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My Little Robin (loli) spiderfiend!ozOtJW9BFA 14/11/20(Thu)07:17 No. 22831 ID: d09574

The book was old. It was bound in a now faded leather that hinted at the color black. It had several tears that had been stitched shut, some with professional precession and some were rough and untrained. The wear and tear the tomb exhibited could not even begin to tell the tale that lay inside it's pages. If it were to be opened one would find the paper musty,stiff, and yellowed with age. Some of the pages seem to have been torn out leaving only short ragged stubs to testify for their existence. Inside the worn cover of the old book was a short paragraph of small tightly written script pinned in black ink that had long since faded to blue, it read.

“ To my Robin, my daughter, my wife, my lover. You are what kept me going all these years. Yours forever Edward.”

May 19, 1954
I have not been this excited since I was a child on Christmas morning. My name is Edward Blanton, I am twenty nine years old, and I am a ornithologist. That is a bird scientist. I follow birds, watch birds, I love birds, birds are my passion. I will record all of my findings in this journal for posterity, but first I need to explain the adventure I am currently on.

You see there is a little known rare species of bird called the Blue Pope. It is a small bird close cousin to the finch but has a interesting blue coloration that makes it unique. It nests in southern Mexico during the winter months, but no one knows where they go for the summer. The Blue Pope has one other strange quality about it that makes it special. In the small southern town where the birds nest for half the year, it is the only place in Mexico where you can find Pope Berries. The berries are not native to the area and they seem to only begin sprouting when the birds appear every season. This has lead me to believe that the two are tied together somehow.

So no one knows where these strange little birds go for the summer, no one except me. I found out where they have been hiding, on my grandfathers land in Montana. I found this out several months ago when I was going through some of my grandfathers old books and found a sprig of Pope Berries pressed between the pages of one large tomb. When I asked my mother about it she told me it was from the cabin her father owned in the mountains, and that these plants grew wild there. It is a chunk of land closed off in a hidden valley that you had to have a plane to get to. Unless you were willing to hike the two days it took to get to the old cabin and that was a long trip over rough ground.

So here I am on a train to Montanan with my last seventy five bucks in my pocket. I hope that my guess is correct and I find my little birds there.

May 21, 1954
I have walked for the last two days and have finally reached the edge of the valley. I am sitting on the rim of what I can only assume is a old volcano bowl. There is a sizable lake at the very bottom of the crater that I was told has fish in it and a short distance from the lake is a building I am assuming is my grandfathers cabin. The whole valley is dotted with lichen covered rocks and boulder that seem to grow up in and amongst the plant life here. The whole valley can be no more than a few miles across, and I was hard pressed to find it on any map. It has no name so I was thinking about calling it Edward Valley. I am so tired. I am not use to all this exercise, but the view is worth it.

This place is so quiet yet so alive with wonders. The land has a beauty that is almost beyond description, I am in awe that such a place even exists. The way the greens and browns merge seamlessly into the azure blue of the sky just takes my breath away. I am sitting watching a moose or a large deer further along the valley rim grazing on the small green scrubby bushes that seem to grow everywhere here. When I examined the bushes I found the little white bubs of the Pope Berry almost ready to bloom on all of them. This has to be the place.

My Grandfather bought this land from the railroad back in 1898 and lived on it for ten years till he moved to new york in 1911with his wife and daughter. Since then the valley has remained isolated far beyond the reach of civilized man. As far as I can tell no one has been back here to visit, until today.

If my suspicions are correct I have only a few short days before my bird will arrive, so I need to quickly get ready for them. I have brought several instant cameras with me so I can document my findings. They are a marvelous invention that can take a picture instantly without the need for a lab to process the film. Hopefully they have not been damaged in the long trip here, they cost me almost twenty dollars each.

Well I have a few hours of walking ahead of me, so here I go.

May 22, 1954
I will try to write as much as I can. My arm is stiff and it is hard to move where she has stabbed me.
When I came down the hill to the cabin I was surprised to find that it was actually a lodge size building.
It was two story's tall with a ancient look about it, it had shutters protectively covering all the windows from the elements. The construction seem to be in the log-cabin style, but where did they get the logs from? There are no trees here in the valley, and no signs that there ever were. The roof seem to be intact because I could not see any damage from my vantage point, although there could have been leaks over the years. To my untrained eye the lodge looked like it was a sturdy habitable structure.

When I walked onto the big old creaky porch I found the front door was ajar and swung slowly in the wind. So I expected a some kind of animal like bear or maybe some kind of wolf had taken up residence in the lodge due to the absence of people for so long. I was extra careful when I went inside in case the bear was still here even though I saw no sign of a large animal. What I found inside the place was far beyond what I expected, it was a wreck. The lodge had been left furnished as if my grandfather expected to return at any time. Large animal heads stared glassy eyed from the walls as I tentatively invaded their tomb. There was dust and dirt covering every surface I could see. Small piles of dead plants and tiny animal bones lay against the walls and in corners. I went into the kitchen and found that any food that had been left here was long ago ravaged by wild animals. Pots and pans where scattered among pieces of broken dishes and cookware.

I moved from room to room cautiously observing the frozen passage of time in the lodge. The whole house had a strange lived in feel even though no one had been here in more than twenty years. I kept waiting to find a pack of large gray wolves camped out in one of the many rooms that I searched. In the dark shadowy study I found the strangest thing I had seen in my exploration of the lodge. It was a nest of blankets and bedding piled in one corner against the tall moldering book shelves. It was large enough that I could have climbed into it and taken a nap if I had so chosen. The nest seem to have been woven together over time and is accented by little blue feathers and small shinny stone. The cloth and blankets where stained strange colors, some appeared to be blood, and some were old berry juice smudges. The whole house had a peculiarly fowl musty odor that I tried to dispel by opening as many rusty hinged windows as I was able to. Until this point the whole experience had been strange and almost other worldly. It was like I had stepped into someones memory of what this place should be like. I had wondered through the lodge airing out it's old ghosts and opening it like a long sealed tomb to the daylight. Slowly I had become convinced that what ever animal was here had left when it sensed my presence. That was my mistake because it made me let my guard down.

That was when I opened one of the bedroom doors. The animal lept out with a feral scream and slammed into my chest driving me to the ground. It raked against my arm with its claws as it pinned me to the floor. It was trying to bite me but I was able to barely hold it at bay by gripping it's neck. It had some kind of odd red main that was whipping me in the face as it snarled and clawed at me. I finally managed get some leverage and pushed hard tossing it back across the room. It hit the far wall with a crunch and fell to the floor in a crumpled little pile. It took me several seconds to get my wits about me as I assessed my wounds and got to my feet. It's attack had staggered me and I turned to face my opponent readying for another round.

The animal had gotten back up and was sulking in the shadows growling viciously at me. I fumbled for my flashlight that I had clipped to my belt. It was the only thing I could think to use to defend myself against the beast. If I could not scare it I could at least use the light as a makeshift club. Clicking the button on I shown the light into the beasts face in a attempt to try and blind it.

What I saw shocked me as nothing in my life ever had. It was a small dirty little girl crouched on all fours growling at me. She could not have been any older then ten or eleven it was hard to tell under all of the dirt. She had very red hair that was matted and unkempt that flailed about as she moved. She was almost naked except for some kind of loincloth around her waist, and her skin was splattered with all kinds of substances I would rather not think of. She flinched away from my light and tried to claw at me with her right hand, that slashed out with a flash of metal. That was when I saw the large kitchen knife she clutched and was still threatening me with. There was crimson blood splatters on it's crusty pitted blade, my blood.

I slowly backed up toward the door keeping my eyes on the little beast. When I was able to get out of the room I ran down stairs to my pack where I had the forethought to bring a first aid kit with me. My shirt was ruined and I had half a dozen shallow gashes on my right arm and shoulder. After I had stopped the bleeding I looked around for my little assailant. I spotted her silently watching me with large predator eyes through the railing on the upper floor.

OK, I have to stop writing now my arm hurts too much.

May 23, 1954
I was too tired yesterday to write so I let my arm have a rest. I did as much cleaning as I was able to with my wound in pain. All day long the girl shadowed me from room to room as I attempted my resurrection of my grandfathers lodge. I finished up in the kitchen where I had done the most amount of work. I had packed a months worth of food and wanted to setup a working kitchen so I would at least be able to cook a decent meal. I am at a loss of who this girl is or how she got here. I had tried to talk to her but all she would do is growl or grunt as she jabbed toward me with her knife. She watched me at a distance all day seeming to try and puzzle out this stranger in her home.

She is now in the next room hiding in the depths of her nest watching me write as I sit in front of the fireplace. I gathered some old wood and other things that would burn and started a fire to keep warm. She seems to be afraid and at the same time drawn to the flickering light in the hearth. I slept poorly last night because I was afraid to close my eyes with a little dirty knife wielding moppet in the next room, but in the end my exhaustion won out.

When I woke up in the morning she had not moved, and when I stood up the girl flinched sinking deeper into the safety of her burrow. I always start the day by making some coffee to warm me, because even though its May here in the mountains it was cold enough this morning that I was able see my breath. After a invigorating cup of dark rich roast I was ready to start on my breakfast. I don’t know what the girls diet normally consist of. Although what ever it is it can't be all that healthy, there is not a large selection of wild foods to choose from up here.

At first she just hid in the study, a pair of eyes constantly watching me from the darkness. I am not a psychologist by any stretch of the imagination but I am a excellently good cook. I also know the one thing that will bring a hungry person to the table quicker than anything else. I was right because she slowly crept out of hiding about a minute after I laid the first strips of bacon on the hot skillet. The sensual smell of the cooking meat drifted throughout the house. My mouth was watering as the meat darkened and sizzled. I observed her as she crept closer and closer like a shadow moved slowly by the passing sun. I watched her little pink tongue dart across her small dirty lips as she was drawn out by the succubus smell of the cooking pork.

When the bacon was nice, crunchy, and crisp, I fished it out and onto a waiting plate. I snapped off a piece and popped it in my mouth, relishing the greasy flavor as I chewed slowly. She was perched on the arm of the chair no more than ten feet away watching me with huge hungry eyes. I tried to tempt her by holding out some of the tasty treat in my hand, but she was too afraid to venture any closer to me. In the end I tossed it to her and to my surprise she caught it in her mouth like a well trained dog. She chewed on the bacon happily enjoying the flavor as I did. We actually had a moment as I would eat some and then toss some to her. I thought we had bonded and she would no longer be afraid of me, but when I stood up she immediately retreated to her den.

Once again as the day before she followed me around like my shadow as I progressively cleaned the old lodge of it's lost memories. Although she does seem to be following closer to me than she did the day before.

May 24, 1954
Her name is Robin because her red hair reminds me of the color of a robin's breast. I have given her a name so I don’t have to keep calling her girl or you. I came here to solve a riddle about the Blue Pope, but have stumbled across a greater mystery than I could have ever imagined. I am stuck here by my self with her for two weeks till the man I payed to fly me some provisions comes. Maybe I could ask him if he knows who she mite be.

I started setting up some of my cameras in preparation for the coming of the Blue Popes. For the last several months I could think of nothing but the secret of my mysterious little blue birds. Now all of that is been over shadowed by Robin. She is a new interesting riddle I long to crack. I have tried to observe her when she is not aware I am looking, and it is so strange the way she scurries around like a savage little mouse. She is very quiet too, several times she has snuck up on me with out my being aware of her presence.

As I began to get ready to for dinner Robin startled me when she jumped on the cooking table in the middle of the kitchen. She squatted there on the table with a large fish dangling from her mouth. She dropped it, gave me a look and jumped back to the floor scampering off. I looked at the fish laying on the table. Was this a kind of offering? Was she trying to trade the fish for more bacon? I guess I will never know.

What I do know from years of practice is how to cook and clean fish. So I fried up Robin's fish and added to the plates some wild rabbit cabbage and dried Pope Berries I had gathered. After I was done, I alone sat at the kitchen table and began eating. A little dirty haired creature crept around the corner and stared at me from the doorway. I placed another plate on the table across from me and waited. A few minutes later a small grubby hand reached up grabbed the fish and disappeared beneath the table. I could hear her loudly eating in the dark bellow me. She seemed to love it because she reached up and fumbled on the plate for more. She snatched up some of the cabbage pulling it beneath the table. The food was quickly returned uneaten except for a single bite. Next she tried a hand full of berries but these did not return like the cabbage had.

When the berries where gone a pair of eyes hidden under a scruffy head of hair peeked up over the edge of the table across from me. I worked hard to ignore her, She grunted and pushed her plate at me. I stilled pretended like she was not there. She pushed her plate closer enduring to get my attention for more food. That was when I acted like I suddenly noticed her for the first time. Her little dark eye gave me the same look that the puppy I had had growing up would give me when he was begging for food. I asked her if she would like some more, and she grunted her confirmation. So I dolled out another piece of fish for her she quickly snatched it and scurried out the door.

After dinner I cleaned up the dishes and started getting ready for bed. I had decided to take up residence in the downstairs guest bedroom, it was on the opposite side of the house from Robin's nest. I do not want to scare her more than I have already, so I am giving her as much space as I can.

May 27, 1954
I am so tiered I can hardly write. My whole body feels like someone has beaten me with a stick. Today all of my hopes came true and all of my fears vanished. I had began to worry that I was wrong and my birds would never show up. I hiked around the valley most of the morning taking note of the small native finches that where nesting here among the lichen covered boulders. My constant companion followed me as she had done for the few days of our acquaintance. I tried hard to pretend she was not there attempting to allow her to act as natural as possible. I wanted to observe her, to learn her habits, and maybe this would shine some light on her life here.

I believe Robin has begun to become adjusted to my presence. She will follow me as I walk slowly around the valley taking in the native plants and animals. Some times she charges ahead diving and darting among the rocks and bushes. She would chase the small mice and birds trying to catch them with her hands. When we ventured down near the edge of the lake she crept up to it and with a strange grace moved from rock to rock till she was a distance from the shore. She perched there above the water and looked thoughtfully into its depths. Robin was perfectly still not moving a muscle for at least ten minutes, and then she suddenly dove into the water with almost no splash. I was stunned that she had made almost no ripples as well and the ones she did make died almost at once.

A few seconds later she broke the surface of the lake and began climb back onto the shore carrying another fish in her mouth. She ran scampering through the muddy shore up to me smiling all the time. Robin dropped the fish at my feet and began jumping and prancing around me in joy. She stopped suddenly and realized that I was with in touching range of her. This made her jump back to a safe distance where she motioned at the fish lying on the ground. I smiled at my provider, at least she could help with our food supply.

She seemed quite proud of her self as she perched on a rock nearby. That was when they came. The sky darkened with a cloud of small blue bird that swarmed over the rim of the valley. It was breathtaking to watch the shifting flock as they massed over head. They flew in a random chaotic patterns in the beautiful blue sky before landing in the scrubby green bushes on the valley floor. I was witnessing a almost holy sight that no one else had seen in a long time, no one except Robin. The bird flocked around her landing here and there on her head, shoulders, and out stretched hands. I took as many pictures of this that I could, only stopping to reload the camera again and again. By the time it was over I had exhausted almost half of my film supply, but if not for these photos I do not think anyone would ever believed me.

May 31, 1954
Spring is finally touching the valley as the bees are hard at work pollinating the berry bushes. I have spent the last few days in rapture of personal discovery. Not of the birds that brought me the thousand miles or so from New York, but her. Robin goes out every morning after breakfast to be with the birds. It is the only thing that we seem to share in common with each other. She has become climatized to my proximity, enough so that I was able to touch her hand and she did not instantly draw away from me.

I am now her shadow as I follow her around the valley. I watch as she moves among the bushes and rocks chasing the mice and other birds away from her little blue friends. The Blue Popes actually seem to favor her as well, they will land on her head and pluck a few stray stands of hair before flying away again to use them in their nest building activity. She seems to allow them to do this with no malice or trepidation on her part, in fact she seems to enjoy it. The bird must have been her only friends all these years. It makes me sad and joyous to think of what her life must have been like all alone in this valley.

I had a great need to relive my self yesterday and went to the outhouse with one of the National Geographic Magazines I had brought with me. I was drawn into the article and had not noted the passage of time or considered the need too. In the middle of the article the door the the old slat wood shack flew open and Robin looked in at me. She seemed to be upset and began touching me on my knees and shins. She was breathing rapidly and I saw tear streaks in the dirt on her face as if she had been crying. Her mood seem to lift when she found me and she seem to need to touch me to assure herself I was real. She smiled happily at me from underneath her dirty hair as she rubbed my knees. I told her it was OK I was just going to the bathroom and would kindly like some privacy.

Her touching and rubbing had progressed above my knees and to my groin, where she encountered my manhood. Her smile faded as she stopped and bent to investigate this strangeness that I seem to possess. She cupped her own groin and found it lacking and that seem to enhance her curiosity. I tried to dissuade her from touching me but it was like playing with a cat as she avoided my hands and kept probing me there. Against all my mental fortitude I found my rod stiffening under her assault. Finally she managed to grasp it firmly in her hand and smiled a big grin like she had won a game or something. I had enough and forcefully expelled her from the latrine.

Although I must confess that night I did pleasure my self in the quiet chapel like darkness of my room. I thought of the girl I had chased in college as I preformed the deed and just when I reached my climax it was not the blond haired librarians face the flashed in my minds eye but Robins. I can not explain it and I am at a loss as to why I write it here, now in these pages. Maybe it was just a fluke occurrence due to her earlier game at the outhouse. I do not think any thing like that will happen again, I hope.

June 2, 1954
The mans name was Peperton he owned a water plane that he used to fly people to remote lakes all over the mountain range. I had met him in the little dust bowl of a town at the end of the tracks where I had set off from to reach my grandfathers land. He had a weathered face, sour attitude, stank of whiskey and chewing tobacco. He had told me it would cost twenty dollars to have him fly the supplies I had brought with me up to the cabin. I gladly paid his fee and told him what day I would be expecting him, but that day came and went with no sight of the old man. Two more days pasted and I was beginning to assume that he was not going to show up. That was when I heard the buzzing of his plane and I walked out into the fields.

Robin burst from the house onto the porch and began looking around for this new noisy intruder. I waved my hat at the old man to get his attention as he banked around looking for a safe approach to the lake. I was concerned that there would not be enough space to land his plane, but true to his word Peperton was able to put down easily on the glassy surface of the lake. His plane nosed up to the shore and ran aground in a heavily muddy area. The old man laughed as he disembarked and shouted greetings to me. I should have realized that I had put the mans life in danger by asking him to come here. Even though I did not know it at the time of my asking.

In my excitement of his arrival I had forgotten all about Robin and our first encounter. I should have warned him, told him to stay in the plane till I had dealt with her safely. Sadly none of these things even crossed my mind, the images of all the supplies he had brought pushed such thoughts to the back of my head. She was a blur as she sprung from the bushes and pounced on the old man. I had not seen her progress or even heard her as she readied her attack. Her sharp kitchen knife that she had put away so many days ago was once again in her hand and flashed with her deadly intent.

I rushed forward as the two rolled on the ground. The old weathered pilot and the little naked girl tussling on the rocky shore of the peaceful lake. Locked in a battle to the death I feared would end badly. When I did manage to finally get there I wrapped my arms around Robin pinning her arms to her sides and lifted her off of her victim. She was once again the wild little animal I had first met on arriving to the valley. She tried to slash at me with the knife she still held in her hand, but as I restrained her I spoke into her ear in the attempt to calm her. I did not go unpunished for my deed because she had managed to inflict several small wounds on my leg and cafe.

The old man regained his feet and seem to be torn between fleeing to his plane and looking at the creature that had attacked him. In the end I calmed Robin enough so she gave me the knife (that I vowed to hide) and slunk back to a safe distance. It took me a hour to explain to Peperton what was going on and in the end he seem to understand the situation. He unloaded my gear refusing to help me carry it to the lodge and I tipped him a extra ten dollars asking him to do some research into Robins identity for me. I also requested he mail two letters for me, one to my mother explaining about my absence, and one to a school friend of mine who was also a ornithologist. The latter contained a picture of Robin smiling and standing in the middle of a flock of Blue Popes as they landed on her. It was one of the photos I had taken on the day of their arrival. I also asked my friend to send aid if he could.

The old man took off into the sky as he left our valley. Going back to the little spot of nowhere on the map he called home with ten dollars and a strange tale. As for me I had a long hard task of carrying the twenty or so bags up to the lodge before night fall. As I write this I am sitting on the couch, warmed by a small fire, and watching my little Robin as she lays on the floor at my feet staring into the dancing flames. She is such a mystery, and my mind seems to be drawn back to the strange encounter we shared the week before. I have tried to exorcise it from my mind, but like some vengeful specter it reappears when I least expect it.

June 5, 1954
Robin is one of the bravest people I have ever met. She has no fear at all. I have watched her bound over the huge boulders in a single leap and scamper through such small tight spaces that I would get claustrophobia. She seems to be made of the hard land it's self, but there is one thing she can not stand up too.

It started yesterday. I noticed that the sky was dark on the north side of the ridge and by afternoon I was certain that rain was coming. The dark heavy bellied clouds skirted over the mountain and dipped down into our valley. They blotted out the sun and when the rain did start to fall it was in large plopping drops that seem to explode on impact. As I stood on the old porch I could hear the dry earth groaning as it greedily drinking the skies gift. I was in awe at the boundless transformations that this land seem to go through. The heavenly flood gates where open and this time there was no biblical boat to save two of every creature.

I looked down to where Robin had been sitting for the past few hours and found her missing. I searched inside and she turned up in her nest clutching the knife I thought I had expertly hidden. her eyes where huge as she looked out from beneath the safety of the blankets. I tried to tempt her out telling her it was only rain and to not be afraid, but she would not budge. I went as far as to fry up some bacon for dinner but not even this seem to lure my little savage mouse out of her den. In the end I resolved to allow her the eccentricities she was use to, as long as she did not hurt her self it would be OK. I could not see why she would be afraid of rain. Then as I was about to climb under the covers into bed it happened.

There was a distant “BOOM” of thunder, and from across the lodge I heard a quick scream. Robin was afraid of thunder. I guess it was not all that uncommon for children to be afraid of the titanic crashes of loud storms. I was sure she had rode out a many of showers alone here and this one would be no different. So I lay in bed listening to the soft roar of the water on the roof. I have never had the occasion to wear bed cloths, and this was a issue for me when I was in college. My roommate balked at me for wondering naked to the toilet in the middle of the night. So as I lay listening to the storm rage outside my hand on it's own accord navigated bellow my waist and began expertly manipulating what it found there. It became something of a chore as the loud discharges outside seem to increase in frequency, but still remained random enough to break my concentration.

For every boom I heard, it was accompanied by a small shriek of terror for the other side of the lodge. This had the strange effect of exciting me and quickened my progress. When I began to feel to first onset of my finally there was the loudest explosion yet. It was so loud it could have been right outside my window. It had the ferocity of some elder pagan gods freed for imprisonment and on a rampage across the country side.

The accompanying rumble of the thunder masked Robins approach so I was unaware of her presence until she had pounced on the bed and burrowed passed me under the covers. She latched on to me and I could feel her trembling in fear of the evil gods outside our walls. I could feel her rapid hot breath against my chest as her small naked body clung to mine. I could almost hear the rapid bird like fluttering of her heart as she pressed hard against me in the dark of my room. I can not tell you why for I do not know my self, but as she lay shivering next to me I could not stop pleasuring myself. Her hot skin touching mine and the fear I could almost smell coming off of her was like a drug. In an instant I found myself peaking in masturbatory ecstasy as her presence pushed me over the edge. To my shame I turned my rod toward her and christened her groin and breasts with my fluids not once, but twice. After I reached bliss the first time I started over and found it progressed so quickly that no more than a minute past since the first discharge. My second eruption hit her face and chest splattering her with more of my gift. I furiously pumped myself till there was no more left and I collapsed.

After my second time I lay there panting and ashamed at what I had done. Robin did not seem to care, her only thoughts where of hiding from the storm. I had fouled this poor little innocent girl with my seed. I was so ashamed I wanted to comfort her so I wrapped my arms around her small shivering naked body in a protective cocoon, shielding her from the storm that ragged on outside our lodge. The source of my shame lay between us still as hard and erect as it had been when I soiled her. I could not sleep, her whimpers and cries kept me alert all through the night. Once when another loud crash occurred some where nearby she did something that broke my heart and made my deed feel even worse.

When the lightning struck with a thunderous boom she flinched and grasped at me the only person she had, and I heard her bark out the word “Daddy”.

June 6, 1954
It is the morning after the storm and we had both slept in late. When I awoke the bright sun was streaming through the windows into my room. It was a stark contrast from the apocalyptic night before. Robin was still quietly sleeping next to me under the blankets, and I could only see her disheveled hair peeking out. I made every attempt to stay perfectly still as to not disturb her, but only a few minutes later she began to stir as well.

I did not want to frighten her, she maybe fearless but she was very cautious. I did not want her to panic upon waking to find us sharing such intimate sleeping arrangements. I had worked hard to form a bond with her and it could easily be broken if she was to react wrong to the encounter. So I stayed as still as possible and allowed her to awaken to her situation. I felt the instant that she became aware of our circumstances because she suddenly flinched and became ridged. I struggled to control my breathing, and not let her become aware I was awake. I felt her head move under the covers and I felt small little fingers poking my stomach. She traced my muscles underneath my skin and her finger dipped into my belly button. Robin was really testing me because I was trying hard not to start giggling, because I am very ticklish.

Her exploration kept heading down and I became aware that I had a excellent case of morning stiffness. The memory of the outhouse incident replayed in my minds eye. Now I could not move for fear of scaring her, I could not dodge her questing fingers this time. I felt her probing moving below my waist and to my groin. I felt her run her little fingers trough my tuft of curly hair at the base of my shaft. Her touch was like soft little feathers as she explored my genitals. She was not rough as she stroked my testicles and I felt her light touch begin to rub my rod as she questioned it's alien stiffness.

She was becoming more playful as she ran her fingers across my erection, and I could feel my loins stirring. I saw her head disappear deeper under the covers and heard her sniffing my male member. Then in the blink of a eye she pulled back my foreskin and licked me from halfway down my shaft to the very tip. That was all it took for me to succumb to the pleasures of nature. The timing was incredible too because when she reached the tip of my manhood I ejaculated forcefully into her mouth. Robin did not pull away in surprise instead she rested her lips on my twitching staff and waited till I was done. I had to fight my urge to take her head and force my self past her little lips.

The pleasure I experienced as she tested my male parts lasted for some time. Her desire to touch and experience me seem to go on forever. When she finally emerged from under the covers our eyes met and I expected her to bolt upon realizing I was awake. Instead she just smiled at me with those beautiful sparkling eyes and nuzzled closer against my body. This had to be the most contact she had ever had with another person in her life. It seem to break down what ever barriers she had erected and as she lay there with her little head resting on my chest I heard her clearly call me daddy once again.

We spent a good portion of the day just laying in the warm confines of the bed until she seem to feel the need to relieve her self. She did not return and soon after I too rose. I do not understand how this will change our relationship if at all, but I hope it is for the better.

June 10, 1954
so much has changed over the last few days I do not know where to begin. Robin has taken to sleeping with me every night now, and she seems to find endless fun in touching me before we fall asleep. I do not know if this is a wise decision to allow her to keep doing this, but I honestly have no desire to stop her. It now seems to be the favorite part of her day, and she has allowed me in small measures to touch her back.

During the day I watch her as she goes about the valley seeing to the birds. It is almost like it is her job to care for these animals. She gathers nesting material for them leaving it in little piles for the birds swarm over and fly back with sticks to their bushes as they build their nests. I now see a similarity between the Blue Popes nests and the one Robin slept in. she shares a strange relationship with these birds I will never understand.

I have also unlocked part of Robins past. It happened when she stole one of my nature magazines. It seemed she likes the pictures of the people in them. She will stare for hours at the books and I have caught her mimicking what she sees in the photos. She seems to be fond of one picture of a man and a woman in a deep romantic kiss. She has even tried to copy the photo by kissing me on the lips. I did not really mean too but I showed her how it is meant to be done by giving her a slow full kiss. When our lips parted she let out a deep sigh and smiled at me. Some how I could tell that she was aroused by this, and that night she did not want to touch me only to kiss over and over again. I even slipped her a little tongue, but I do not think she liked that.

It was several days ago I was startled when I heard Robin start crying loudly and yelling for me repetitively. When I rushed inside I found her curled up in her nest crying her eyes out. When I went to comfort her she clung to me and refused to let go for hours. Eventually I got her to calm down, and she fell asleep in our bed. I now call it our bed, that is strange. I am sharing my bed with a savage little girl who can be no older then ten. Is it wrong? So in my investigation of what had caused her to become so upset I stumbled across one of my magazines thrown into the corner of the room. It was not hard to guess the picture that had upset her so badly.

It was half way through the book and took up one whole page. It had been taken in Australia somewhere from inside a house and depicted a man standing in the doorway of a cabin. Outside the weather was grim and the photographer had captured the image just as lightning had struck in the background silhouetting the man. This image of a man going out into a storm had traumatized her so badly, and Robin was also afraid of thunder storms. So it was not a far leap for me to see her real father finding this lodge and telling Robin to stay while he went back out into the storm for some reason. Maybe to find his wife, or another child. Who knows but what I do know is he never came back, and she was left here alone.

June 13, 1954
I seem to have a calming effect on Robin because when Mr. Peperton returned yesterday Robin did not try and kill him. She was actually civil, or as civil as Robin gets. She approached him and from the safety of my back she watched the old man as we discussed my plans to leave the valley at the beginning of July. Peperton Made a good point to me though. Robin will not be allowed to wonder around back in the real world in the half naked state she is always in. I asked him to please bring something she could wear with him next time he came, and promised to pay him when I was able. He told me not to bother that a man had been to see him. The man had been sent by my mother and gave Peperton a thousand dollars to make sure I made it back safely. My mother has always been overly protective, and it annoys me sometimes.

He also had a letter from my friend asking me to send more information about the Blue Popes, but to be honest they really do not interest me anymore. After that stormy night me and Robin spent together she is really the only bird that holds my focus. Before the old man left he knelt down to eye level with Robin and offered her a sweet. He said he had four grand kids her age and all kids like sweets. She had cautiously taken it from him looking it over not sure what to do with it, but when the old man popped one in his own mouth she did the same. Her eyes lit up as the sugary treat exploded with new alien tastes, Peperton had made a friend from a enemy. He even let her touch his cracked and wrinkly face as a sign of affection.

I am scared for my Robin. If she gets back to civilization how will she fit in? I swear this, I will exhaust my trust fund before I let them take her off to some squalid orphanage. I mite not be able to hire the best lawyers money can buy but I can damn sure get an army of expensive ones. The one thing Peperton gave me that inspired hope was a news clipping about a man who had stumbled into town eight years ago and died soon after. He was on a camping trip with his wife and two daughters, and they where all presumed dead. The article did give the family’s names, so it was a toss up. Robins real name could be Lisa or Carol. Well it does not matter to me she is Robin who's hair is the color of the robins breast.

June 20, 1954
so much to write about, July is fast approaching and it feels like every day is slipping by faster. All my studies on the Blue Pope is done and I can focus all my attention on Robin. I have at long last managed to give her a bath. I found a old washtub and filled it full of hot soapy water. At first she would have nothing to do with it but when I stripped and climbed in she suddenly became curious. I halfheartedly shooed her off which made her even more determined to investigate the strange new wonder. Finally she lept over the edge and joined me. I washed and she mimicked me, and after some getting use to she allowed me to wash her. Shamefully I will say that I purposely lost the washcloth when I went to scrub her lower parts. I slowly touched and felt her small little lips under the surface on the water. At first she was reluctant to allow me, but after a few minutes she leaned back and let me have my way with all of her. I think she really enjoyed it to because she spread her legs and let me penetrate her with two fingers.

After our bath I was able to introduce her to a hair brush with little resistance and then it was off to bed. We lay in the warm quiet of our bed together listening to each other breath. She was the first to do anything. As I lay on my back she climbed on top of me and began to kiss me slowly on the lips. I returned her affection and was surprise when she invaded my mouth with her tongue. I rubbed her small clean naked body as I worked my way down to her backside. I was hard and I could feel her little parts pushing down on that stiffness. I took her small body in my hands and began sliding her up and down on my rod, her lips ridding my erection like a rail. I listen to her grunt and moan as she suddenly jerked and let out a muffled cry through clenched teeth. She had climaxed. Her ten year old body shook and quivered as she repeated it over and over. I too found myself approaching my release. That was when robin stopped and reaching down between her legs and grabbed my manhood. She moved it so that it was between her legs aimed at her special little hole. I told her that was not a good idea, but she grunted her insistence that I penetrate her. I knew it would hurt her and so with trepidation I slowly began to nudge my member in Robin's small secret. At first I was right she cried but held in her screams. I was trying to go easy on her, but she started helping by pushing more in till finally I felt my self sink all the way into her. The feeling of her little body wrapped around me was the most amazing thing imaginable. We slowly started to move. Thrusting against each other in slow rhythmic motions, I could see a few inches of my erection come out of her and go back in with every trust. She started moaning louder as we picked up speed. I could see her belly bulge outward every time I went into her. She kept pace with me but she wanted to go fasted until at last I released a jet of fluid deep inside her little body. She cried out at the same time in pure pleasure at our union.

Robin collapsed of top of me panting and sweating. We lay like that for some time until she sat upright still straddling me. She smiled at me with her sly little grim, and patted her stomach. In the dim darkness I could see it was poking out just a little. I had made a perfect seal and none of my juice had leaked out, it was all still in there. We went twice more, and by the time we where done I could see and feel a large bulge in her belly. It would be too messy and try to pull out tonight. So we fell asleep in that position. If there really is a heaven in the afterlife it is pale in comparison to what I felt then for Robin.

July 1, 1954
I am writing a short entry, Peperton is here to take us back to the real world. Our private happiness is over and I fear the real work is about to begin. As I sit in our bedroom I can see my little Robin preforming her job of laying out nesting material for the bird although none of them seem to need it anymore. Most of the nests now have eggs in them and in a few weeks will begin to hatch. She is not the same feral creature that gave me the scar on my arm anymore. She seem to almost be a real little girl with two red pigtails and a beautiful yellow sun dress. I have tried to get her to wear shoes but even saints do not have that kind of patience.

I am leaving this book here. If I took it back and some one found the confessions in its pages... I don’t know what mite happen. I hope to some day return.

February 15, 1955
It has been some time since I have written in this book. A lot has happened. Me and Robin have returned to my grandfathers Lodge in Blue Pope Valley, Robin chose the name. She wants to be ready for when the birds return. I will hazard a guess that she will probably need help tending to the birds this year. She did not do as well as I had hoped back in the real world, New York was not for her. Actually I should say she was not for New York. A few months after our return I had to bail her out of jail after she bit the ear off a guy who had tried to mug and rape her. She is still a wild thing, and the mother of our baby.

As I write this she is laying in the warmth of our bed next to me. Neither of us ever wear anything to bed and so I can feel her large swollen belly between us as she snuggles up to me for the night. She is expecting in a few weeks and we wanted to have our first child here where we met. Robin still calls me daddy even though I have tried to teach her my name. It is one of the reasons we came back here. It was almost two months ago and robin was really beginning to show when the police came to our house asking about her. Seems a nosy neighbor had reported her as a endangered child, but I had that already figured out. I had paperwork drawn up saying she was a immigrant and that we where married. I explained to the officers that her people where small in stature, and went as far as to show them some of the pygmy tribes in my naturalist book. Robins lack of understanding English helped out our story too.

It seems I was a little off about Robins age, turns out she is thirteen, well fourteen now. She was left here alone when she was only five and live for eight years without any other human contact. She is fond of taking my hand and putting it on her stomach and saying “egg” or “baby”. She has been slowly expanding her vocabulary and is a very quick learner. My family was hard pressed to understand the relationship we share. My brother has asked me not to visit his family anymore, I guess he fears I will soil his three daughters.

I think back to that stormy night that we shared together as the best time of our lives. No wait that’s wrong, the best day of our lives was the morning after.

the old woman closed the book and returned it to the shelf next to the picture of her late husband. Touching the image encased in the silver frame she whispers one word “daddy”

Thank you for reading this.
I hope you found as much joy in your adventure through it as I did writing it. Now it is time to close our story, the dragon has been slain, all the aliens are dead, the robots are packed away, and our heroes have walked off into the sun set. So from me to you once again thank you and safe journey.

Anonymous 14/11/20(Thu)12:26 No. 22833 ID: 52c0ad

Excellent, certainly a good read. Thanks for sharing

Anonymous 14/11/24(Mon)02:34 No. 22866 ID: 8afae3

indeed a good reading.
thanks for sharing

The+Other+Rick 14/11/26(Wed)16:46 No. 22872 ID: 4e2dc8

That is honestly book-worthy. I mean yeah, it has spelling errors, but honestly, this story is awesomely laid out, and with little change and some elongation, it really could be a book. Thank you op.

Anonymous 15/03/17(Tue)01:25 No. 23382 ID: 52c0ad

Thought about this today, so bumping it for further exposure.

Andrew Lewis 18/03/09(Fri)08:56 No. 25441 ID: 23ae83

This is too much quality to be the last story on the last page.
Bump to recessitate.

Anonymous 18/04/14(Sat)06:05 No. 25509 ID: ec175d

I can't find the words to express how amazing this story is. So I will just say "this is fucking great! "

Anonymous 18/04/19(Thu)19:07 No. 25513 ID: c001b8

spiderfiend. I read this when you first posted it and loved the style in which you wrote it. I don't know why, but didn't comment at the time as I should have done, so I hope this doesn't come too late and that you still view this occasionally. Excellent story and I would love to see more from you, as I'm sure others would too. If there is anyone else out there who enjoyed this take less than 5 minutes to let the author know. Thanks again

Anonymous 18/04/21(Sat)04:24 No. 25516 ID: 7232f7

this is an amazing story. truly, i mean it

Anonymous 22/09/21(Wed)20:02 No. 27671 ID: 6679cf

bump (idk if it'll work on a thread this old)

Anonymous Anonymous 24/04/09(Tue)22:49 No. 27974 ID: 9ff56f

The Epilog sealed the story with a perfect ending. Brought the story full circle. So Robin survived 8 years in a wilderness so 5 years old when abandoned. Quite the survivalist.
Truly good read, understandable and with color and flavor bringing us in. But that Epilog.
You should publish more.

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