Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 What She Wished For

   By Deadly Crystal

   Synopsis: All 11 year-old Abby wants is to get raped.  It happens all
the time at her favoite website, sloppywhores.com.  Why won't anybody
respond to her attentions the way she wants them to?  When she decides to
try her luck with a local drug-trafficking gang, she finally gets what she
wished for...  and a lot more.
WARNING: This story involves rape, child sexuality, and a very brief
mention of "the clap." Also, I watched "Weeds" right before writing this,
so the character of Carjack is heavily influenced from the character of
UTurn on that show, particularly the language and the use of certain words
which I would never say in conversation.  This is just a story.  E-mail me
with questions and comments at DeadlyCrystal@gmail.com!

   ------- What She Wished For

   Abigai was livid.  When she and her best friend Lauryl had discovered
the delights of mutual masturbation at the tender age of four, they had
both assumed it was a good feeling you could only get late at night with
the lights off after at least 20 minutes of whispering to one another. 
Then Lauryl had moved to Georgia and Abby had been cut off.  It wasn't
until a Reader's Digest entry about a rape victim that had persevered
through hard troubles unexpectedly turned Abby on that the then nine
year-old had discovered that the same feeling could be achieved on one's
own, with the aid of a shampoo bottle and a rolled-up towel.

   For two straight years now she had been logging on to sloppywhores.com,
a website whose content you can probably imagine, and she knew how the
story went.  A girl's budding sexuality excites her father against his
will, and he subdues her and makes her his sex slave.

   The thought of this happening was immensely exciting.  Stories with
titles like "Amber, Daddy's Slut" were practically all she read for months
at a time.  It wasn't that she was particularly excited at the thought of
her father's sexuality.  He was a middle-aged man with greying red hair and
(she had seen it at the beach once) a slightly undersized dick.  It was the
idea of domination that excited her.  The raw violence.

   The problem was, it didn't work.  Like the girls in her story, Abby
started prancing around in tight shorts and cut-off t-shirts.  Her father
suggested that she go with her step-mother, a very sweet woman named
Louise, to buy new clothes.  Like those little whores in "Teenage
Fuckslave," she sat on her father's lap and ground her bottom against her
daddy's dick, trying to make it perk up until he lost control over himself
and fucked her right then and there, in front of Abigail's half-brother
Caleb.  Her father had laughed and tossled her hair, saying Abby must have
an attack of the "itchies." Even the tube-top with gold-glitter "SLUT"
written across the front only made him frown and mutter that he was going
to write an angry letter to Abercrombie and Fitch.  The slutty tube top
always worked at sloppywhores.com!

   Okay, maybe Daddy was a bust.  She decided to forge a relationship with
Brian, an old friend of mom's who had hiked around with her during her
stoner days.  He had been staying with her mother until he could find an
apartment within his price range.  She knew from kitchen whispers that he
was a convicted sex-offender, although he claimed that it was the meth that
made him do it.  Whatever that meant.  She hardly made it two steps into
his bedroom before his eyes widened and he shook his head violently.  "No
way I'm going back there," she heard him grumble to himself as he shoved
her out of the door, rudely ignoring her micro mini with no underpants
underneath.  "That path only leads to trouble and prison rape." SLAM! 
There went her opportunity.  Apparently Brian was reformed.  What a bummer.

   Ever persistent, Abby started rolling up her uniform skirt and bending
over in front of her male teachers at school to let them see her Hot Topic
Hello Kitty thong.  The problem with this was that Abby went to a
conservative Catholic school, which meant that all of her classmates rolled
their uniform skirts and wore skanky thongs underneath.  Teachers probably
thought she was quaint to even have something as innocent as Hello Kitty
down there.  All Abigail knew was that this was pissing her straight off.
In desperation she tried a move that always worked in stories- she slowly
opened her legs as the teacher was speaking and touched herself, spreading
open her pussy in the middle of class.  It might have worked if she hadn't
tried it with Mr.  Britley, a legally blind science teacher hired in the
spirit of equal opportunity.  No one even noticed.

   This was the last straw.  Her dad didn't want to fuck her, skeezy Brian
didn't even want to give her and her very expensive mini skirt the time of
day, and apparently her dumbass fifth grade teachers wouldn't notice if she
took off all her clothes and started humping a desk corner in class.  She
was at a loss for what to do.

   In a huff, she gathered everything together.  She threw away the Hello
Kitty thong, tore up the micro mini so it became barely more than a bathing
suit coverup, exposing both portions of her tush and her vagina, and cut
deliberate holes around her nipples in the tube top.  She strapped on some
five-inch heels which she had stolen from the back of her mother's closet,
stumbling as she walked in the too-large fuck-me pumps.  She rummaged
through her father's liquor cabinet until she found some Wild Turkey and
swigged back some, coughing harshly and throwing the bottle to the side,
not even bothering to close the cabinet as she left.  She was sick of this
bullshit.

   An agonizingly long walk later, worsened by frequently trips and spills
caused by brick-red shoes, and Abigail was in the ghetto.  Dusk was
falling, and she could hear a distant boom box blaring.  She mustered up
her courage and cleared her throat.

   "HELLO!" she cried out, a little tipsy from the bourbon.  "In CASE
anybody cares," she continued, "I am a little girl.  I am eleven.  I am a
VIRGIN.  I am White and middle class and my family strongly disapproves of
abortion.  I bet if I got knocked up and had a Black baby they'd kick me
out of the house and I'd have to be a prostitute and get addicted to crack
and stuff.  So...  I'm still standing here!  Still a virgin!  You'll notice
my young and tiny body is totally cock-free at the moment if anybody would
like to do something about that!" She frowned fiercely at this and decided
to go for broke, wiggling out of what remained of the jean skirt so all
that remained were the tatters of the SLUT shirt and the hooker shoes.  For
several horrible seconds the street was without sound, and Abby was
terrified that maybe a girl just couldn't get raped in the city.  Maybe all
those stories were fantasy and all little girls grew up to be healthy
individuals who only slept with their spouses.  Then she heard a sound from
behind her.

   "If I fuck you, little girl, will you shut the fuck up?"

   Abigail didn't have a chance to respond, because she was being dragged
along the pavement toward a dark alleyway.  She could feel strong arms
under her own, and smell sharp sweat.  Quicker than she had anticipated,
she was dropped onto a creaky mattress.  Those same strong arms lifted her
legs in the air.  A fly was unzipped, and the thud of a belt buckle was
loud as it hit the floor.  She was just wishing she could have a video tape
of all this when she felt a hot poke down near where she liked to touch
herself.  It was an inquisitive gesture, unguided bouncing for a few
moments while her partner's jeans slid to the floor.  She noticed with glee
that he was not wearing a condom.  That would have ruined it.  The men
never wore condoms in the story.  She took their pleasure as it pleased
them, they ripped through whores likeAAGH!!!  SHIT!  That hurt like fuck!
The man on top of her, who Abigail could make out as a very well-muscled
Black man, pushed inside of her as if she were a well-oiled whore instead
of an unbroken virgin.  He did not seem to be respecting the significance
of the moment as he lifted her legs higher in the air for better access, as
he pulled them apart, trying to make her more open for him.  When Abby
tried to look into his face, thinking perhaps she needed to tell him that
he should try to make it feel good near the end so she would want to be his
sex slave, he used the hand that was not holding up her legs to shove her
back down on the bed.

   He continued to drill into her.  Abby knew she should be happy, and she
did get a little excited when she felt the wetness below and knew that he
had broken her hymen.  She would have preferred the neighborhood priest or
a rarely-seen uncle but this would do.  She just wished it would hurt less
now, that it had gone on for what seemed like so very many minutes.  It did
not.  It still hurt, hurt like a motherfucker.  She was relieved when she
felt a squirty wetness shoot up deep inside, both because no good rape
story ended without the rapist cumming inside his victim, and because it
meant that he was done.  She started crying when he finished, something she
had counted on, as it was another fixture of her favorite kind of
literature.  To her surprise, when he pulled out he didn't let her get up.
Instead, he sat on top of her.  Ouch!

   "Alright, my brothers, where you think this bitch come from." It was
less a question than an angry growl, and Abigail was shocked to notice
several other Black men in the room with them.  She supposed she hadn't
been in a position to notice before.  The way he was sitting on her, with
his balls laying on her stomach and his ass near her face, made her very
uncomfortable.

   A large fat man stepped forward.  "It's gotta be the Mexicans, Carjack.
They been creepin in on our turf for too long now.  Maybe this their way of
sending a message, tryin to make good with us."

   The man then crushing the air out of Abigail thought about this.  "I
don't know, bra, this little bitch sure don't look Mexican." He reached
down to her cunt and wiggled his finger inside.  He sniffed.  "She don't
smell Mexican either."

   They all laughed.  A skinny acorn-colored man spoke.  "Only thing ho
smells like now is nigger dick." More laughter.  "Come on, Carjack, you
know how some of those Spics can be.  Light skinned as fuck, don't even
look Latina half the time.  I say this bitch a peace offering from the
wetbacks."

   This was getting a bit too much for Abigail.  She was just about ready
to go back to suburbia and throw away all of her slutty clothes, even the
tiny short shorts that made her wet every time she put them on.  She had
had her experience and now she wanted to go home.  The large man on top of
her turned to look at her.

   "If that's the case then I guess those burrito-eatin fucks finally got
something right.  I might not even jack they horse like I was thinkin
about." He leaned in toward Abby and abruptly kicked his leg over to the
other side of her until he was straddling the girl, his dick resting on her
chest.

   "Looks like they done real good with this one." He inched forward to the
girl's mouth, and rested his balls at her lips.

   This was when Abigail learned a few things that sloppywhores.com
neglected to inform its readers.  For starters, getting fucked in the mouth
is no fun at all.  It made her lips puffy and hurt her throat, and cum
frankly tasted horrible.  She spent a great deal of her time with a cock in
her mouth after that first fuck.  Her captors insisted it was the only way
to keep a bitch quiet.

   Secondly, it was simply impossible for the gangsters to fuck her ass
like they wanted to for a good deal of time.  Abigail had assumed that with
enough lubrication anything was possible, but the men's thick cocks pushed
and prodded their way around her asshole, but could not seem to manage to
fit inside.  It hurt a lot, and made going to the bathroom painful, but she
felt glad that this was one hole they didn't seem to be able to penetrate.

   This exception went away when Milo, a gaunt Puerto Rican delivery boy,
had ass-fucked her without even asking the gang's permission.  She had
simply awoken to her cheeks being spread and his pencil dick springing its
way inside.  The gang was upset at first, but got over it once they saw it
was possible.  The next week she was taking equally as many cocks up her
ass as she was in the mouth and pussy, and she realized another way
sloppywhores had tricked her.

   It simply- she thought, as yet another thick dick tore up her asshole,
pushing up into her bowls, Isn't pleasant- she continued, as the fat member
pumped in and out, To get fucked- she thought, as a different gang member
laid his cock on her tongue and sleepily demanded that she suck like a good
bitch In the ass- she finished, as she felt the warm squish up her
digestive canal and tasted the bleachy, salty flavor of cum.

   She couldn't get pregnant.  She knew this, since they learned Sex Ed at
Sunday School and she knew a woman had to have periods to get pregnant. 
Abigail was shorter than most of her classmates and hadn't begun puberty in
any significant way.  Since Sex Ed had consisted on "don't have sex until
you're married or the devil will get you," she didn't know much more than
that and whatever she got from the smut stories she liked to read.

   So when she awoke to a harsh kick in the side and Carjack accusing her
of giving his boys "the clap," she had no idea what he meant.  She knew
that sucking him off usually tended to improve his bad mood, but when she
reached for his cock through his jeans he batted her away.

   "Bitch, you wanna give me something else now?  You infected, ho.  You a
dried-up ol' infected whore and you no good to nobody."

   It had been almost three months after that fateful dusk that Abigail saw
the outside again.  Her gang dropped her off at the side of the road, with
the usual threats that if she said a word of what went down they would kill
her and her family.  She had, as they reminded her, asked for what had
happened to her.  Still assuming she was Mexican, they dropped her off in
the Hispanic part of town, almost twice the distance in the wrong way.

   So it was naked and chilly that Abby walked the miles along the train
track back to her house.  She hugged herself as she walked, so disoriented
to be out in the open air again.  Sharp rocks cut into her feet and she
wished she were in her bed at home.

   Three months ago she would have noticed the vagrant walking just behind
her on the tracks so late at night.  She probably would have welcomed it,
then.  Stranger rape had been her favorite kind of rape story, just under
father rape, teacher rape, and gang rape.  But now she kicked and screamed
as she felt his arms grab her from behind, as she felt the cold steel of
the train tracks under her back as the old man stuck his tongue down her
throat and thrust his cock into her, clutching handfuls of ass as he pulled
her onto him.  She clawed at him as he pushed deep inside, as the bottoms
of her thighs were scraped across the rocks.  She spat his tongue out of
her mouth and cried out as she sensed him nearing completion, trying to
back away from him as he emptied himself inside her.  Funny, cum felt the
same gushing inside her no matter the race.  She finally managed to pull
away from him, and ran away at full speed down the tracks once she broke
free.  The jizz dripped down the inside of her leg and she wiped it away
with disgust.

   "I hope you got whatever I'm infected with, you sick shit," she called
over her shoulder as she ran away.

   "Yeah, you too!" he called back.

   Dirty, naked, skinny as a rail, she climbed up the deck steps to the
home she hadn't seen for so long and it felt like she had been gone for
years.  She managed one exhausted pound on the locked French door before
she passed out from sheer tiredness on the rug outside.

   When her father found her, it was after two o'clock in the morning.  The
cat had curled up next to her and was keeping her warm.  During the months
she had been gone they had all but given her up for dead, and to find her
again was an unbelievable joy.  Abby's father decided that he would alert
the authorities in the morning, but for tonight he would let his daughter
sleep.

   In the family's efforts to find her they had examined her internet
usage, and Abigail's dad had been stunned at the content of her web site
selection, particularly a very dirty sloppywhores.com.  One thing that
could be said about it was that it had opened him to a whole new range of
fantasies, and it must be admitted that as he looked at his young daughter
splayed on the bed, filthy and smelling of sex, he was sorely tempted to
enact some of the filthier father/daughter rape stories he had read on the
site.  The thought of it gave him an erection quicker than his wife had
been able to do in years.  And she looked so ready for it.  He reached out
and brushed a finger along the inside of her labia.  He gulped.

   But then he sighed, and resigned himself to masturbation, that is if
Joyce was still asleep.  Some things are best left in fantasy, after all.

   The End

   Author's Note: In case you think that eleven is too young to spend time
at erotica websites, I can personally vouch that I was getting off at
masturbation.com by the age of ten.  Maybe my parents shouldn't have let me
on the computer alone at that age, but the fact is that some kids mature
faster than others!  If you like what you read here, send me your favorite
fantasy/fetish and I'll try to use it in my next story!
   -Deadly Crystal DeadlyCrystal@gmail.com