to figure out. But they sure got around.

High school girls... the sluts, the mockers, and the true believers, simply replaced one type of subversive signal with another, and even if they didn't agree on exactly what they were signaling, at least believing they were pulling one over on adults, a nice side benefit. The middle school girls, though, they mostly took it unironically, at first, probably because many of the ones who took on the cause didn't really understand exactly what they were advertising, they really thought they were giving moral support to Kayla, wanting her back at school as a friend they missed, rather than actually saying they agreed with her ideas that raping was natural and the best kind of sex. Not all of them, the ones with sexual experience, like the girls who raped Kayla personally, they knew the deal and some were all for it as long as they could pretend they didn't get it, use the excuse that they couldn't expect to be actually raped.

And indeed, it being a good town, nobody was raped, save Trishany. At first. But when that dam burst, first it started as a trickle, then became a flood. Uses of the little pink bracelet after the next cluster of rapes, targeting a variety of different girls with only the bracelet in common, shot way down.

Then their popularity began to trickle up again.

Even at this stage, I must point out, rapes were rare. Just sex was rare for the younger set. We are, as I said, a good town, and not everyone has the stomach for rape, and certainly not to rape a child. Me, personally, I can't claim I'm completely innocent, or that I don't have tastes for younger stuff than I should, but I abhor rape and couldn't possibly bring myself to rape a girl, unless I was certain she really wanted it, and even then, I wouldn't go any younger than the age where, from a lot of observational experience, people can reason like adults if they actually choose to, which is fifteen. Except for Kayla. I'd have raped that little darling preteen slut if I just had a few unobserved seconds to snatch her off the street. And maybe a few similar exceptional candidates, but on the whole, I'd refuse sex with an underage girl even if offered. I don't think I'm unusual in that level of moral fiber either, which is why rapes were rare, at first. It was just a few people doing it, and only a few girls getting it. Often the most attractive, which often meant the most popular, which is probably what made the wristbands popular again after the initial fear ran out. It was just a small group at first, but the bands became a hip thing to wear again once the popular girls started trading their rape stories in gossip sessions at school that faculty sometimes heard and often pretended they didn't because they were a little disturbing. They were half-gossip sessions, focusing on lurid details told with visible excitement both from listeners and speakers, and half-tips about who would take advantage of a girl. Reverend Chapman was quickly learned to be someone you could go to if you wanted to be molested, a slow ramp-up that would lead to a rape if you kept seeing him, and the number of girls who did soon reignited his faith in God, albeit a very different God than the one he had originally imagined calling him to the clergy.

It started getting really out of control when girls began proudly and brazenly using it as a reason to get out of handing in an assignment or taking a test they hadn't prepared for. "I can't, I just got raped yesterday," is an excuse that's hard to deny, as long as the girl's willing to go into details in front of the class (which never included the identity of the perpetrators, although sometimes that could be figured out from where it happened). It became even more of a perverse incentive because everyone believed the excuse was probably true, on some level, of the wristband-wearers, but girls who tried to use that excuse without wearing one stopped being believed, unless, sometimes, they were willing to submit to very public in-class inspections to prove that their holes had been violated (in retrospect, that might have been a mistake, but administration let it slide). So if you wanted a ready-made excuse to get out of your schoolwork when you needed it, taking the band, and risking the rapes that came with it, became the price you paid. And it was a risk many took, actual rapes still being rare then. Many of those who cried rape to get out of schoolwork were almost certainly making things up. At first. But only certain types of stories could get your out of an assignment, the type where guys just grabbed you and you couldn't see who it was, the real gossip sessions were a lot more exciting as the popular girls, the ones who got raped breathlessly swapped stories of bigger and better rapes often from people everyone knew.

Not all their stories were true either, mind you, especially not the part about being forced... Chapman might have only needed a few girls pushing him into it before he started to seek out any girl with a wristband for private spiritual counseling, but some other men had standards. Kids exaggerate, if not outright lie, and you know, let's be honest, the definition of rape here is kind of fundamentally iffy. When a girl announces she wants to be raped, wears a bright pink wristband to that effect, dresses slutty to show off as much skin as she can get away with, finds excuse after excuse to be alone with men who might do it, tugs on the bracelet in front of them to make sure they see it, snaps it against her skin a few times if that doesn't work, and gets wet as fuck when one's cock pushes its way inside, sure, let's call it rape if she at least half-heartedly says no when he finally pushes her into a wall and starts removing her panties. But when a girl pulls her skirt up, gets down on all fours and points her naked ass at the school janitor after hours, and claims she just fell down, then asks if he can help her up, then asks him not to touch her with his grubby janitor's hands, he should use his cock, it's hard to take what happens next seriously as a forcible rape no matter how Becky Lowenthal tried to spin it later.

Nor, as I understand, did little Dina Lopez really get raped by the football team of the nearby college... she simply took a bus down there, snuck into the locker room, stripped down to nothing but her wristband, waited for the first team to come in and said she'd do anything for one of the team's towels, but no, there was no whole-team gangbang on that eleven-year-old, they shooed her out of there and gave her a ride home and only the two that drove her took turns fucking her in the back seat in the driveway of her place to kill time until someone got home and they wouldn't have to worry about leaving her unsupervised. She got her towel though, which let her brag about more than she (probably) did.

And though Tina Williams did get raped by Missy Robertson's brother Josh, for real, with only the presence of the wristband and a few minutes alone the morning after a sleepover, it took Missy crying for an hour at how if he was going to rape her friend he needed to rape her too before Josh finally dumped his first incestuous load.

You could hardly call that rape, but she did, and it was the first incestuous rape to get bragged about, at least in the immediate family. Uncles, cousins, grandfathers, sure... occasionally the Kayla supporters talked about that, but that hardly counted, immediate family was something new, because they had constant access. A lucky girl could be at risk for a rape all night every night, a perfect excuse to get out of homework, if they just lied about where it happened and showed the teacher the cum stains in the morning.

Of course even if you consider it rape (and you might, of the statutory kind, since he was a college student at the time) Josh raping his twelve-year-old-sister was hardly the first in-home incest rape to happen (remember Lauren, after all and her suspicious knowledge of her father's cock size)... it was just the one that opened the Kayla supporters eyes to some of the possibilities and let some rapes come out of the closet.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/13(Sat)19:48 No. 25821 ID: d0fab8

But this kind of stuff was still pretty rare, and a lot of made-up stories were competing with the real ones, and, kids being kids, a lot of gossip about who was doing the raping was also made up, leading to some fine respectable boys who were still in fact virgins, being given the reputation for being insatiable rape-monsters.

That was when the High School Rape Club formed, and where things really exploded in popularity. Of course, it wasn't called that, you could never get administration approval for that club (at least, official administration approval), but at a meeting of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, some of the more bold rapists got together with some of the unjustly accused and started sharing stories of their own, and collectively decided, fuck it, if bitches wanted to be raped, they were going to be raped. Masturbation was a sin too, so why masturbate when there were enough girls asking for it that you could just grab one and have some fun every time you got a boner? They formed the Huntsmen Club, ostensibly a club to talk about hunting and other outdoorsy activities, and sometimes they did talk about that, but mostly what they were hunting was rape victims. They got a faculty sponsor who agreed with their real mission and held after school meetings, eventually to brag and trade tips, share pictures and videos, and often to drag a girl to for a gang rape, but at first to agree to certain core issues, like what constituted 'fair game.'

For all that they were conservative in their origins, they were also remarkably egalitarian about that. They didn't care if you were a lesbian, straight, or trans in heart but not yet allowed to have surgery, as long as you had a pussy between your legs and wore a pink wristband or gave some other unambiguous signal that you wanted rape, they would rape you. A few even only required an asshole and some gays and trans girl students did don the wristband and find out the town was a lot less conservative than they always believed, at least behind closed doors. In fact, what had formerly been only one openly trans girl in town soon became about a dozen, all of them firm, band-wearing Kayla supporters, and somewhat convenient rape targets thanks to the school district's regressive policy requiring them to use the boy's bathroom and locker rooms. The trans men only tripled in number, but some of them got a lot of action for similar reasons, at least when they found out about the club and joined in.

Fair game also didn't worry overly about age, just what they called "sustainable hunting," which meant that making sure a victim was still available for raping by other Huntsmen... if a girl was so little that you'd send her to the hospital by raping her, or caused her to go crying to her parents who blew the whole deal, you're not being a good hunter, wristband or no wristband. Being attentive to particular rape victim's needs was also highly recommended, some girls liked to be held down, some wanted to be free to play games or text on their phone while the rape happens (if you had the right type of rapist, being rape-bait was a good hobby for that, not requiring your full attention), some appreciated a couple bills thrown on them, sticking to their cum-stained body, after a particularly enjoyable rape (for the rapists). This wasn't thought of like they were being paid for the sex, since then prostitution wasn't rape at all, but just like a nice, optional, tip for a rape victim being compliant, a tip which might pay for a morning-after pill if the girl was worried about that, or prenatal vitamins, but mostly because it encouraged such good behavior with future rapists, and of course not to snitch, except gossiping among wristband wearers and potentially future wristband-wearers, which was fine as long as it was complimentary.

After the first few meetings of the Huntsmen, a lot more of the rape stories turned out to be true, and a lot more girls were having them, and that the club got away with it so often encouraged more and more people outside the club to target the town's girls. That was when rape really started to become a town epidemic, though it still all happened slowly enough that a lot of people didn't notice until it got really bad.

Some clung to the idea that it wasn't a rape epidemic, it was just an underage sex epidemic. You could argue of course, and some did, that the rapes weren't really rapes, because the supposed victims chose it to happen by wearing the wristband in the first place. That was in fact argued successfully in court, several times... the judge instructed them that legally it was not a defense, at least not in cases of statutory rape of minors, but jury nullification definitely played a role in many cases, defendants getting off once it was proved that the victim wore a "I'm With Kayla" wristband and implicitly invited it, even if she was nine years old. Perhaps "jury of one's peers" may not have been the best idea after all, at least not in a town where many of the peers wanted their own shot at Kayla, or those who followed her, and with the election of a new judge partway through the scandal who was sympathetic to the requests by the juries to 'inspect' the victim like she was any other piece of evidence. Jury members privately interviewing a witness is unheard of in law, but that new judge ruled that as long as a girl didn't talk, it didn't count as testimony, and they could make sure her mouth was too full to talk. The judge's ruling was unorthodox but limited in scope, and allowed local juries merely to examine relevant matters of fact to determine whether a rape occurred and how severe it had been. For example, they were instructed that they could explore issues like "does she still have a hymen?", "how wet did her pussy get while stroked?", "how easily does her asshole and pussy accommodate one cock after another?", and "how long did it take between dumping loads inside her and loads no longer visibly leaking out?" (which helped narrow down if she had multiple partners that day and if there were any unindicted co-conspirators) but not anything irrelevant like "does she like to get spanked or pissed on during sex?" unless that was a component of the alleged crime itself. Juries often became divided on the issue of whether a girl was asking for it, Twelve Angry Men style, requiring extended deliberations, even though, in the end, they tended to agree. I'm not even going to make the obvious hung jury joke. Few rape trials ever ended in convictions for someone wearing a pink wristband, and double jeopardy applied so, legally speaking, no rape occurred in those cases at all.

Of course, even if you took that theory that inviting a rape wasn't rape, real rapes did occur. They always had before the wristbands, and although the availability of easy-access rape-bait lowered the numbers, it didn't eliminate the phenomenon completely... some guys just got impatient at waiting for particular girls to don the bracelet, and decided they could slip it on her wrist after the fact and leave her cum-covered and worn out in front of the Sherriff's office so he could later testify she was wearing it when she was found. Some wore it only on a dare, only to find the ones who made the dare got a lot more daring with a girl with a pink band on her wrist, other girls were tricked into wearing one without knowing what it meant, a trick particularly employed to haze new girls (at least one of who started out as a new boy). And there were some genuine misunderstandings, or at least claimed misunderstandings, where someone raped a girl who they thought was advertising for it, assuming the "#MeToo" shirt they were wearing was asking for the same treatment as too many other girls in town were getting, rather than the exact opposite, or seeing a pink bracelet on a wrist and only finding out after the rape that it wasn't a "I'm with Kayla" wristband but rather a bracelet supporting, say, breast cancer research, or, occasionally, outright mistaking one girl for another.

One thirteen-year-old girl was raped by her twin sister that way... not directly, but merely by proxy. See, Layla McCarthy wore the pink band and enthusiastically took a rape on a daily basis, while her sister Lorelei didn't, but... they were identical twins, both with pretty red hair and pale, freckled skin, often dress alike save for the wristband, and people who've raped you once usually assume that if you strut boldly by them like you don't know who they are that you're basically just asking for it again, especially if they don't know you have a twin. A lot of people even started to think that Lorelei wanted the rapes too, just she wanted them more realistic and craved the humiliation of the in-class rape inspections when she needed an extension on an assignment because of one. I can't speak to that, you never know what's inside someone's head, but I do know that if you rape each of the twins a few times you can tell them apart... not just by their reaction once you get your cock in, either, although that's a dead giveaway as well. I know what you're thinking, she's not even fourteen, much less fifteen, but I swear, I only know from the trial, I happened to be on the jury (civic duty happens to be very important to me), and we did an extensive review of the evidence, deliberating overnight, and eventually it became pretty clear... Lorelei's got more ass-freckles, so you can stop before actual rape occurs, if you're really going to hold firm to the Huntsmen Code. But I can understand the mistake for first-timers, and there was no evidence that the accused raped both of them regularly enough to make that distinction, and that's why we voted to acquit. Mistakes happened, and it just didn't seem just to ruin a man's life over a simple cast of mistaken identity.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/14(Sun)03:45 No. 25822 ID: 5758a9

It got even easier to make mistakes like that once the wristbands stopped being the only clear signifier that a girl wanted to be raped. Kaitlyn Walsh was responsible for the first of these, and while a heartfelt desire to be held down and raped by strangers may have been part of the reason she did what she did, a lot of us think it was mostly envy. See, before Kayla made her speech, Kaitlyn was probably the most well-known little girl in town, thanks to her modeling career. Most folks didn't know her name, but they recognized her on sight from flyers, and the commercial from the local car dealership, and a few others from the nearest big city that aired frequently, including a Mattress Warehouse that she was the face of. Granted, this was all small-time stuff, but, in a small-time town, it counted as celebrity. Before Kayla burst into prominence, if you took a poll and asked people which underage girl they most wanted for a little bit of naughty sexual fun, and instead of rounding up a mob they somehow answered honestly, she'd have won by a majority. Golden blonde locks, angelic face and a tiny lithe body with, at just thirteen, already softball-sized, perfectly proportioned little titties that hid easily under clothes if a job needed the little-girl-look but really looked great in a bikini for an glossy advertisement. Before Kayla the biggest gossip among the dirty old men was the rumors that there was an accidental Kaitlyn nipslip that didn't make the final flyer. Plenty of casual inquiries were made, but either it was a myth or the photographer was very selfish. Just the rumor though probably inspired more than a few masturbation sessions. And she knew it too, the effect she had on men, reveled in it, so it must have stung to see a new girl, two years younger, suddenly getting all of the attention she had come to expect as her due. She was the middle school queen, dethroned in her final year and feeling herself becoming more and more irrelevant as the art of the tease was giving way to the art of just letting someone know they can rape you with no consequences. Early on, she confidently told people "I'd never wear one of those ugly wristbands" in the hopes of stopping the trend with her displeasure, only to find it growing despite her.

So, Kaitlyn must have decided, "Okay, the rules have changed, I'll beat this little upstart tart at her own game." She prided herself on seeing the next big trend, and if that trend was rape, she was determined that she would be the face of rape, not Kayla. She kept her vow not to take the wristband. But she did start advertising herself as prime rape meat in her own rights.

Now this was during the time when the Huntsmen were just getting going, and they were responsible for most of the rapes that deserved the name. They and some of the bolder adults, sure, although most of the people inclined to rape a middle schooler were still trying to crack the Kayla problem, and the ones who simply weren't picky were focusing on the high school girls. Middle school girls, outside of family, it was mostly by the Huntsmen, and while tweens seemed to find it flattering to have high school boys drag you off to their clubhouse after a boring day of school, it was still pretty rare. Most just wore the wristband for the excitement, the opportunity for an excuse to get out of a boring test or assignment if they needed it and to take advantage of the fact that the administration generally didn't enforce dress codes on wristband wearers (at least not to the same standards).

Kaitliyn, she tried to get the attention of the Huntsmen with short skirts, but without a flash of pink on her wrist, they barely even looked twice at her, so she finally took drastic measures, filming a video on her phone, a video of her on her bed, smiling face and golden hair, then panning down to reveal her naked breasts and pussy, and then, selfie-style, showing off how she could fit a big cock in that pussy, demonstrating with a very phallic hammer handle (making her video probably the best ad the local hardware store ever had, and they didn't even have to pay her). That hammer made a big impression on the watchers, showing off not only how her tight little pussy lips could handle something that size (maybe not comfortably but at least stretching without apparent difficulty), but also revealing that this was not the first time she'd had something up there. Not that anybody expected much--thirteen-year-olds can be sexually active, and there were plenty of rumors about some of her jobs coming from playing the casting couch game (which is real even for minors competing for low-level commercials, although I can't be certain Kaitlyn got any of hers that way)--but it's one thing to wonder, another thing to know. Some of us who aren't Huntsmen still consider "fair game" to not include being a girl's first time, but if she's already had it, by fair means or foul, at least you're not really corrupting any innocence unless you're pushing her into really kinky shit. And that, too, she seemed to be pushing herself into, because what made far more of an impression than the sight of that hammer handle disappearing inside, and demonstrating the capabilities of, her fuck-hole, was what she did while she masturbated. She whispered, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough that a parent couldn't, even in the next room, "No, please, you can't, you have to stop, I'm only thirteen, you could get me pregnant, please no!" And that same acting acumen that convinced people this thirteen-year-old-girl really wanted a used car from our local dealership was put to use simultaneously sounding like a girl who was being raped and a girl who should not be listened to when she said 'no' because she wanted it anyway. That's a hard nuance to get across if you don't mean it.

After a minute or two of vivid self-rape, the camera moving back and forth between closeups of her shaved cunt slurping on that handle and her distressed-seeming face, she pulled out, smiled, and said, "That could be you if you've got the balls. Just make sure you film it so I can show others what a good rape victim I make, far better than that tease Kayla," and followed that up with a listing of her upcoming schedule and where she could be most easily raped.

It was a bold play, hell, just making the video was bold, much less sending it to all she did. That's a confident girl, or maybe a girl used to performing on demand who will do anything to steal the spotlight.

It backfired on her though... or maybe she liked how it worked out in the end, but from my perspective, it was a huge waste, just because of some bad luck. See, a lot of us were considering raping her... even though we were interested in Kayla more now, she had made a compelling case for herself and those old fantasies were a powerful lure (she's also not yet fifteen, but she's one of those rare exceptions that would make me bend my moral code). If we'd moved a little faster, she might have eclipsed Kayla and truly become the face of rape.

Unfortunately, when Kaitlyn did get raped for the first time, she got raped by a black guy. Now, I'm no racist, I've got black friends, I try to treat every kid the same no matter what their race, and hell, my sweet little niece is biracial. In my book, blacks have exactly as much right to rape little girls who secretly want it as white guys do, but when I watched the next video to come from Kaitlyn, my heart sank to see her struggling with one dark hand pushing her down as a long black cock pushed its way inside her, Kaitlyn once again whispering, "no, please, you can't," as her rapist used her own phone to film himself penetrating her, waist down only, because he was committing a felony, but one neither side seemed to really mind. My heart sinking was first just from "damn, someone else got there first" and a little from "that cock's way bigger than mine." Let's not have any racist bullshit about her, a little white girl, being 'ruined' by having sex with a black man... only idiots believe that, and I've had sex with many girls who've been with blacks. Tiffany (Trish, I mean, I've never gotten around to the other one even after she started wearing the wristband) had been with a few by the time I'd been with her, and hell, one of my fellow jurors in the McCarthy rape trial was black and we inspected the evidence together and I'm sure at least once I had my cock in either Layla or Lorelei while she was still dripping with his cum (I can't recall which, and again, it was solely out of civic responsibility and diligent consideration of the evidence in the interests of assuring the defendant got a fair trial, but that didn't mean we couldn't also get off on the pursuit of justice). It's not about the color of the guy to rape her first... we all cum the same color, regardless of our skin. The problem was only because he was the one to play the race card, he made it an issue, just as he was really getting into the rape of adorable little Kaitlyn, he began to talk, forced her to admit on camera that she loved black cock, to beg him to rape a black baby in her. It was all "you repeat what I tell you to" type talk, while he pulled her hair and worked up to leaving a load of evidence inside of her, and her repeating it the kind of thing a rape victim might do just to survive, regardless of whether or not she enjoyed it. Nobody blamed her for it, and even those idiots who might have held it against her probably still would have raped her, given the chance. More likely to, now that she'd been successfully raped. Caution often wins out the first time a girl gets raped, especially in those early days... the prevailing feeling was, let someone bolder take the risk, wait a few days, and if the little girl or one of her overprotective parents doesn't call the police then you can be a little more confident they won't do it the next time, either, or the time after that.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/14(Sun)03:55 No. 25823 ID: 5758a9

Except, of course, Kaitlyn wasn't just after rapes for her own pleasure, she was trying to dethrone Kayla, start a brand for rape and banish those pink silicone bracelets to whatever dump yesterday's fads go in. To do that, she needed more than just a hot video of her own rape experience, she needed to get someone else raped with her brand. That's where Grace Lo came in. If Kaitlyn was middle school queen, Grace was her lady-in-waiting. Never likely to be queen herself, but the closest thing to a best friend you can get when the queen also gives you orders. Which isn't to say Grace was ugly. No, she was pretty, too, maybe not as pretty as Kaitlyn, depending on your tastes... her glasses and slightly pug nose could either be adorable or push her into the category of 'plain girl'. She was also taller at the same age as Kaitlyn... in fact, probably taller than most girls in her class. People often say Asians look younger but because of her height, I would have pegged Grace at maybe sixteen, despite her fine black hair often being tied up in long pigtails and her much flatter chest. Boobs aren't everything of course, and she had fine legs and a pert little ass. She was something to watch to anyone attending middle school basketball games, she just instinctively knows how to keep balls dribbling. I understand she also is pretty good at the game.

Kaitlyn pretty well owned Grace, in the way kids sometimes dominate each other socially. If Kaitlyn took a dislike to one of Grace's friends, Grace would have to drop them. If Kaitlyn didn't do her homework, Grace let her copy. The biggest surprise for some students when Kaitlyn's 'rape me' advertisement came out wasn't that she'd done it, but that Grace wasn't the one working the hammer in and out while Kaitlyn just enjoyed it to focus on her 'acting.' So, of course, Grace could never take the pink wristband, because Kaitlyn publicly swore it off... or maybe she genuinely didn't want to, it's hard to say. But we do know that when Kaitlyn asked it of her, Grace started wearing a choker that said, "Rape Bait Like Kait," which was a pretty catchy slogan, and an effective one at that. I saw her with it the first day, looking nervous either that someone would take her up on it or that she'd get in trouble with the school administration for a sign more blatant than had been allowed before. She didn't get in trouble at school. But before long, there was another video making the rounds, this one of Grace, with two black men, heads out of frame, one thrusting his cock in her pussy, the other guiding her head to slobber over his huge rod. It looked like this wasn't her first rape, she was naked except for the collar, glasses missing, her hair was disheveled, only one pigtail remaining tied, skin slick with sweat or other fluids, her mascara running like she'd been crying but the tears had dried in favor of grim acceptance of her new role, moaning as her tongue ran up and down a black dick. She looked like only after a couple hours of rape did they finally decide to film it. Or maybe they only wanted to start when she was good and compliant, mind broken by forced rape-induced orgasms until she cared more about pleasing them than whatever happened to her. Like with Kaitlyn, the men asked Grace if she loved black cock, and just nodding wasn't good enough, she had to put her tongue back in her mouth long enough to say it in those words. But they went farther, after one cum inside her pussy and moved off, the other one, the one she'd been using her mouth on, tugged on the choker that advertised her rapeability and said, "I like your collar here. Does this mean you're ready to commit to being a rape toy for black men only, just like her?" Grace nodded, but he wanted a firmer commitment, so he told her, "Say it. Tell everyone only black men can rape you, and then they can watch me rape your little fuck-hole." He handed the girl her glasses, which had a dried stream of cum from some earlier degradation we never got to see, so she could see she was on camera, and Grace wiped her mouth for a second, and said, "Only black men can rape me," and, after a little further prompting, added, "Just like Kait," then spread her pussy lips and let some cum leak out and another round of rape started, which, though entertaining to watch, was tinged by a little bit of sadness at lost opportunities.

Now, Kait had never formally declared herself black-only rape-bait, but her friend doing it for her seemed to connect her brand to that idea, not just in the mind of the rapists but everyone. I don't think Grace was trying to sabotage her, but simply thought that was Kait wanted (though you never know, maybe the meek little girl just had enough of being pushed around and chose her moment for a little payback). Suddenly everyone else she'd convinced to wear her brand on the choker (and there were a few others before the video leaked) was considered 'off-limits' to anyone but the African-American population, and not just for rape but for any sex. A choker-girl could have a white boyfriend, as long as they were strictly celibate and he didn't try to interfere if a qualified black cock wanted to force itself into one of her holes and dump a load of cum. Anyone who tried to break those rules was beaten up, often on video as a warning to others, and it only took a couple warnings before most people respected the choker's new, secondary meaning.

From what I understand, Kaitlyn was very disappointed by this development. At first. But then she decided, when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade, and if life hands you black cocks, well, you might as well squeeze on them till you get all the juice out anyway. More accurately, she realized that her chokers weren't displacing the bracelets, but they were developing their own following, and, if you can't be the brand everyone thinks of, almost as good is to be the brand everyone thinks of for one particular niche. Like sure, everyone wants to be Walmart but if you can't, being Whole Foods is pretty good because you can capture the market of people who are willing to pay far too much for allegedly healthier stuff. Kaitlyn was the go-to name on everybody's lips for black-owned rape-whores, so she decided to run with it, work a spade logo on the choker and go for that market full throated. But for the rest of us, it was a god-damn tragedy to have some of the finest underage pussy in town unavailable unless you want a beating. I mean, there were plenty of other girls as good or better not wearing the choker, so I suppose I'm not too upset over it, but I tell you, letting them have a few prime-quality underage rape whores like Kaitlyn and Grace exclusively theirs had better, finally, totally square whites and blacks for the whole centuries of slavery thing. If you ask me, we're even now.

As sore as I am over it, I totally did not support the response a few days later, those red hats that were supposed to reserve girls for only white rapists. We're a good town but we have our share of racist fucks and that was all their idea. Not that it worked. I mean at this point wearing one of their red hats basically gets the girls wearing it raped by every non-white who gets a chance at them, and ensures they drop the load right in their pussies to breed a biracial baby. In fact, I'd say it's up in the air about which group's going to have more of those, Kait's Black Rape Bait or the Red Hat Girls. Former Red Hat Girls, I mean... you don't see much of them anymore, a lot of them crossed over either to the wristbands or to the chokers formally, maybe because nobody got beaten up for violating the red hat rule except a few skinheads who tried to stop it. And nothing of value was lost. I don't believe any race is superior to any other (even that cock-size thing is mostly a myth, though some of the blacks in our town are at the very high end of the average), but if one was, those guys obsessed with white superiority have never been our best examples.

A few other attempted rape-niches got set up, but honestly it was hard to keep track of too many, which meant most died out... I remember one which was supposed to signify certain straight girls as a being a willing forced-pussy slave to other girls only, which might still be going (it's a piercing, and hard to see unless you're in a change room or gym shower with one, or, in my case, have a niece willing to show just once to explain to me why she can't put on a simple pink wristband, not all the time, just while hanging out with her uncle, for funsies... but no, apparently since she took the piercing she's only allowed to taste cum if it's in another girl's pussy... one of the few such signals you're not allowed to take off once you make the choice, apparently until marriage). And there was also a signal that was supposed to signify a guy's willingness to be raped by a girl... it was called having a penis and not being gay. I kid, a little (asexuality is valid if a bit perplexing to me, and male rape is a serious issue), but I'm pretty sure that no girl in our town ever raped a guy wearing the signal begging for it. Even the girls that were a little more into being dominant (and there are plenty) found that a little too pathetic for their tastes.

Mostly, it was just the pink Kayla wristbands that people saw, not for every girl, not even a majority, but a solid minority of girls who became well-known about town, and Kait's Rape Bait pulling up a distant second.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/14(Sun)15:02 No. 25825 ID: 82e41f

I've seen some strange fads in my day, but this has definitely been the strangest. I mean, it's rape, right? Sort of, at least. The idea should be terrifying to kids, not a trend. The perks alone can't explain all the girls flocking to it, if they didn't like it you think they'd stop after their first rape. And sure, some girls are just after sex, and are calling it rape to be cool, but even if that's your goal you usually only want it with people you choose, not letting anyone choose you. The only thing I can think of to explain it is the idea that the fad managed to turn rape from something to be feared, some abstract life-destroying menace threatening to hit you at any time, to a known quantity, a part of life everyone goes through, some multiple times. If you wear a wristband, you don't have to worry you might be raped... you only have to wonder when, and how good it'll be. Once you decide to accept rape, invite it, advertise for it, rape becomes almost a game, an exciting game, a little naughty and with some surprising amounts of pleasure, at least with the right rapist. Even girls who don't take the wristband and get raped for one reason or another because of a mistake or sheer desire, those girls can take comfort in the knowledge that what they're experiencing is something a lot of girls enjoy and invite, and it doesn't ruin those girls, so somehow it's not as traumatic when somebody grabs them and forces a cock into their pussy or asshole or mouth. A rape, whether advertised-for or not, might wind up being a lot of fun, or it might be painful and humiliating, but either way it's an intense experience, the kind that makes you feel alive, like a roller coaster... and unlike one of those, you might even get a nice tip afterward! You don't have to worry about being seriously hurt or killed, because virtually nobody has been since the trend began, and there's no shame attached anymore because it's popular as long as you don't snitch. Take your rape like a champ, and you might even be praised by other girls you respect for being 'savage AF.' Or maybe the rapist is described that way, or the rape itself. I'm not sure how the slang works, but either way it's considered a badge of honor to be raped, even if you don't take the wristband permanently. So I guess the fad almost makes sense on that level.

You might legitimately wonder about how parents allowed this to go on, though. The town's collective abandonment of eleven-year-old Kayla as inevitable rape meat is one thing, but once a significant number of other girls started getting involved, you'd think they'd take action. Okay, sure, men are pigs and can often be ruled by their dicks so maybe the rapists don't need to be explained, but most men are protective around their own little girls at least. How could so many people, mothers especially, turn their head and ignore their own children getting raped? Metaphorically turn their head and ignore it, I mean, by not taking the appropriate precautions, although sometimes it was quite literally mothers turning their head to ignore as somebody raped their pink-band-wearing preteen daughter in a movie theater beside them or while supposedly supervising them at a playground or beach or something, and sometimes not even literally turning their head to ignore it, but watching, giving suggestions, masturbating, or even filming and participating, helping their daughter only to the extent of temporarily occupying, with fingers, tongue, or dripping wet pussy one hole that might otherwise be used by another rapist's cock. I mean, that happened, although it was extremely rare. At first.

But, at first, this phenomenon was discrete enough that it was easy to pretend it wasn't happening, and at first not even to pretend. Kids wear stretchy silicone bracelets and chokers all the time, for all sorts of things, even just fashion, so I can totally understand, at first, parents not noticing what the pink one around their little girl's wrists was advertising. But outright obliviousness about what the various signifiers meant only held for so long, and especially when girls wore chokers saying 'Rape Bait Like Kait' you'd have to think mothers would try to stop it. Not Kait's mom, Georgia, obviously... she was the one who had the chokers made and got a cut from every one sold, also deciding to make the best she could of things after being initially disappointed in how circumstances limited Kait to black rapists. From what I know of her, Georgia didn't just support her daughter trying to become the face of rape, she jumped on the initial seed of Kaitlyn's jealousy, nurtured it, made pointed comments to lead her daughter into coming up with the idea of stealing Kayla's spotlight, strategized with her on how, coached her through the video, provided the hammer and then pointedly left her unsupervised for the next few days to let nature take its course, although I bet she was picturing a more diverse set of rapists. Georgia was probably a sick perverted fuck in her own right, getting off on risking her own daughter (I knew her when she was younger, and it would not surprise me), but I think a bigger part of her motivation was simply to enhance her daughter's modeling and acting career... casting directors knowing they could rape little Kait had to give her more work, even in just the low-visibility but highly-paid field of private fuck videos that could lead to more legitimate opportunities like TV or movie roles. That plan might even have been successful if not for Grace declaring herself and Kait as black-owned... there aren't a lot of black casting directors in our area, and the white ones didn't want to risk a beating. But like her daughter, Georgia rolled with the punches, embraced the niche, even started wearing the choker herself. They go out for a lot of rap videos now, weekend long shoots that pay well even if most of Kait's scenes (and Grace's, and a few other girls that Georgia is now the agent/manager for) end up on the cutting room floor. But Georgia's not the best example of parenthood... she was always a little off, probably because she had her so young... it's normal, everyday parents I'm talking about here, the kind who have family dinners and go to the PTA, the good salt-of-the-earth type that makes us such a good town, all things considered.

So how could normal parents, teachers, bystanders let this go on?

I think that all goes back to Kayla. See, as I said, most of the town wrote her off, before the wristband nonsense started, decided to ignore what happened to her because "she asked for it," even root for it to happen. Problem is, once you've made that leap, to allow an eleven-year-old to get raped because she clearly wants it... well, it's like eating that first bacon cheeseburger. You're sure as hell no vegan anymore, and maybe you felt a little guilty because you loved it so much, so what do you do when another comes along, or a burger joint opens up near you? You make the same moral compromises. So when other girls started advertising "I'm with Kayla" most people put them in the same category they consigned that little girl to, now that the category existed. For other people's kids, at least.

For the kids you genuinely care about, you wanted to protect them... but let's think about how you do that, for something like this? Once you know the wristbands sure, forbid your daughter from wearing one. So maybe the little rapebait you raised slips it on her wrist when she leaves for school and off again before she comes home, makes sure to wash away any semen stains and makes up excuses about competitive soccer games if she's walking funny or comes home late with unexplained bruises. You accept this because, obviously, your daughter's not one of those sluts asking for a rape like other girls, you raised her right, didn't you? Maybe you have doubts, but you push them down.

As long as you have faith your little girl isn't one of Them, you can even think of the growing perverted trend as a good thing... beyond the obvious advantages if you choose to partake yourself. In either direction, since plenty of adults started using the wristbands or chokers or other signs, on their own terms to get the experiences they crave but tell themselves they shouldn't want. Men aren't the only ones who like a little illegal fun with kids so young the law would call it a felony, but who's felony is it if you're just going about your business enjoying a simple fashion trend, or showing your support for a local celebrity who's been unfairly isolated, and a young teen boy, brimming with hormones, that you happen to find yourself alone with, pushes you down and rapes you? Certainly not yours. Maybe it cancels out, nobody's felony. And if you're a female teacher who wears the band, what are you going to do, not give detention to the handsome fourteen-year-old troublemakers (and members of the Huntsmen club) that you have in your class? That would be forsaking your duty to mold these minds and provide discipline and even with some of the younger kids, if it's a particularly rowdy day and you've got four or five boys in detention to supervise, just enough they could totally overpower you if they get the wrong idea about what you mean by wearing the wristband, well, that's just the risk you take teaching. Better you than some girl, though sometimes you have to bring one of them along to detention, too, you can't show favoritism. These are all hypothetical examples, and I'm not pointing any fingers, especially not at your neighbor, Mrs. Culpepper (who by the way, if you see her, tell her that her class would like to wish their best on her maternity leave). Not to mention, the tips probably help out a lot... we just don't pay our teachers enough. Or maybe you aren't a teacher, maybe not even interested in younger stuff, but wear the wristband in public to attract a certain type of grown man, you still might appreciate that it was the young girls who started this trend and don't want to move too much to stifle them.

But say you don't crave rape for yourself, either giving or getting, and trust your kid to be like you, you still might convince yourself the trend of girls wanting to be rape bait's a good thing to have going on. Even the bands themselves even make a sick kind of sense... sure, it's advertising, but once people know that plenty of these girls are out there, letting them advertise that fact is kind of important, so nobody mistakes your girls for one of Them. Clamp down on the wristbands, the chokers, the obvious signs of who's on what side, and what do you get? Word of mouth, or anonymous Internet posts revealing that so-and-so wants to raped, and who knows if they actually do or if somebody just had a grudge against them? But if there's a visible signal, and you trust in your kid not to wear one, then you know they're safe... mostly safe anyway (mistakes, as I said, happen). After all, any monster who would rape a nine-year-old girl is obviously going to go for one of the little baby sluts wearing a wristband that implies she wants it and wouldn't tell on him, rather than your perfect nine-year-old who you never see wearing a pink bracelet. Knowing that, you don't have to watch your good kids obsessively and feel safer letting them run around alone, like kids used to in better days.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/14(Sun)19:32 No. 25827 ID: 82e41f

And for many in town, they're absolutely right about their own kids. It's a trend, but only a minority go for it (not counting those who just wear the wristbands around specific people they trust, at least, which I have no way to measure). It's certainly not most of the town girls, though sometimes it seems like it, it's just a solid chunk, fewer the younger you get (though there's a weird statistical bump right around 12-13 where girls not wearing something advertising their availability almost get to be the minority... the numbers also starts rising again for adults starting in their late twenties but it's not as consistent a trend and by this time parental reaction is irrelevant), so many parents are fully justified in their faith and trust in their own kids. But not all of them, and some are absolutely wrong about which kid they need to watch out for. And kids may want to, but they're not the best at hiding the evidence of repeated rapes (smells are a giveaway that kids neglect most, I find... so's a pregnancy, but that takes a few months after starting the bad behavior, some kids tip off attentive parents by smell the first day, or a little later by regularly laying out cum-soaked ten dollar bills to buy something they shouldn't be able to afford on their allowance). Nor are rapists always so careful when they've gotten used to getting away with it and they see their favorite rape meat out and they don't notice that she's not wearing a bracelet because it's not a good time with parents nearby (or because they're someone else entirely who looks close enough, as Lorelei discovered). Then of course, there's also tattling from other kids, siblings, fellow parents, even rapists with pangs of conscience. So, inevitably, some parents come to the shocking realization that their little girl is Like Kayla. Significantly more parents come to what should be an equally shocking realization that their boy has become a rapist, but a lot of time the attitude there is, as long as it's with a pink-wristband-girl... hey, boys will be boys.

So what does one do when they discover their child's been wearing the band, maybe already getting cocks thrust in every underage hole anytime someone can pin her down, maybe just endangering herself with the possibility to look cool (especially in the early stages of this whole phenomenon before the Huntsmen, when rapists were more shy and focused on the impossible dream of getting Kayla). And assuming some parental disappointment and a firm talking-to doesn't stop the behavior, of course. Sometimes it does, although sometimes a less ideal compromise is reached, for example, like Tina Crichton, who agreed to swear off the wristband, and get on The Pill, only if her parents allowed her big brother to sexually enslave her at home and rape her there all he wanted, and never interfere, even if it was at the kitchen table during dinner... or if he brought friends over. That boy got popular real quick, although he's a bit selfish with her. But back to my point... if all that other stuff fails, then, pretty much your only options are to lock your daughter down, take her out of school and isolate her like Kayla was (which few wanted to do, seeing how hard it was on Nicole), try to move your family or daughter out of town (which some did, though many couldn't, and that is no guarantee the behavior will stop in the new town, it might just spread like a virus), or find some way to live with it. That doesn't mean giving up, surrendering your daughter to rapes, but like a lot of parenting, accepting that there is going to be trouble and just doing your best to minimize it and the negative consequences, punish bad behavior when you catch it, prevent what rapes you can and trusting the school and police other organizations to do their best the rest of the time.

And they do their best, they really do. Sure, a lot of rapes happen at school, but that's just because it's difficult for a limited staff to monitor everywhere a rape might happen, especially if nobody reports it until after. But when they catch a rape in the act the protocol is to report it and issue detentions or suspensions or parental advisories (sometimes that's the best thing, to impress a young rapist on the dangers, send him home and let his mom know so she can fuck with his mind by putting a bracelet on herself. Of course, sometimes that backfires, too). It's reasonably safe during school hours... by about ten minutes after the school day ends the most vigilant of staff goes home and so, then, something might happen in detention and the protocol let slide, and the Huntsmen tend to be free to drag a girl to one of their meetings... but during the school day, itself, rapists are taking a risk and it's pretty rare outside of bathrooms and isolated corners during recess and lunch. Which I guess isn't that rare, all in all, but at least it doesn't interfere much with education, the school's just making the best of a bad situation. Some people disagree, considering the dress codes, and, sure, those have gradually significantly relaxed for girls wearing bands or chokers, but there's a good reason for that, and they still insist on some standards. For example, for those in wristbands or chokers (hats too, before it was decided that it was a hate symbol), skirts must extend to, when standing up straight, at least half an inch below the ass if no underwear is worn, and at least mid-ass if you're wearing underwear (and, for all this liberality, thongs are strictly forbidden except in the last year of middle school and in the high school). And shirts can show belly or cleavage but must in all cases cover the nipples (though mesh, which is presently only allowed in middle and high school girls, is typically considered 'covering' the nipples, even if they're visible and blatantly poking through fishnets... it's the principle of the thing, you can't allow underage girls to be topless in school, after all... for a similar reason, the top has to wrap around the body, so just tape-on-the-nipples isn't allowed, although I understand that's up for reconsideration at the next board meeting). More importantly, they do make sure everyone else, the kids who haven't chosen to wear a sign inviting rapes, wears a wardrobe conservative enough you'd think we weren't a town with a rape problem at all. Girls have to wear pants or skirts that have built-in shorts, shirts tucked in, and can't even show a bra-strap much less a bra, and no makeup allowed at all. Boys likewise must keep covered, though there's not a lot they need to keep covered, and they can unzip pretty quickly if a good opportunity presents itself... the main rule is not to have your cock out where somebody in authority can see it.

There's a lot of good reasons for these different rules for the school's rape-bait population. Firstly, the theory is, the rapes are impossible to prevent, they're going to happen either way, so they might as well allow them to happen with as little disruption to the educational process as they can manage. Cum wipes easily off skin but sinks into clothes, so why not let them minimize the amount of clothes they can stain? Not to mention the time for the rape itself, if it's going to happen, it's agreed it's best to happen as quickly as possible. During a switch between classes, if a rapist does get a chance to pin a girl down alone somewhere unobserved, he can just secure her, bend her over, pull a thong to the side if she's wearing one, ram his cock in her pussy, fill her with cum, then both can be back to class, before anybody saw them and had to file a report, whereas a normal, conservative girl, it's an effort and probably not worth the risk. Slipping a wristband on the hands of someone against their will is also much less likely to work, or be believed, if the girl doesn't dress the part of her own choice (not that it isn't tried a couple times a month). The school's overworked and it has to prioritize the town's good girls.

Police are overworked too, and they too, do their best. Do you know how much paperwork a rape accusation brings with it? That's probably why, as long as it isn't happening blatantly in public and is at least in an alley or behind a few bushes (I believe the unofficial technical standard passed down by the Sheriff is 'as long as it's not visible from sidewalk or street at a distance of more than 60 feet', which allows it to go on in cars or if there's a big enough crowd of observing onlookers), if a cop encounters a grown man, or several men, stuffing a little girl full of cock, even if she's clearly several years below the age of legal consent or even a few shy of puberty, he's liable to just clear his throat (or tap on a window if it's a car) and wait for them to reposition and show off her neck or arm for a choker or pink band. Maybe if they're especially by-the-book the officer might ask that the rapists take their hand off her mouth or clear her throat of the cock halfway down it, so she has a chance, if that is the case, to say they put the bracelet on her, she's not REALLY With Kayla or Like Kait. If she doesn't, and everything looks in order, the cop might supervise to make sure nobody gets actually hurt, but more often than not, let everyone get off with a warning rather than filing charges. That might seem to some people like a horrible abdication of their responsibility, but all police everywhere have to manage their resources in the fight on crime. It's just like how if a town had a drug problem. Lots of good towns these days have opioid problems, or meth problems, but they're still good towns, most people behaving well most of the time. If cops went and arrested every drug user, they'd never get anything else done, so instead they focus on where they can do the most good, tackle the worst offenders and the people who can't keep it under control. Our town has a bit of a rape problem or maybe an underage slut problem, but the same principles all apply (I mean, there's also a slight drug problem, and I suspect those first rapists to cross the line were in the grips of it, but we're better off than most towns). It doesn't mean we're not mostly a good town, and it certainly doesn't mean the cops are doing nothing to combat the problem, they just pick their battles. And like with drugs, sometimes the cops get a little dirty... I know a few who won't just supervise but join in, maybe not with outright rape, they're still officers of the law, but getting the little fucktoy's permission, under the theory that if a girl is too little to handle one more cock (or eat a little pussy if it's Officer Travis), she's obviously also too young to be doing this sort of thing without her parents knowing. Of course, if it's an adult woman getting raped with a wristband they probably won't even bother asking permission. Still, even though sometimes they fall to temptation, I assure you, if a girl or her parents choose to file a formal complaint they absolutely do make arrests for rape, and sometimes people are even convicted. One of the black guys in the video with Grace is in jail now... not for her, mind you, but because he mistook the choker on another girl for being a Like Kait choker (depending on your viewpoint that's either evidence that the system works occasionally, or that blacks are more likely to be punished than whites for the same crimes). However, for some reason, more and more these days, even good parents who know their daughter has been raped, and know who did it, often make the decision not to put their daughter through the prospect of a trial, feeling it would only victimize their child again to no benefit. I can't imagine why, but I believe in the justice system... sure, we have to make sure the defendant gets a fair trial rather than convicting without reasonable doubt, but that's how justice works. So maybe you count that as giving up, but it's one reason out of many why exhausted parents just look the other way (metaphorically and sometimes literally).


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/15(Mon)01:21 No. 25828 ID: 7fe3a7

Sometimes giving up's probably even the best call, every parent or teacher knows that kids can be stubborn as hell and sometimes when you forbid something things backfire and they'll do it to spite you. Like with Bailey Collins. Sweet little thing, came late to the wristbands but fell hard into it with the enthusiasm of a convert. Thirteen, tomboyish, previously only seen in jeans and fun t-shirts, and with her undeveloped chest and short dark hair could have been mistaken for a slightly-shaggy boy if not for her girly face with luscious lips and green doe-eyes, and of course her tight ass and puffy pussy when she finally started showing them off. Her BFF Suzanne Thomas took the band first, and after a couple weeks watching her friend enjoy rapes from the sidelines (both literally and metaphorically) Bailey got curious enough to try it... or maybe she just wanted to connect with a friend she was losing touch with. She knew her mother wouldn't approve, but Suzanne convinced Bailey to just try her wristband on while spending time for a sleepover, which of course got Bailey raped by Suzanne's stepfather (I mean, I assume, I wasn't there and Dave never bragged, so maybe it wasn't him and the two girls snuck out and got her raped by a neighbor or something). After her first taste of rape, Bailey started wearing the wristband on her own on a regular basis. Always slipping it on outside of her mother's sight and off again before she got home, and likewise did what a lot of girls did, changed clothes in the bathroom to take advantage of the better dress code policies for With Kaylas, seeming to revel in looking girly for once, loving short skirts, no underwear, even makeup which made her look like a little whore, especially when it started running from a particularly aggressive rape. Everyone at school knew what she was (especially because she like sitting in class with her legs spread) but her mom had no clue, until Bailey got caught getting ass-fucked by the dumpsters during the lunch hour. That was usually a relatively safe place for an unobserved rape but one of the female teachers needed a smoke, saw the two high school Huntsmen on the wrong campus, one holding Bailey's upper body pinned against the dumpster while the other shot a thick load in her colon. The boys were out of the teacher's jurisdiction, so she couldn't punish them (some say she didn't want to, and punishing Bailey was only because the little girl got the rape she was hoping for herself), but she followed protocol and reported the incident to Bailey's mom, Ruth, and held her after school until she could be picked up, still wearing the short skirt, no underwear, sports-bra top, and forbidden pink bracelet, and that was that, secret blown. What followed was a mother-daughter tug of war over her increasingly outrageous behavior and what was to be done about it. A single mother with no close relatives can't go the full Nicole route, so isolating Bailey 24-7 wasn't an option, but Ruth did what she could, what she thought best, taking Bailey out of school, grounding her, and forbidding the wristband with the promise that Bailey would be sent to an out-of-state boot camp for troubled kids if she ever wore it again. That was a bad move for two reasons, it was a bluff (those places are expensive and not all parents can afford it) and sensing that, Bailey pushed back hard. One afternoon Ruth was out, and Bailey was grounded, but snuck out and over to the home of a local high school dropout (or rather flunkout, since it was because of grades, not choice... since this started, fewer and fewer boys willingly drop out of school, so you see, there's is some benefit to our town's problem). In addition to selling drugs, this young man had started making a little extra cash doing stick-and-poke tattoos for friends. Bailey got "I'm With Kayla" and "Rape Me" tattooed permanently on her wrist, paying for it with the virgin pussy of her ten-year-old sister Brooke, who she was supposed to be home babysitting, a responsibility her mother thought would keep her out of trouble. Ruth was wrong on that call. Brooke's identical tattoo, Bailey paid with her own pussy (it was a discount since Brooke was younger and it needed less ink). That permanent branding of both her daughters in one afternoon broke Bailey's mom's heart, and worst of all, it happened just before the two were due to spend their monthly weekend with their father. After that weekend, their dad successfully sued for full custody (even though he's only the biological father of Bailey, he's on the birth certificate for both), using the incident as an example of her parental negligence. Now both girls are back in school and proudly wearing the slutty outfits and wristbands (for long distance visibility more than anything else, since tattoos are forever). As for Ruth? She's a lonely drunk, at the bar night after night, constantly bitching about how her ex is now pimping out of her darling daughters to his poker buddies. I don't know if that's true or not, but there's now a waiting list to get into his regular Tuesday night game, and the girls are noticeably sleepy-looking in class on Wednesday mornings. I do know at least three guys who got on that waiting list after a one-night stand with Ruth that included listening to her complaints, which sometimes seemed less like complaints and more like suggestions.

So you can see how sometimes parents might have trouble making the decision of how hard to fight this trend when their own children are caught up in it, like some even think if they see their daughter going this way it might be better to just nudge her into being Like Kait because then at least the pool of potential rapists is much smaller (indeed, she'll be actively protected from some of them). Another particularly hard choice arises when only one of your kids is going down this path, and you might be able to save the other, but you have to decide if the right call is punish it heavily so the other one isn't tempted, or let it slide and focus on protecting the 'good' ones who are still inclined to follow their parents instructions. Equally hard to figure out in advance is if your good ones are the type who are more likely to stray if you give the bad ones any extra attention at all, or if ignoring the bad ones entirely might give them cause to outright corrupt their siblings. That happens too, not every time, but at least in almost every permutation, not just sisters being tempted by the fun their sisters seem to be having, but boys in the Huntsmen raping their little sisters until they like it enough to start wearing a wristband, and at least one sixteen-year-old With Kayla who decided she needed to train her geeky little brother to be a good rapist and build his confidence. Andy is more confident now, but still a geek, and he corrupted Jess too, a little... she's is now a regular at his middle school D&D club (one of the few places where a girl can be raped without even a wristband as long as her character is being raped by another player or a monster played by the Dungeon Master at the same time... they can leave the game at any time, so I suppose it's not really rape, just good roleplaying). So maybe that one didn't work out so bad... at least, it could have gone far worse. Every family's a little different and you don't always know what works for yours until you take one path and risk the consequences.

That's our town in general now, full of tough choices, ones not everyone makes correctly, but it's still a good town, mostly. I think so anyway... got its problems, but I can take it. The ones who couldn't, moved away, or go so deep into denial it's almost sad. I know one woman who swears the town changed overnight a few weeks ago due to some magical curse after she put a suggestion in the church suggestion box that the town should offer moral support to girls like Kayla. Ridiculous, her daughters had both been blatantly wearing the wristbands for months, and I've never seen a suggestion box in our church, but she's got this idea if she can find it again she can undo it all. I guess madness makes a good escape for some. The rest of us just try and get by. Church helps, no magical box and not just things like confession, but lately the sermons have been particularly guilt-assuaging for those who finally decide to make a difficult choice and just let their daughter be raped on a regular basis if that's what she seems to want, or are on the precipice of such a decision.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/15(Mon)08:56 No. 25830 ID: d28b20

Which brings us back to Kayla. Now, for the longest time, that little girl that started all this had no idea what an icon she'd become, or that all her dreams were coming true for other girls her age. If she did, she might have pried up the nails on her windows, slipped out, gotten raped by the first guy that recognized her, or maybe a crowd, or maybe she'd escape them all and find that little delinquent doing the stick-and-poke tattoos and gotten a poke and a tattoo as well and maybe some drugs to boot to make it a really memorable experience. She wouldn't need an "I'm With Kayla" tattoo of course, but maybe just "I Am Kayla, Rape Me." But she didn't know enough to want it. She was kept isolated, from the Internet, from her friends who could not be trusted, and though she may have seen the wristbands and chokers on rare excursions she didn't know what they meant. And despite having many other perverted options available, everyone I talked to still wanted to crack that nut, or nut that crack. But for the longest time we had no luck at all, subsisting on the dream and the occasional masturbation video from undiscovered hidden cameras (which, let's be honest, are like any celebrity porn, far more interesting because of just who's involved than on its own merits... she didn't know she was being filmed, so she doesn't make any cool poses or elaborate dirty talk... often you couldn't even see what we all wanted to drown in cum, just her rubbing a spot under her panties).

Her mother Nicole knew about the growing rape epidemic, but probably not the full extent of it since she had lost touch with most of her friends, either because she could not longer trust them not to be trying to use her to get to Kayla, or because she simply didn't have time to keep up the relationships while watching her. But because of what she did know, Nicole shielded her daughter even more carefully when they went out from that than actual rapists, steered her away from anyone wearing a wristband or who might mention them, which was growing to be more and more people, and leaned more and more heavily on Grandma Martha to watch Kayla while Nicole did necessary errands. She still had some hope of moving, eventually, getting some money from relatives to make a start in another city (some of those offers came with kinky strings attached and even some of those were getting considered for the sake of her daughter), but all of those ideas would come to nothing if Kayla herself hadn't changed. Cursing the sex-obsessed media for luring her daughter into this lifestyle, Nicole started on a last-ditch effort to deprogram Kayla through withdrawal, giving her nothing but wholesome entertainment, which mostly meant Disney movies.

That stopped when they started to be the focus of Kayla's disturbing comments. Ever since her interests were revealed in front of them and the whole town, she felt a little more free to say whatever dirty thought came into her head. Not to shock, I think, but it wasn't like they didn't know what she was into, or that they could punish her much more than they already were so she was free to be herself, more. Sometimes it might get her sent to her room instead of being able to watch TV, but most of these interjections her parents tried to ignore, even early on when she might say, for example, that someone on TV looked like he'd be a particularly fun rapist and punishing her by not letting her watch made sense. Grandma Martha would punish something like that with a spanking, but Walter either sent her to her room or pretended he didn't hear depending on his mood and the severity, and Nicole mostly just ignored it regardless. Maybe she thought her daughter would become less interested in saying such things it if she didn't react, but by the time they went on the all-Disney diet, her random voiced thoughts started getting significantly weirder. Like when she asked if Nicole thought Robin Hood, the fox from the 70s Disney version, had a bigger cock than the lion, Prince John, or the wolf Sheriff of Nottingham, because otherwise why would Marian want to be with him rather than one of the others who were more likely to rape her rather than treat her with respect? Or when she asked if the TV producers ever let Bolt rape Penny, because he thought he was the hero and even heroes need to rape a girl now and then, and every dog needs a good bitch. Both of those were ignored without comment, and probably shouldn't have been, but Nicole just didn't know what to say and with no one else in the room letting it slide seemed the best course. The final straw was after Zootopia, when her father asked at dinner what she thought of it, and she said she wished she could be Judy Hopps because then when animals went savage they would just rape her, and it might be fun to be raped while someone's pulling on your bunny ears or lifting your butt up by your poofy tail, going on excitedly on that theme while she ate her food, seemingly oblivious to the inappropriateness of fantasizing about being raped by anthropomorphic animals while at dinner with your parents, and finally Walter slammed his fist on the table and told her to go to her room without finishing dinner.

After sending her away, her parents stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, before having the conversation that would finally let the town get what it wanted... at least if they had it significantly earlier. It started as a joke from Walter, or a remark carefully given in a tone of voice that he could claim it was a joke, to break the intolerable tension. "Look, it may be too late to keep her from winding up as Rape Bait Like Kait," he said, for like all fathers he wasn't entirely hip to trends and didn't realize the more specific implications of that particular brand, "but I'll be damned if my daughter winds up as a goddamn furry. I'll rape her myself if I have to."

He expected a reaction from his wife, a look of disgust at best, screaming at him at worst, but sometimes married couples need a screaming match just to let out the demons. "You're not raping our daughter," she said, but with a curious lack of passion, that made Walter even warier of a trap. "It would be totally counterproductive to have her first time being with your mediocre cock."

"What's wrong with my cock?"

"It's fine, Walter. That's the problem, it's pure middle of the road. She's already had a bigger and better cock inside her, even if it was made out of rubber. If you rape her, it's not going to quench her thirst, it won't even make her think the reality can't live up to the fantasy, because she'll know there's better out there. And let's face it, you'd probably be too gentle with her, you can't even bear to spank her butt." And with that, Walter relaxed a little, figuring he got off light for his comment, a little insult about his manhood, but a gentle one. Until Nicole went on, "If we're going to let her get raped, we need to choose people who'll do it effectively. And that means we need to get on the same page about whether we want to fulfill her dreams with the most satisfying possible rape, or attempt to scare her straight, so to speak, with a rape so bad she won't want to be near men ever again afterwards. Either way, I have ideas, but we need to decide what we want for her to narrow down exactly who gets to fuck her."

Walter's fork hung suspended between plate and gaping mouth for a full ten seconds, before he managed, "Wha...?"

"Personally, I think we should go with option A. In order to scare her enough it might have to be really violent and painful, and I don't think I have the heart to do that to her, even if it might save her later. It could wind up scarring her for life, or worse, she might like it. Either way, I'm not sure we can trust the kind of person who could do it that way not to hurt her too badly or to stop at just one rape. And even if the plan works perfectly, and does turn her away from wanting sex, who knows how long that might last? Potentially forever, Walter. Then she might not ever want to have kids so, if we ever want grandchildren we better be sure to choose someone who can knock her up the first time, and schedule around that. On the other hand, if it's a rape she enjoys, sure, it might get her to tempt a lot more people to violate her little body, but we can monitor the situation, keep her on the pill, and hope she eventually just gets tired of provoking rape and finds a good boyfriend and a normal life."

"Wait, are we really talking about this?" Walter asked, and I don't entirely blame him for suspecting it was some kind of trick.

Nicole just shrugged, and even sounded like someone who was just tired of fighting. "I guess so," she said. "I've been thinking, a lot, lately, about what Reverend Chapman said."

"That we should let him safely convert Kayla to normative heterosexuality before she goes down the path of lesbian debauchery?"

"No, more recently than that."

"That the best thing for everyone might be that a group of godly men should really rape the devil out of our little girl and save the town's soul in the process?"

"No, more recently than that. The stuff about Lot."

"That Lot's daughters really didn't do so bad by having sex with their father, they founded two whole dynasties out of it and more girls should follow their example?"

"No, just before that. The part about Lot being the only righteous man in Sodom, despite him offering up his virgin daughters to be gang-raped." It was a common theme in sermons lately, a new look at a classical Biblical story as a parable for what was going on in the town. You'll hear it soon enough if you go to church, and, of course, so will your kids, but to give the short version, the biblical canon is that, Lot offered up his daughters to a rape gang to protect two angels... and they were his virgin daughters, too. Given the time period's beliefs about marriageable age, and how lustful the town was, that likely meant they weren't much older than the age of puberty, yet he offered them up to the mob, though they didn't take it, all fired up about angel booty and accepting no substitutes. Clearly he was willing to go through with it though, and this still rendered him worthy enough to be saved from the destruction of the city. So, clearly, the theory went, God's divine judgment is that allowing your children to be raped, to protect angels at least, is morally good, and aren't innocent children something like angels themselves? If you let people rape your children to protect other, more innocent, children, you're probably doing what God wants. I've talked online with other Biblical scholars who've claimed that's bullshit, heresy even, and even moreso is his theory that God wanted Lot's daughters to get incestuously pregnant because otherwise He would have prevented it and wouldn't have gotten Lot's salty wife out of the picture. Most also disagree with his speculation that the Lot family incest almost certainly happened more times than mentioned in the Bible and with daddy's full consent after the first two nights and God's implicit sanction, or his reasoning that the incestuous children of Lot had to be smart, righteous, mighty and charismatic to each found a whole people named after them, even if those people later went astray. I'm no expert, so I don't know who to believe... I just know Chapman's interpretation is remarkably persuasive to people who want to believe in the general theory that it's possible for our town to still be holy, sanctified, righteous, even if all of us were like Lot and even if we enjoyed a rape now and then or had sex with our daughters or fathers... as long as we worshipped Jesus while we did it, repented afterwards, and took care to leave the innocent angels among us alone. Chapman's favorite line is that if Sodom was full of people as righteous as Lot, it wouldn't have been destroyed but instead would have been a second Jerusalem. He's even suggested changing the name of the town to Lot's Jerusalem, or Lot's 'Salem for short, but I think that was a joke... you'd never expect it, but he's also a big Stephen King geek.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/15(Mon)19:59 No. 25831 ID: 5b8b56

"Okay," Walter said, after Nicole gave her justification for opening the rape talks, "But let's not forget that Lot's daughters had sex with him."

I can understand Walter focusing on the regular good-daughters-bring-your-fathers-beers-until-you-can-talk-them-into-fucking-you-by-the-way-condoms-are-still-wrong part of the sermon, even though it was a more recent addition (and, I believe, influenced by the church administration, who are laymen, no pun intended), but it sure looked like Nicole was ready to give up on protecting Kayla, which, to me, was a far more exciting development. "Maybe we can discuss that later, if her appetite for rapes is more than we expect, but we're not starting there, Walter. But you still haven't answered, do you agree with me that we should make her first rape a good experience rather than a bad one?"

Well, the man had just been teased with the possibility that if Kayla still liked rape, her daddy might be allowed to do it, so what do you expect, he said, "Yes, absolutely. I still think I could provide a good first experience though."

"No, you're not thinking. What if it winds up not living up to her fantasies at all? If you do it, and she regrets getting raped, don't you think she's going to hate you? No, we can't be directly involved. Not in the first one, anyway. We just need to choose who's going to do the job, and find an excuse to leave her alone with them, and let nature take its course, and we can pretend we just had no idea what she was up to. If she's still happy afterwards, we can tell her we set it up and see what happens."

"Her birthday's only a few weeks away, we could claim it was an early birthday present and save some money."

Nicole's eyes rolled, but she said, "Sure, Walter. Anyway, I'm thinking five is a good number of men. We'll start with men and if we need to experiment with women and family afterwards, we'll consider that, but five strangers, or passing acquaintances, that seems like a good first rape experience. That way she get every hole filled at once, and can be stroking a hard cock with each hand at the same time. Any less might leave her wondering if she missed out on part of the full gang rape experience, any more and we can't trust her rapists not to get out of hand. Any suggestions on who?"

Seeing an opportunity to fulfill a promise made under blackmail, Walter suggested, "What about that girl Lauren's father? You know, the one who was the model for the dildo?"

"Yes, Frank, good call. I was thinking of him too. We know Kayla can handle his size, he knows how to be rough but not too rough, and he's got enough stamina to make the rape last long enough that Kayla might cum."

"Wait... how do you know what Frank's 'stamina' is like?"

"Don't act all offended, Walter. Yes, I've been fucking Frank. But you've been fucking his underage daughter for long before that. At least in my case, it was an honest rape, every time I've visited him. Which, if I understand, you promised not to stand in the way of, if he got the chance. Well, he got the chance when he told me that. By the way, don't get your hopes up about little Lauren's child actually being yours, either, I get raped by another guy who swears it's his, but Frank did get your promise, so let's put him on the list. Now, I think we're also going to want someone with a really, almost absurdly big cock, just so Kayla doesn't feel like she's missing out on anything. And we should include some diversity. Luckily, I know a guy who fits both categories, and who I think can be trusted not to hurt her with his big black cock. I could barely fit half of it in my mouth the first few times and..."

"The first few times? Jesus, Nicole, how many men have you been fucking around with? And how often?"

"Look, I spend all fucking day watching that girl, I need some 'me time' too. Sometimes I just need to leave her with Grandma Martha and spend some time in the company of adults... it just turns out that a number of my adult friends like to rape. It's only a few times a week, and at least everything I do is perfectly legal. I don't sneak over to Frank's place while I'm supposed to be working to fuck a pregnant twelve year old, like you do, I just go to visit him or someone like him, and happen to get raped... sometimes while a pregnant twelve-year-old watches. Or sometimes I need a walk in the park after dark, and what happens, happens."

"Bullshit, you've been wearing one of those wristbands, haven't you?"

"I never said I didn't. What, do you expect me to not wear a wristband in support of my own daughter? It's only been very recently though. I got curious, what can I say? But if it'll set your mind at ease, I've only been raped by a dozen guys at most, maybe a few times each. And back to the issue at hand, Mike is the biggest, but he never pushed more than he had to in order to get the head in. Any part of his black horse cock that I couldn't fit in during the rape without wincing he was happy to let me just use my hands on to get him off. I think we can trust him with Kayla, as much as we can trust any child-rapist. If he even is one, I've never seen him actually raping a child, so, another point in his favor."

Walter obviously didn't like it, but a lot of the fight had gone out of him when he realized that some of the biggest secrets he'd been keeping from his wife weren't really secrets after all, that she could go to the police with them just as easily as Frank could, and to top it all off, the conversation they were having looked like it might lead to a better status quo than the one they'd been living since the fateful day of Kayla's speech. So, he agreed, and they discussed who would make up the rest of Kayla's first rape.

No, sadly, I was not on the list. Even with everything that happened after, that still disappoints me. But I was hardly the only one disappointed. The remaining three rapists-to-be were a father and son team (Nicole wanted someone closer to Kayla's own age, so they chose a high school freshman in the Huntsmen with a father she knew from the park), and they decided, fuck it, why not make some money off of it. They'd hardly be the first family to do so... not only is there Georgia and Kait, and probably a few I don't know about, there's the Cockburn Bed and Breakfast which is so expensive but mostly because Tom and Lucy Cockburn make a point of leaving their guests alone the first night, with only their wristband-wearing daughters to serve any needs required, both for the men and women, and return only to serve a hearty breakfast in the morning... even if it's desired in bed with one of girls. In that same spirit, knowing firsts are rare and valuable, Walter and Nicole made the last choice one of the town's wealthier citizens who would be willing to pay well for the privilege. That settled, they went on to discuss the best way to go about that rape, but by that point I was already wallowing in sorrow and pouring myself a sad glass of whiskey over not being picked, not even being considered.

I was hardly the only one disappointed, once word got out that this was finally happening, Kayla was finally getting what was coming to her after turning our town upside down. Which meant I was wanted for another reason. I've always been a little bit of a techie nerd. Lots of people tried to put hidden cameras in Kayla's house, during the open houses, but mine were the only ones that didn't get discovered pretty quickly (I have a secret, and I'd tell you, but then it wouldn't be a secret). I didn't just limit myself to Kayla's bedroom like most people, but also a couple other key rooms in the house, just to be thorough. What, how do you think I knew those private conversations?

Now I tried to keep my success there relatively quiet, I didn't want people pestering me for up-to-the-minute updates so they could plan their perfect rape... if anyone was going to do that, I would. I might have even warned the family about somebody hiding in the house, pretending I was watching from outside and never noticed them leave. It was one reason I was disappointed that I was never considered, after all I'd done to help them... you might call me a hero. Or maybe you think I'm just a pervert obsessing over watching a little girl. But I wasn't obsessing that much... mostly, I just kept it as a little hobby, fast-forwarding through footage for anything that looked juicy, sometimes watching the live feed with dinner (which was how I caught this particular conversation). Still, I couldn't resist sharing with a few people, especially when I got some particularly hot footage, and so once the people chosen for the big debut rape were informed and began talking to their friends, sooner or later somebody I told and somebody they told got together and they came to me with a plan... wire up the designated rape den with cameras in advance, capture Kayla's first rape on tape (I still claim Lauren was the first, but 'Kayla's First Rape On Tape' does have a better ring to it). What's more, go one better... so many people wanted to be part of the event, but Nicole and Walter were pretty set on limiting it to six people (counting Kayla), and so the idea came about, and snowballed as ideas sometimes do, first of having a party to watch the proceedings live, and then quickly jumped to doing a semi-private live screening in the town's movie theater. The theater's owner wanted to witness the big debut just like everybody, and rented it for free in exchange for some of the ticket sales.


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Anonymous 18/10/15(Mon)19:59 No. 25832 ID: b66513

>>25830
Was...was this whole story a fucking Stephen King joke? Oh, you magnificent bastard.


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/15(Mon)20:05 No. 25833 ID: 5b8b56

I thought it was just going to be a handful of perverts wanking in a dark room, but demand was high enough that we actually had to discriminate. That happened almost naturally, because the people we planned to leave out were the people who were least likely to hear the gossip anyway... but the plan quickly became to restrict the event to locals only, no out-of-towners, even near-neighbors to the town who frequently visit to enjoy our town's rapebait girls, like kids from the college or residents of that pedophiles-on-parole trailer park a few miles away. And of course, we didn't want any of the small percentage of local killjoys who had a problem with the town watching a young girl's first rape. We just wanted the real hardcore Kayla fans who were here since the beginning. And kids, of course, some brought by their own parents, some just brought. There was no cover charge for underage girls, but they were only allowed in if they wore a pink wristband (which also meant that anyone who wore the Like Kait chokers had to be open to all that night if they wanted to watch the show... sadly Kait herself, as well as Grace, refused to come and they were the only ones I was interested in, and besides, I had to be up in the booth making sure everything was set up so the show could run smoothly, so I couldn't get distracted with a fun little pre-show rape like others did. To keep undesirables out, we had the theater's marquee list Great Expectations, since that's what everybody had for the event, and movies based on classic books tend to bomb in our town. From what I hear a few passing tourists wandered in accidentally, thinking it was the real movie, got admitted, and had an eye-opening experience, but they turned out to enjoy the feature without any complaints. The rest of us, having hyped it a lot longer, it was a much more mixed experience.

It's not my fault. Though I'll confess, from a cinematographical perspective, the movie was not the greatest. I mean, it was basically like editing a live multi-camera shoot and I was not a professional. I had to flip between cameras on the fly and sometimes chose the wrong one to go live, sound dropped out, and sometimes there were just no good shots. Out of courtesy to our performers, except Kayla, I tried to position the camera at her-eye level, so heads wouldn't be in the shot (I planned, if I eventually released the full video, to edit it more thoroughly so none appeared, but live, it happened from time to time and it was a good thing nobody there cared). Not the best viewing experience, but that wasn't what everyone was complaining about by the end of the night.

Here's how it went down. I waited patiently for a signal from my man inside, which he only gave when Nicole rang the doorbell, and then, boom, showtime, the lights went down, the digital projector flared to life, and we went live, interrupting who knows how many rapes as people settled down to enjoy what they came there to see.

They'd talked about setting this up so Nicole didn't have to leave at all, starting the scene by giving her a drink, and then pretending the drink was drugged, but they ditched that plan, apparently worried Nicole couldn't fake drugged slumber well enough, or maybe they just felt inhibited raping a little girl with the mother right there watching through the barest slit in her eyelids. Instead, the pretext was the same--that they were there to pick up some new homeschooling resources from Lauren's dad, who happened to be running a poker game at the same time--but with a plan for a quick exit that leaves Kayla under untrustworthy supervision. Some of us in the theater snickered a bit at Nicole's bad acting (she didn't know the camera was there, to be fair, but we wanted one on her face in the doorway so there was no doubt she was in on it) as she faked an emergency phone call from an old friend who had fallen off the wagon and was taking drugs in a bar and needed Nicole's help, and then asked Frank if he could watch Kayla for a couple hours while she sorted it out, since obviously it was no place for a young girl. Kayla's eyes widened when she made the request, and by the time he promised to take care of her and her mom was swiftly instructing her little girl to do everything these men said and not cause trouble for them, those adorable eyes were practically bugged out of her head. I never did figure out if she caught on to what her Mom was lying about and why, or just realized what could happen for a few hours along with men (and one teen), finally without any supervision from Mom. But Nicole got out of there and sped off, possibly really to a bar to drown any remaining second thoughts about leaving her daughter to get ravished in every hole.

Frank invited Kayla from the foyer into the main living room where all the men watched her eagerly, silent at first, and finally, Frank took a second to go back and close the door behind her, deadbolted it, returned, and knelt down beside the girl, put one arm around her to pin her to his side, and said, "Well, looks like we're left alone with a sweet little girl here. Her mother has entrusted us with a lot of responsibility, and obviously it would be wrong to continue playing poker with her here, so let's find something most of us can enjoy."

"Maybe it's just me," said the only man there who paid to be there, "But I think we'd all enjoy raping the little girl until her Mom comes back."

"Hmm, there's an idea. Let's put it to a vote. All in favor?" All the hands went up, except Kayla's which were held tight against her body. "Sorry kid, looks like you got outvoted," Frank said, and shrugged and let go of her. The group of men who'd all voted they were going to rape got out of their chairs and advanced, pulling off their clothes, as she nervously backed away towards the door behind her, but found no escape, unable to reach the deadbolt before the first of them grabbed her.

The group had a moment of uneasiness as the rape actually began in earnest, since Kayla actually did fight a little, which made her rapists seem hesitant, and many of us watching uncomfortable. She was a far better actor than her mother, at least, her "No, you can't," was believable with a nervous tremor in her voice, her arms flailing at anyone getting close (and yet failing to hit anywhere they could do any damage), and her attempts to slip past people and find another exit before they grabbed her did look convincingly like distress. I was briefly tempted to just cut the feed, and I think if I did, only a few people would have complained. We're a good town, and seeing a little girl getting sexually assaulted without even a pink wristband on her wrist still makes many of us instinctually uneasy, maybe even more uneasy than when the trend started. In some ways we've been conditioned that a girl without one of the signals is truly innocent and untouchable.

But then one of the cameras caught an excited smile when she thought nobody was looking and the theater seemed to let out one collective held breath, relieved that this was okay after all. Someone even yelled, "Look at that little bitch, she's loving this," which caused a ripple of laughter. As for her rapists, I don't know if they saw it, or just decided that at this point, they were committed, and soon pinned got each of her arms and legs locked down and under complete control.

They pulled off her clothes one by one, ripping off her underwear for dramatic effect (sadly, the shot was spoiled, but we got a good view, a few seconds later, of a finger being forced inside of her). After getting her warmed up for a minute or two, they pushed her head to Frank's cock first, popping it inside her mouth, and a black cock moved in, slapped along her face until Frank made room, and she got just the head of it inside before they pulled away. The young Huntsman, Todd, fifteen, was chosen for the first anal penetration, but only a few seconds after the wealthy patron, who had already paid for rights for the first vaginal rape (and had been watching the oral initiation with a sour look, like he felt entitled to that too) inserted himself. One she was settled on the root, Todd, who'd been holding her from behind got inside her ass. The thrust together while the other three held her legs apart and covered her mouth. Neither of the first two lasted long, which might have been another reason they were allowed to go first, but the next cocks inside of her were there a lot longer, although they took a minute or two break first, to force Kayla to watch the cum leak out of her pussy ("It's so thick and gooey" she said with wonder and surprise), then one of them scooped it up to wipe it on her face to show it was slimey, too, before taking another turn. Sweet little Kayla was tossed around like a ragdoll at times, but always with surprising gentleness.

They got even more gentle after everyone had at least one good cum, including Mike, who didn't get to fully insert his monster cock fully anywhere, but did jack off the head in her pussy just after Kayla experienced the sex position Nicole wanted and requested, every hole filled at once and both hands jacking off cocks. I don't know it's got an official name, but I like to call that position the Lovecraftian Starfish. But shortly after that, they stopped doing the 'pin her arms and legs down' type of rape, and moved into the 'just order the girl to do degrading stuff and she will' kind of rape, the kind of rape a lot of wristband-wearers and Huntsmen were used to. They still play it as rape because they can tell themselves the girls were afraid, but really, at a certain point, they just like serving sexually for anybody who demands it. So the lucky five had Kayla orally clean their cocks in turn, then masturbate herself to orgasm with a beer bottle, mostly as a show to get them excited enough to rape her another round, then had that other round, usually one on one, with the others sometimes contributing a finger or a grope or a slap on bare ass, and a lot of dirty talk, calling her a little rape slut, baby fuckmeat, or other such endearments, extracting promises to not be so hard to rape in the future (well, she promised to try), and so on.

In the theater, things had calmed down some by that point, most people who brought company got a good rape in watching the Lovecraftian Starfish, if not earlier, and blew their load in whatever girl was convenient... a few girls were raping each other, just for something to do, and some people were starting to leave. But even those who did soon heard about what happened when Nicole gave a familiar and yet at the same time very unconventional motherly check-up call. I suppose it's only natural for a mother to get nervous with her nearly twelve-year-old little girl left alone with five men, even if she did send her there to get raped by all of them, and so Mike noticed his phone buzzing on the table, briefly left the room, and then came back a minute or two later, phone in hand, still on. At the time, Kayla was getting a father-son double-team and her fingers working her clit to nearly another orgasm. Mike let whoever was on the other line listen to one, and the groans of the two emptying their loads inside the little girl, then, after they pulled out and Kayla was catching her breath, face down in the carpet, he said, "Hey, Kayla. You're a little rape whore, right?" She only answered with a nod, so Mike asked her, "Say it, say you're being a good little rape whore for us tonight."

"I'm your little rape whore tonight. You''ll have to tell me if I've been a good rape whore."

"I think you're a real good rape whore. This is all your fault you know... you really were asking for it."

"Uh-huh."

"But honestly, did you like us raping you tonight?"

What followed next were not the words anyone wanted to hear. "It was okay. I mean, I had fun, I guess."


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The Problem with Kayla, continued AnonyMPC 18/10/15(Mon)20:51 No. 25834 ID: 5b8b56

She didn't sound traumatized, or uncertainly trying to please, she looked like someone who'd been waiting ten years for a new Star Wars movie and while it was good, it wasn't as mind-blowing as they expected (I know that look from the mirror). But you know, some girls take a while to warm up to rape, they get tricked or peer pressured into trying the wristband or do it just for the perks, and it takes getting a few mind-shattering rape orgasms and the excitement of never knowing for sure when the next one is coming, to really start to love it. Kayla loved it before actually trying it, but a lot of people right then, myself included, were thinking maybe it worked the same way.

Frank must have been thinking along similar lines, and he was a parent himself, albeit not a very good one, so he tried to reassure her. "It's okay, my daughter didn't like the taste of cock at first, and in fact the first few times having sex were a bit of a chore for her, until she started to really get into it. Believe me, a few more orgasms on a real live cock..."

That's when Kayla interrupted and surprised everyone, but perhaps no one as much as her mother on the other side of the phone. Her face visibly brightened as she said in the most chipper voice you can imagine, "Oh, I've cum plenty of times from a real live cock. Just not human ones. They're a little disappointing. I mean, dog cock is much more fun! The bottom swells up into a knot and I can even get stuck on it if I've been a really good bitch."

That got the whole theater's attention. Men sleepy in their seats, sat up straight and some even took their fingers out of the girls on their lap. We all also heard Nicole's tinny "WHAT?" from the phone, but it was closer to the mic than Kayla, and she didn't, because she went on, "I think animals are much better at raping a girl than humans are. I mean, I've only tried one animal so far, but I like it way better already. It's just so much more exciting and degrading, you know? I think it's their natural instincts taking over, but when an animal mounts you really feel owned, you know?"

I thought this town was unshockable, but you should have seen that crowd, parents frantically covering their children's ears like an F-Bomb being dropped at a Baptist event. But this was the girl who turned on a huge chunk of the town's young girls to being willing free-use rapebait. She was, for us, the face of rape, and now she was excitedly promoting the virtues of bestiality as even better. It's like if the one-and-only Ronald McDonald went on a live McDonald event and announced they really like Burger King more... no, wait, Burger King doesn't really capture the degrading depravity of bestiality. More like Arby's. Can you imagine? It'd be worse than if the clown was caught fucking children. Speaking of, I should tell you some time my theory Ronald McDonald finally did lose control and rape a kid, until the corporate Gods cursed him by transforming the kid into the shapeless, genderless, Grimace, named after the face he or she made when Ronald came inside, and forced Ronald to take care of the monster as punishment. I know that seems unfair to the kid, but that's the kind of thing Gods do, it's like the Greek Gods punishing Medusa for her rape. I guess it's more of a fanfic than a theory. Shit, sorry, I went off on a tangent again, didn't I? Bad habit. That's why the schools mostly call me in to substitute for Math classes... I can do the others, but I wind up going off on tangents. Nothing? Okay, never mind, I'm too used to joking with the kids in Mrs. Culpepper's class.

What wasn't a joke was the anger, not just Nicole's, but the theater's, and most of that was directed at me. A lot of people thought I was holding out on them, that I knew about Kayla's bestiality experiments, must have gotten them on tape, and either were pissed that I hadn't warned anyone that Kayla might announce something like that, or that I was hoarding some outrageously kinky video, or both. The town might not have liked their daughters to hear about those kinds of activities, but plenty wanted to see them for themselves. But I swear, I didn't have any of her dog sex experiences. The only tapes I kept absolutely to myself were some bathroom tapes, because I'm old-fashioned enough to believe a little girl should have some privacy while on the can instead of having the whole town watching videos of it. People didn't believe me at first, though, and I was having a hard time believing it myself, wondering if maybe Kayla made everything up, to shock the guys raping her, maybe to shock her mother who she might have guessed was listening. When I got home I went back over old footage and noticed something I never noticed before and realized that I missed out on the video of Kayla's doggy rapes because I didn't think to put any cameras in the garage. I mean, who'd expect I'd need to?

I didn't pay too close attention to those hours of footage where Grandma Martha was in charge, because she was a boring old prude... I thought. But every so often, either because Kayla said something outrageous or sometimes just dressed inappropriately, or sat the wrong way, or sometimes for no visible reason at all, Grandma Martha said she needed to teach her a lesson, and marched her into the garage to "get some screws sorted out." I'd seen the march to the garage happen, once, but I paid it no mind. I'd had punishments like that, too... I mean, not the forced bestiality that Kayla went through, but when I got in trouble, one of the things my parents did was send me into the garage with a pointless chore, like, yes, sorting a huge jarful of mixed screws by size or color or head-type. That's what I imagined went on under Grandma Martha's supervision, but apparently my imagination was sorely lacking. The woman was training a little girl, her own great-grandchild, to be a doggy bitch right under everyone's noses! Kayla hung her head on the way to the garage like it was a punishment, but I never noticed, until I looked for it, the slight bounce in her step or the way the dog's tail wagged on their way into the garage, or the way Kayla's hair was always messy coming out. I guess Martha chose there to do it in, because it was easier to wash away any evidence of dog cum than in the house, on carpet. Or maybe she just thought it was more degrading for a preteen to be mounted by a mutt on a dusty concrete garage floor. Nobody can ask her, anymore.

She did confirm what she did, though, just before her death.

I saw that happen, too. It was the very next day... shortly after this revelation the party ended, Nicole arrived to drag Kayla home, not even bothering to let her dress or even gather her clothes, just pulled her naked into the car. I have no idea what conversation happened there, but I imagine Kayla at least confirmed that it wasn't just fantasy and that Chekov was the dog who fucked her (and really who else could it have been, the way Nicole kept her isolated). So, the next day, Grandma Martha was called to account.

Kayla wasn't there at the time, thank goodness. Once a girl's been gang-raped twice (I count the girls, after all, though not everyone does) and expressed a preference for bestial rape, it seems little silly to keep her on such a short leash. No pun intended. I think at that point they'd given up even more than the first time they did... they were probably also hoping that if she got raped a few more times she might give up on this new fetish. Regardless, for the first time in forever, Kayla was out enjoying time with friends. I don't even know if she got raped that day, but it was a beautiful spring day, nearly summer, so I imagine she had some kind of fun.

Not having fun was Grandma Martha, who showed up with Chekov expecting a babysitting job, only to find Nicole and Walter waiting for her with grim expressions and a "We need to talk." I don't know if they were playing nice, or if Kayla followed through with her earlier promise never to snitch on a rapist, but they didn't come on all accusatory at first, but framed it more as a failure of supervision, that Kayla somehow had been having sex with Chekov, not that Martha had stripped the girl naked in the garage, forced her on her hands and knees, and manually guided the dog cock into her pussy.

But a guilty conscience is ready for an accusation, and hers assumed that's what it was no matter how gently and non-confrontationally it was phrased. "Yeah, well, so what, I was trying to teach her a lesson! You raised a demon child, not me, and then you called me to clean up your mess. You sure as hell weren't trying anything except the soft-hearted approach... at least I tried something! What did you expect me to do when she needed discipline? Spanking clearly wasn't getting through to her... the bitch liked a whupping too much. Liked being a bitch, too, but at least my way calmed her jets down for a while!"

"You had your dog rape our daughter!"

"She can't get pregnant from it, and it was a last resort! Don't act so sanctimonious, you never cared what I did as long as my methods were working. And they were, some! You even complimented me on how well behaved Kayla was after I took care of her. That's because when she talked about how she wished she could get raped, I didn't ignore her like you do, I washed her mouth out with dog cum so she knew she couldn't get away with saying inappropriate things. Or her cunt for driving her to sin. Sometimes her ass, just because it was hilarious when they knotted up."

"That's sick!"

"Sick, shmick, haven't you ever heard of tough love? A girl her age needs discipline, so I gave her some. It would probably have worked too if you two didn't baby her! Always has before! I only had to make your Mom gargle mutt jizz a couple times and it kept her mostly out of trouble."

"Oh my God, Mom? You made my mom fuck a dog too?"

"No, I never had to escalate to letting Scotty actually hump her." I guess Scotty was her dog in those days, and she was following a theme in names. "Because she learned her lesson and knew she couldn't act out, she was able to control herself and save herself for a guy who could support her. Maybe if she let me do it to you, too, you wouldn't have had your wild teenage years and married this fuckhead."

Walter said, "What did I do, you kinky old bitch?" and that's where the screaming match started, Martha blaming both of them for poor parenting leading to Kayla's speech, and not being aggressiveness in dealing with it after, accusations tossed around all over, including that Walter wanted to molest Kayla, which was true but still the kind of accusation you fight back against, and in the confusion both Walter's rape of Lauren and Nicole's cheating got brought up, not by Martha but she used it for ammunition, and, at some point, Nicole threatened to call the police on her grandmother. That's when Martha grabbed her chest and fell over.

Because she landed perfectly, comfortably even, on the couch, it took about a minute before they realized she wasn't just playing for sympathy, and it's possible if the two had called 911 right away she would have survived, but I think it was just her time. She may have been a tough old broad, but none of us last forever.

As stipulated in her will, Kayla got Chekov. Or maybe the dog got Kayla. Kayla never even heard about the fight, was told just that Grandma Martha passed (the girl's tears were heartbreaking, even though, or maybe because, the woman regularly raped her with a dog), but she seemed happy when she found out that Grandma Martha wanted her to take care of Chekov. I think Nicole agreed to that out of guilt more than anything else, blaming herself for the fatal heart attack because of the threat she made moments before her grandmother keeled over. It might not even count it as a threat... she just said she 'should' call the cops on her, not that she would, but she probably wouldn't, considering her own activities. It probably seemed pretty scary to Grandma Martha. I'm pretty sure the old lady, who had few living friends and spent most of her time not watching Kayla home alone watching cable news and court shows, had no idea how much the town had changed, or what the wristbands and chokers the young people were into signified, and might well have panicked herself to death at the suggestion that she'd be publicly accused of the things she'd actually done... but I don't think there's any sense in laying blame.

Still, Nicole's guilty conscience left a preteen girl, whose biggest goal in life is now to be sexually dominated by animals, alone with a dog and two parents who have given up expecting any more out of her. Sometimes just straight up alone, because Nicole chose to go back to work. So they let Kayla do what she considers her 'duty', being sexually available to Chekov 24/7 at home, not even bothering to hide it from her parents anymore. The most discipline they've imposed on her is to make sure he's not horny when she takes him outside somewhere, so he doesn't hop up on her and mount her in the park in front of everyone. It's not like they're fooling anybody even without an obscene performance like that. Everybody knows what she's into now, and whenever she takes Chekov out for a walk, Kayla always wears a matching collar to his, and a short skirt, usually with some kind of animal print. Dalmation or zebra, usually, which Chekov certainly is not, but they don't make Doberman print clothes. I guess she figures it's close enough... and if she does encounter a male zebra, she's ready to attract his cock. But while over the summer it's become a common sight to see her walking through the park dressed like that, collar, skirt, and nothing underneath the skirt (often topless too), like she's announcing to the world that she's Chekov's bitch and he can if use her if he chooses... it's been pretty rare for anyone to actually see public copulation between the two. She takes good care of him at home. Less rare is video of it, of course... by now most of the town's seen Snapchat videos of her getting stabbed from behind by Chekov's obscene veiny dick, the animal humping away, or of her sucking on it, usually while Kayla's got a "puppy face" filter running on her own face, and they've gotten around... she's sent dozens of them out to the people most likely to share. She's got a sense, now, of how influential she's been with others in the town, and she's got a yearning to evangelize her new passion. And since she's not isolated from the other kids anymore, that's tendency is freaking a lot of the town out.


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The Problem with Kayla, conclusion AnonyMPC 18/10/15(Mon)21:37 No. 25835 ID: 5b8b56

So now you understand the problem with Kayla. What do you do when over a quarter of the young girls in town are wearing "I'm With Kayla" wristbands, but Kayla's mostly moved on from rape to being an all-around animal bitch? Does the brand transcend the one who started it and keep its original meaning? Or does wearing it mean anyone wearing the wristband has to act like Kayla, and if Kayla likes animals to rape her, the With-Kaylas have to as well? Is there any way we can find an exceptional human rapist that might be able to turn her around? We've struggled through that for the whole summer and so far we've had no luck on that, but, obviously we're going to need to take some kind of action, as some girls are making the jump to animals already. It'd probably be more, but there just aren't that many male animals who haven't been fixed. Yet. But the ones following in Kayla's footsteps and a lot of girls are asking for dogs as a birthday present, which makes it look like the start of a worrying trend. These things can snowball fast. I don't want the town to go this route. I mean, I was so looking forward to Halloween! Little girls coming door to door in skimpy costumes, begging for candy, and knowing that if one had a wristband and you liked them you could just throw her over your shoulder give candy to her friends, and take her in your house for a trick? Not to mention previously untouchable girls who decide to put on a wristband as their costume for the year. All of that's at risk and I'm scared we'll see nothing but mutt costumes. It probably doesn't help that for the new school year, 'I got raped' stopped being an ironclad excuse to get out of schoolwork or tests, except for a first timer (it still excuses lateness and absences, but the latter only if the girl's snatched and kept by a rapist the whole school day, and who has the time or energy for that... anymore). On the other hand, 'I got raped by a dog' has been counted as a separate first time for anyone really needing an exemption (though it has to be rape, either forced by someone else to do it or the girl happened to be bending over without underwear in front of a dog and getting mounted... just convincing a dog to fuck her gets a girl nothing, at least not in any of the classes I sub for).

At least not all's lost yet. Kayla still will take a rape from humans... Chekov discourages a lot of them, because he's very territorial, but now that summer's over the girl's back at regular school and he's not allowed there (yet), so people do get a chance and Kayla seems to like it (especially if you treat her like she's actually a dog), but you get the feeling she's humoring us and we need to do something drastic soon or we're in danger of losing a lot more of the girls, some to bestiality, some to clearer signals like the Like-Kaits (which is in some ways worse, to anyone not black), and some to just trying to go back to being a normal girl, having reached their limit of kinkiness. Parents, too... Reverend Chapman may be able to justify incest and child rape biblically, but bestiality is trickier. A minority, sure, people might look the other way or enjoy watching, but too many get into that and the parents'll pushback a lot harder on the wristbands as a whole, and we might lose the whole fragile setup, and some people might say that's a good thing, but if you ask me, we'll just be left with a lot of men who've grown used to being able to rape and no distinct group they know they can get away with raping, which puts all our town's innocent girls at more risk. You can see how that would be a bad thing... I mean, you don't want innocent children to suffer, right?

Good. Because there is one idea we've come up with, and that's why I'm telling you this. We thought, maybe we can start a secondary brand, for bestiality, that people can either wear along with the wristbands or independently. We haven't gotten all the details yet, maybe just a dog collar, but that's a little too blatant. Someone suggested something like a necklace with a queen of clubs symbol (because, if you squint a little, it resembles a stylized animal paw print), and maybe we'll go with that, but we have a bigger issue. If we go with this plan, we might be able to salvage the pink wristbands, but... Kayla can't be the face of wanting-to-be-raped anymore. She needs to pass the torch. I've already talked to her about it, and she's agreed, if we find somebody, she'll make some big public handover to her and take up her new animal-whore brand (I mean brand like brand name, not a literal brand, although Kayla is remarkably excited about that suggestion when we explained the distinction). Of course, I did have to sell her on my idea of the handover, order her this kinky dog fetish outfit, and also promise to abduct her for a weekend trip to a farm run by an old friend of mine, so she can have fun with pigs, ponies, and goats.

All that's left is to find somebody to publicly profess their desire to be raped, and update the name on the wristbands, which is why I'm here. I understand you have some very attractive daughters. Oh, don't look so offended at the idea. We know you stayed at Cockburn bed and breakfast when you were househunting here and enjoyed their full hospitality. I'm good with hidden cameras, remember? You left your own daughters at home that visit, and maybe you consider them off-limits, but you still moved here. Well, we're not asking YOU to rape them. And really, we only need one of them, you can leave the other as your little angel, if you want, and you know what this town gives up to protect little angels. Both of them would be better, if you're open to that. A pair of sweet sisters would make for good brand leaders, because we can do fun things like use slightly different shades of pink to market one side of the brand a little raunchier and another for classier rapists, or for promoting the younger one, say, as Family Fuckmeat, only ready to be raped by family members, at first... or to advertise the distinction of one girl needing to be tied up or restrained first and the other just doing whatever's ordered. There are lots of possibilities, if you're willing... but I'm a reasonable man, I understand it's probably too much to ask to let us use both your daughters. Surely you can meet me halfway and spare one, though? Every parent with more than one kid's got one they secretly know is going to be useless for much else anyway. We need somebody for this, and we really need it to be a fresh face. If we choose someone who already wears the wristbands, it's just going to cause resentment among the others, and whoever we pick, they need that certain star quality that your daughters have.

I realize it's a lot to ask, I do, but it's not even as big a sacrifice as you might be thinking. You can even keep your rapebait daughter isolated like Kayla was. Maybe that'd even work better, in fact. All we really need her for is a short speech and one, big, public gang rape. And a few smaller ones beforehand, just training, to get her accustomed to cocks and make sure she responds well, has some good orgasms, and makes it look appealing when the big moment comes. Maybe we could even try out both of them for a night and just go with whichever one takes to it best. You can't always guess that in advance, and that way you don't have to personally choose one over the other for the role, which I can understand might be difficult.

Whichever one it is, she might enjoy the spotlight, the spectacle of the whole thing. Our plan is, we're going to do it at a football game's halftime, just like when Kayla gave her speech that started all this. She'll give a new speech, introducing our new face-of-rape, one of your daughters, hopefully, as her hand-picked successor, maybe hint that they recruited her to come here specifically for this (a little white lie never hurt anyone), have a chance to talk a bit about moving on to her own brand because she likes being treated like an animal. Then the new girl will give a speech announce her love of rape by humans, then a few lucky raffle winners will get to gangbang her on stage, and Kayla will let her dog mount her while she wears her full fetish getup, furry ears, snout with a ring-gag, paws, and a buttplug tail, plus whatever we choose as her brand identifier, to try and win converts to her point of view. It won't even be a full rape, it's mostly just for show, fifteen minutes tops. They might not even cum in either girl and there'll be police supervision to make sure they're not really hurt, and in fact everyone will be doing their best to give your daughters an orgasm and make it look more appealing than Kayla's way. Everyone will have a good time, we'll make our point, and everyone can enjoy the rest of the game. After that, order a new load of wristbands with a new name, maybe we give your girl a 'Rape Me' tattoo where a wristband would go (since the face of rape doesn't wear one herself, that's just for the people declaring they're 'with' her), and then you can lock her up in her room till she's eighteen if that's what you think's best. Nobody's trying to tell you how to parent. Suggesting, maybe, but the ball's in your court.

So, what do you say, are you going to help our town out of our Kayla problem? We can try and find someone else, but this is a great way to make a good impression on your new neighbors and help protect the innocent girls left in our town. Please, won't you think of the children?

The End
“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom
"ALSO CAUTION: Real rape is really, really bad. Sex with children, too. It may seem insensitive or in poor taste, to deal with those issues in anything less than a serious light, or indeed to use fantasies along those lines for sexual gratification, when real people suffer from them, but that's the thing with fantasy. I can decide for the purposes of the story that everyone raped enjoys it and nobody is seriously harmed. In reality, real people are involved and horrible things really do happen that never should happen. The only way I can imagine living with those horrors going on in the news every day is with fantasy, to safely play with the horrors, prepare for them, cope with them, laugh at them, fap to them, or tame them, if only in my mind. Sometimes even to deal with the all-too-human urges to join in with the horrors, to safely purge them so I can be, in reality, a better person. Fantasy's an incredible tool for all of that, and more, but you're better off not being around a tool if you can't use it properly. In this case, that means confusing it with the real thing. Especially don't confuse enjoyment of a fantasy for endorsement of the same acts or attitudes in reality. This is true whether you're dealing with a video game where mindless violence really is the answer, or a story where you're meant to enjoy children getting raped. And, though we all need our breaks from reality now and then, we have to go back to the real world eventually... be good to each other while you're there, that, too, makes it a little more bearable." - AnonyMPC


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Anonymous 18/10/20(Sat)00:55 No. 25841 ID: d776bf

you’re the best there is



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