Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 {Warning: I don't usually say it, but this one is particularly nasty. 
Specifically, it involves the sexual exploitation of children, including
rape, sex slavery, sodomy, incest, and sadistic erotic torture.  There's
also some Transvestite/gender themes.
To be more explicit, it's about childporn, prostitution, slavery, and
sex tourism rings.  Not a little, or even a lot, but pervasive thoughout,
with rare interludes of age appropriate consentual sex, mostly for

contrast. It's not glorified, and I even try to vilify it.

   If you are a survivor of molestation, or other sexual exploitation as a
child, or teen, there's probably something in here capable of triggering
flashbacks.  I feel that I have to take you through the mindset to
understand certain characters.  Bare with me.

   Story code notes: CP is childporn, and c is for children, gender
indiscriminate.}

   Back East (Mb/g Pedo Rape CP)

   "Congraduations, son." Like always, I tried not to wince.  I forced
myself to relax against him.

   "Thanks, John." It wasn't him, he was always so kind to me.  Holding me
at arms lenth, his uniform immaculate for the occasion.

   "I'm so proud of you," he let go my arms, and I could fully relax.  No
ceremony or nothing, just a trade school.  He walked me to the campus store
to pick up my Associate's.  "Billy Yuen," he handed me the certificate,
"Private investigator."

   "Wish it come with a badge," I shrugged, and folded the two pages of
card stock.  "Or something." At least a photo ID, I carefully punched out
the perforated edge, and tucked it into my wallet.

   "You want a ride home?" he walked me out to the parking lot.

   "S'ok," I got my keys out, "My car's here." It chirped, with a press of
the button.  Not an affectation, I'd be carrying a weapon when I needed
too, so security is actually an issue.  Otherwise, I'd leave my windows
down so the stoner college kids wouldn't have to break my windows to find
out the door's unlocked because there's nothing of value inside.

   "Why do I get the feeling," as I got in behind the wheel, "I'm not going
to see you again.

   "Bye," I couldn't close the door with his thumb in the way, up on the
top of the frame.  "Dad."

   He stepped back, and I didn't slam it on him, just started it up with a
screeching belt, no idea what one.  "Fucking passive aggressive control
freak." Yeah, cop!  Detective actually, not really a father figure, if I'm
any judge.

   Sad, really.  I watched him walk to his car, a sedan, practically an
unmarked cruiser.  He never did anything but rescue me, mentor me, keep me
in line, make me a better man.  His idea to go private, instead of the
force, less official, but not as much oversight.  I might could make some
money at it, but I'd look for that kind of job when I was done.

   But still, I shrank back whenever he touched me.  Not like that, never,
but I still couldn't never call him dad.  He wasn't my father, but neither
were they.  Still made me call them "daddy," along with everthing else.

   I drove home, straight, and safe, even though I was crying.  Once I got
inside, I didn't relock the door behind me, but pulled open the drawer next
to it.  Dropping in my keys, I picked up my gun, unlatched the cylinder,
and tucked 5 rounds in.

   [Ladysmith] on the frame as it snapped shut, I tucked it in my pocket.
Much better security than any lock, or alarm, I could finally relax.  My
sadness, and fear went away, but was slowly replaced with anger as I walked
into the living room.

   The box on the table, already opened, and partly unpacked when I had to
go to school, and get my paperwork.  I sighed, opened the ziplock full of
photos labeled [Evidence:] in red.  He wasn't in them, the bastard, but I
was, naked, helpless.

   I wiped away tears, and spread them out.  So young, cute even, looking
up at the camera with my thin eyes opened wide.  Hairless, just the little
dingle hanging between my legs, scrotum tight with wrinkles, darker than
the normal pale tan of my skin.

   Another, the only Polaroid, a differn't place, and I remember it
vaguely. Even younger, lying on the green couch with the green fuzzy
cushions.  One leg over the other, squeezing myself hard like he showed me,
the little pinky sticking out.

   I closed my eyes, remembered, the "Kzzt!" of the camera, Him standing
over me, his face.  He sent it away, barely let me see it develop, then got
on the sofa with me.  I shook my head, dropped it on the stack of pictures,
and opened another bag.  The movies, mostly small reels of film.

   I distracted myself a little while setting up the projector, and making
sure the blinds were tight across the windows.  I didn't want anyone to
see, don't want to watch it myself, but I have to.  "Face it," I told
myself, "you have to get past it," see if there's any clues they missed.

   It clattered, and flickered to life.  The next to oldest, no title, just
straight to the action.  A girl, I remembered her.  Blonde, pretty, young,
maybe about 7, not even close to starting the changes, becoming a woman.

   What was her name?  "Cathy," no, to harsh in the middle.  "Carrie?"
definitely CsomethingY, or ie, "Cammy?" Closer, "Cory, Callie, Katie,
Cristy, .  ?"

   She smiled, a gap, incisor growing out to replace it.  Blushing, her
hands pulled out her shirt, and her face disappeared behind it.  Flat
chest, no training bra, tiny nipples, pink on her pale skin, round patches
just hiding her ribs, freckles on her shoulders.

   Behind her, the green sofa, out of focus, but recognizable from my
blurred memory.  Four legs hanging down, my distinctive skin tone, and His,
adult, but hairless, stubbly against mine, the way He smelled.

   "No," i need useful information, a picture I could show someone, ask
about.  Something recognizable, an artist's impression wouldn't do it.

   She bends over, sliding down her skirt.  The camera moves down, she's
kneeling, white cotton panties, soft swell curving back from her pubis,
pulled tight from her thighs, just the hint of a crease.  She's reaching
up, taking him in her mouth, smiling around the bulging head.

   Then, it spins, the room panning sickeningly with the motion of the
camera.  The den, in the old house, you can see the other side of the room,
the VCR, chord hanging, then bending back up to the camera.  View panning
down to the little girl, blonde curls hiding her face, the hairless crotch
of the man standing over her.

   Down to her legs, folded on the floor, his knees bent slightly, long
slim pale back, white swell of her bottom, squished on her heels.  Another
pan, over the coffee table.  The back of my head, no sound, but the screams
loud in my head, over the ratcheting clack of the projector.

   It was loud in my ear, hot across it, and my cheek.  I turned to it
before opening my eyes, finding the [On- Off_] switch.  The bright wall
flickered, dimmed, my back, bottom, His belly.

   Reaching around the projector, I clicked on the lamp, unrolled the front
spool, held it up.  I was barely an official PI, and it didn't come with an
Instakit.  {(c) Sykospark.net} What I needed was the archetypal magnifying
glass, from an archive of fictional investigators, obsolete film noirs, and
"hard boiled" novels.

   Fictions, but I guessed the cliche' came from somewhere.  I have an OED,
the two volume set with the microtype, and a little drawer on the top. 
Another anachronism, I never used it, needed to look up Certes, or Fathom.

   I checked the library, not on the shelves, nor in any of the boxes.  I
had more books than cases, so I went across the hall to the study.  Living
alone with a 3 bedroom, I had lots of space.  There, buried in a stack
behind another, I slid it aside enough to pull open the little drawer.

   Battered, the rectangular glass with the handle diagonal from the black
plastic frame dropped out into my hand.  Heading back to the living room, I
made myself as comfortable as possible, and reached back to the cooling
projector.

   About 8, or 9 inches back, 2, or 3 frames filled the glass.  Blurry out
to the ends, a centered frame was clear.  I found the pans around the room,
the high one with the television in the background, being used as a
monitor.

   Just passed across the room, the camcorder was sitting on the VCR.  On
screen, it showed the other side of the room, Him on his knee behind me,
turned to the camera, partly obscured by the one in his hand.  The next
frame was distorted, some of the screen refreshing, but it was the wrong
face.

   "Bobby," Thorpe.  It would've helped, blown up, and enhanced for his
trial, but he was already in prison.  A professional pornographer, they
showed this, as well as other movies he had, the pictures and my testimony.
He could be getting raped right now, gang raped for all I know.

   What I needed a line on was the other guy, my first "Daddy," holding the
cam-corder with what's her name.  It was a split level, stairs up to a
kitchen you couldn't see, the foyer, and more stairs up to the bedrooms,
and upstairs bathroom.

   Back east, somewhere.  The sun set ahead as He drove me away, and again
before we got here, to the desert, and mountains.  Not enough information
to trace back, more hilly, and green than rocky, and dry from what I could
remember.  Somewhere in the south, everbody says I got a southern accent.

   I was "home schooled," didn't have any friends, and all the other kids
looked at me weird whenever daddy took me out.  I was the only Asian
looking one, and all the ones on TV were light skinned.  I never talked to
any of them.

   Not wanting to look at it any more, I set down the glass, leaned back,
and closed my eyes again.  I'm not sure when the disturbing thoughts in my
head turned into the nightmare memories.
Billy: Young {Mb Moll Rape CP}

   "KzzzT"

   Daddy showed me the pictures, a little girl.  Blonde curls, blue eyes,
pretty.  smiling, the next picture was in a sun dress.  "her daddy don't
gotta projector," he put the pictures in a envelope, "Ora VCR."

   Standing in a basement, looked like, I remember it later, when I was his
boy.  "His name is Bobby," there's no pictures of him, his face anyway. 
Daddy looking down at me, smiling.  I'm already pulling on it, in my
fingers, squirting the head in, and out of the skin.

   "KzzzT!" I uncross my legs, and he shows me another picture.  The sun
dress pulled up, over her face, but I can see her panties.  He touches me,
close enough for me to reach up.

   "Zzzzzp," I pull his buckle, lookat the next picture, he's lookin at the
next.  "Clink, Snap!" So big, and hard in my hand.  He helps me pull down
his pants so I can get both hands around it.

   I shaved him this morning, kneeling in the bathtub.  He didn't even take
movies of me no more, so he could use the TV to play the old movies.  When
I was younger, we played on the sofa, or the table.

   I held him in my mouth, just the head so I could pump up, and down with
both hands.  He touched me more, his knee on the green cushion next to my
shoulder.  "Nhn!" he held his breath, and I opened my mouth, pumped it out,
tasted it.

   Like the first time, his hands over mine, face behind the camera.  He
showed it to me on the wall, so little, arms thinner than the huge looking
thing, pulsing in them, his big hand squeezing both of them.  The warm wet
splash on my body.

   I wasn't even getting hard yet, until he showed me.  How to cross my
legs, around him, his big thing compressing my femorals, sticking out like
it was mine.  His pulse, and mine, the arterial spurts, white, hot, and
sticky.

   Before that, his hands, my first erection, I was aware of anyway.  I
fell asleep, in the seat.  He leaned over, it was dark, put the blanket
over both of us.  My pants felt so tight, tickled when he rubbed them with
his fingers.

   "Ngh!" he put his other hand over my mouth, other people was moving. 
The seat right in front of me, it went quiet except the background roar. 
The engines, my stomach got light as the plane lurched in the air.

   His big hand, taking mine at the airport.  Leading me to the plane, I
looked back.  Another man, turning back to the station, like a greyhound
for planes.

   Dark, oriental like me.  "Daddy," the man said before we got to close to
the loud jets, "Yu qn cahl meh Daddy." I didn't understand his words, yet,
but he taught me.

   Det.  Young

   I woke up, turned sideways on the extended chair, piss held back with my
erection.  I had to bend over the toilet, and wait for it to go down to
pee. I felt natious, but no headache.  I'm not much of a drinker, so it
wasn't a hangover.

   I stepped into the shower, tried to wash the nasty feeling out of my
head, using the lather from my short hair, and scrubbing up some more from
the bar on what little body hair I could grow.  Didn't get me clean on the
inside, but maybe some justice would.

   I don't play with myself, no more, without anyone to make me.  It just
doesn't feel right, having a man's hands on me, touching a man, even me.  I
get out, dry off, flip the dampness from my brush cut, and thin pitiful
moustache.

   I can't grow a beard, more than a few scattered hairs that never get all
that impressive.  I can feel them, but they're not long enough to see, so I
don't shave them.  Straightening the most facial hair I could manage with
two fingers, and a thumb, I put some clothes on, and went into the kitchen.

   I grabbed some ice tea from the fridge, a can of pineapple, and a fork,
and took them with me to the study.  More evidence that had been gone over
exhaustively, there wern't any fingerprints, other than Thorpe's with
enough left to identify, and mine.  The polaroids had multiple prints,
disgustingly in semen, but all were "Bobby's."

   Some typed letters from Daddy, unsigned, no envelope, address.  Working
out their deal, me for his daughter, and a film camera, the various
pornographic exchanges concidered even.  A photographer, and movie maker,
and a sadist.  Both pedophiles, god knows how many more out there, but John
had a team that was working on that.

   I was working only one, the one who traded me to Him, the one who
brought me from wherever I was from.  Going back to the projector, I
disengaged the back spindle, reeled it foreward, watched through the lamp.

   Past my rape, I couldn't watch it on the wall, as if right in front of
me, but without even the magnifier, it wasn't too much.  I remember, the
relief of him pulling out behind me, the thick warm spattering on my back,
and butt.

   After that, the camera looked back over at daddy, on his knees, the girl
bent over in front of him.  Tightening the reels, I ran it back, locked
everthing, and started it up.  Her knees were bent a little too, tiny slim
hands on her thighs, hair shaking with the thrusts.

   Thorpe got up, came around to the side, her face in profile, mouth
moving soundlessly.  "Yeah!" she acted it up, "Fuck me," I remembered the
squeel of her voice, "fuck me daddy!"

   What was her name?  she didn't never say it, but what did he call her,
Thorpe, when he introduced her?

   Billy {Mb/g Rape Anal CP}

   An older movie, the one daddy sent to mister Thorpe.  I remember him
making it, but now could look at it dispassionately, for clues.  Where was
it?  What was his name, other than "daddy?"

   Much too careful for that, he never showed his face, or head above his
shoulders.  The green couch, with the matching cushions, the camera steady
on it's tripod.  Yeah, he was more gentle than Thorpe, non-invasive, and
not emphasizing my but.

   He touched me, put my hands on him to push, and pull on it like he
taught me.  He pushed under my little purse, not my butt, but the place I
press now, when I mastrubate.  It was silly, letting my abuse interfere
with developing a more normal sexuality.

   He'd done it, gone against the morays of pedophiliacs to switch from
boys to girls.  So did Thorpe, but it was an escalation, more twisted.  He
wasn't even a pedophile, but a sexual sadist.  He abused children because
it was wrong, evolved to sodomising his daughter to trading her for a dark
little asian boy.

   No, my first daddy, we already got that twisted fucker.  Hard in his
hands, shorter than his thumb, thinner than his pinky.  I got up, stepped
closer to the wall I was projected on.  He reaches out, tripod retracted to
stand on the coffee table.

   It shakes, detaches to come in for a close-up.  "Damn it!" I wished I
could pause, run it back, but instead turned to shut it off.  Flicking on
the light, I got out the frame magnifier I got from the antique camera
shop. I pulled some slack on the front reel, and.

   Found the frame, swinging from lifting the camera free, and bringing it
over.  The side table, lamp, no letters to read the address from.  There, a
book, too large to be paperbound, half yellow pages on the side, but across
the corner the spine.  Old fashion Ma Bell dialer on the cover, wired into
the wall.

   Rural, county, a blurred state silhouette.  I have to get up, grab a
map. "Gotdamnit," in the study, long, and bulging on one side like West
Virginia.  I knew it hadta be around the mason dixon line, couldn't make
out the letters, smaller than one of the round pic cells.

   Like Vurginia, but with a clip point, like North Carolina upside down.
No, by the orientation, the spine hadta be upright.  "Kentucky."

   I sat back down, ran up the projector to watch the rest.  Standing on
his knees, showing Thorpe everthing I could do.  Pumping excitedly, almost
as thick as my wrists, shaved balls bouncing under them.  Slipping my hands
off, hunching, and catching it in his hand.

   His other in my hair, "Kiss it," his voice supplied by my memory, the
warm splash, soft glans on my lips, teeth comming open to the next thick
spurt.  How he tasted, and smelled.

   Sighing, I stopped it, and switched to the pictures.  It let me calm
down, catch my breath, let the stiffness go down in my pants.  No later
footage of Connie, I just disconnected the mechanism, ran it back to start.

   I don't want to mastrubate to that, even with it in my head.  Sick, the
way he "played" with me, taught me to be a good little sex slave.  I picked
up the polaroids of her, the last right before she met me.  The earlier
stuff, sent to daddy Thorpe.  His fingerprints evidence against him, I had
to get off to move on.

   "There she is," I sat back, so young.  I opened my pants, one of the
better ones, before he got too abusive.  Just running in a dress, the sun
shining through, silhouetting her body.  He turned the hose on her, looked
like a summer afternoon.

   It sprayed out from the right, below frame, frozen, and blurred in the
air, spattering her sundress.  Soaked, and clinging to her, she ran in,
laughing, and tooked it off in the kitchen.  Had to be about 5, wet panties
clinging to her crotch, slipping them off.  "Huhh!" I imagined hair, under
the towel in his hands.

   The little drop hanging from her lip, right next to her thigh.  Sliding
down in my lids, twitches in my hand.  I know, jerking off to childporn? 
It just kind of happened.  I mean, first I woke up one night, hard as
always, and turned on this time.

   I came, I actually got off for the first time in my life.  And what I
remembered at that moment was her, when we were kids.  I watched that part
over, and over, till it was memorized.  I remembered her, after both of
them got off, coming up, touching my shoulder on the couch.

   "It's okay," her voice was so sweet.  Her hand up to my face, wiped my
cheek with her thumb.  I never seen a girl naked for real, touched one,
just seen it in the pictures, and films.  I got hard in her hand, gently
petting it.

   She couldn't fuck me, I didn't have enough, but I remember how she felt,
smelt.  She kissed me too, my mouth, and I felt between her legs with my
hands.  The daddys moved around, cameras up, watching.  One of them lit a
cigarette, down next to his limp hanging dick.

   I didn't even have to watch it again.  Nothing else for even the
labtechs to find.  It helped, I guess.  I'd gotten to the point I could
look at the other stuff, like a Detective, remember, as a Witness, not the
victim.  I could watch her growing up, by a couple years, it wasn't time
stamped.

   So pretty, cute at the start, then prettier.  I wondered what she looked
like now, how old she was, probably early twenties, like me.

   Billy {Mb pedo}

   The old reel, the sampler sent to Bobby, me an daddy playing.  Past the
first one, to me standing in front of him, looking up, touching him. 
Hardening in my hands, saying something soundlessly.

   "Likeiss?" I member.

   Him sighing, "Yeah."

   Giggling, it hardening in my hands.  No foreskin, mine popping back, and
forth over the head.  Kissing his head, lapping a white drop from the end,
licking it, pushing it up higher.

   "UhH, yess," his breath, voice in my head, "That's right."

   "HhH!" breathless, "Krwlkh," the way he tasted, a little salty, the tang
of his precum on my tongue.  "GhrlL!"

   "Hn!" hunching, slipping back out, but I still had a good grip on it.

   "Nglh!" slipping back, and forth on my tongue, "Nglglglglgl!" My mouth
all the way open, lips pulled back, how my jaw ached.  Cheeks puffed out,
the shape of his dick, not round.  The crown rippling under it, back to my
lips.

   "UnhH!" hand slipping up, pushing my mouth off, wet soundless slap,
winking too late, thick white tear running down.  Another ropey splat on my
cheek, turning, narrow eyes tight.  "Nhn!"

   My own twitching out, no more guilt, homophobic angziety.  No more
denial, it never changes anything, even keeps me from accepting who I am,
and admitting what I want.

   I licked it from the crook of my thumb, fingers, scooped a little glob
that missed from my belly, squeezed the last from my softoff.  I left the
little string across my pubes, and went to bed.

   Nitenite {Bm Anal Fant}

   Looking up at me, eyes wide, little hardness sticking out.  "Can I fuck
you, daddy?"

   "Of course, son." reaching for me to pick him up, kiss him, feel between
his legs.  Little hardness, twitching, growing with each pulse.  It in me,
curled over on my side, all a sudden.

   "Yes," growing inside me, thicker, and softer, rolling inside out, then
back as he pulled back.  His tiny hands on my leg, my but, squeezing, and
pulling me in.  Filling me, forcing the air out in gasps, moans.

   Bigger then a gronup, even, no me getting smaller.  his big strong hand
wrapping around, my thin leg, pushing me back from the last stroke.  Miles
of it, dragging out of me.  the gasp lasting hours.  his fingers slipping
between my legs, biggern me, softening.

   The wet splatter of cum, waking me, hands curled around my twitching
penis, fingertips brushing behind my scrotum.  "UhnhNH!" I tried to
breathe, like the wind had been knocked out of me.  Then I tried to move,
couldn't even blink, paralyzed.

   Terrified, heart pounding, beating faster.  "KhuUhH!" oxygen, making my
skin prickle, like pinpricks, cold sweat, flashing in my open eyes.  I'd
never hold my breath for an orgasm again, hoped I didn't die in my sleep.

   Autoerotic Asphyxia?  What a way to go, I sat up, shook my head in my
hands.  Where WAs I going with this?  I can't control my sexuality, can I?
So what do I have, anyway?  Not a pedophile, I mean it, don't even think
down that path.

   It could have killed me!  Aright, now thet my heartrate's down, lets
start with dream interpretation, while it's still fresh in my head.  The
last thing I member is looking out, away from him, the mirror floating in
space.

   Reflecting us, me, fucking me.  The little boy, from the victim's pov,
but cumming from the victimizer, adult.  "No, wait," shake back, "I started
as the child, the weird fantasy of a boy fucking a man.  Then the age
reversal, growing, becoming the adult raping the child.

   Then the mirror, the orgasm waking me," licking it from my fingers, and
wrist.  The voyeurism, childporn, one thing to avoid.  Being alone with a
child, and a camera.  Making more victims, I may be gay, but "I aint gotta
turn into a fuckin child mollestor."

   Can't help being a pedophile, I get up, and sigh.  Still dark out, I
walked in the bathroom.  The mirror, too high for anything but my face. 
"Take a good look," still very young looking.  I could pass for a teen, a
"twink", oriental, but naturally tan.  Dark for the summer, a blended line
around my waist from the other day at the pool.

   Yeah, scratch that one off the list, best to avoid them all together. 
The locker room, trying not to look, but keeping my eyes down.  Hairless
little dingles, swinging, some still wet, thank god none of them were
erect. All shrunken, I could still feel a congealed drop hanging.

   "PisssssS!" flush, get in the shower.  I'm not going to get hard again
soon, so I pull the leaver, and push the plunder to start a bath.  Yeah,
bathtime to molest the boy, my most reaccurring fantasy.  Just play the
boy, I'm little, cute even.

   I got to sit up to wash, my sort hair, maybe I could grow it out? 
Uncomfortable hair under my arms too, but washing it'd make it softer, for
shaving later.  My razor's on the sink, anyways.  My hands slip on the side
of the tub, getting up, but I get my knees under me.

   I run out of suds on my privates, so I squeeze some more out.  Pantene
Deep Moisture, my hair dries out here.  "Aright, faggot, get past the
closet now."

   Okay, I want biggern me, but that's not hard ta do.  Wilted, I roll the
skin back, and scrub the inside.  Great, nothing, but I did just get off.
No impotence angziety, it's self-fulfilling/defeating.  "Lessee," close my
eyes, "Big, but not threatening, old, or sadistic like Thorpe.

   Nice big dick, not to hard, but still erect.  Notto old lookin, maybe
young, or young looking." Thicker, warmer, the suds whipped to foam in my
fingers.  "But I don't wanna call him," daddy.

   Trades {Mmb Pedo Moll Frot Butt}

   Thorpe wasn't my first trade, I remember.  There was another boy, white,
brown hair, older.  Maybe not quite a teen, but starting to grow up, he
come over to play with me, and daddy.

   Not like a baby-sitter, but like a friend, I didn't have no toys, but he
was there to play with me.  Daddy watched, on the green couch.  His pants
open, dick out, slipping in the skin between his fingers.

   I never new his name, or his daddy's, I never really used names growing
up.  Daddy called me Bily, that was it.  Anyways, the other boy touched my,
threw my pants, and under my chin.

   He made me look up, bent over, closer.  He was pretty, young with big
eyes, closing.  He didn't kiss like Connie, I looked over at daddy.  He had
his camra out, but didn't even unfold it.

   We was in the basement, and he had his hand in my pants.  He pushed
everthing around indere, pulled my dincle up off my balls, and pinched it
in his fingers.

   I crosst my legs, squeezed them together, and made it stiff. 
"SnhnhnhH!" he sighed in on the side of my face, and his tongue kinda fell
asleep.  His fingers got real busy, and I guess he forgot to kiss me, so I
licked it in my mouth, the way he did it.  "Hunh!" he let his breath out on
my mouth.

   I reached out for his pants, "Kzzzt!" next to us, I don't remember
hearing him unfold it, but come aware of the gentle "FapPpP!"ing sound,
daddy's breathing.

   "Uh!" he stood up, pushed his jeans in my hands.  He was bigger, as big
as either of my thumbs, and "Pop!" didn't wear no underwear.  More buttons,
no skin on it, hard, sticking up all by itself.

   "Hhuh!" next to us, the fapping getting slower, no sound of wet slaps.
He was salty, sweaty, but not like grownup sweat.  Not long enough to stick
in my throte, get the good spit, but I didn't no bout thet, didnt no Bobby.

   "Mwlk!" bone conduction, from the hard palatte, tounge rubbing back in
the swallow reflex, sucking my cheeks tight on my cheeks.

   "OhH!" above me, he reaches up from dropping his pants.  His hands on my
shoulder, and head, bending back my hairs.  His legs are smooth, hairless.

   "Kzzzt!" distracting, daddy's hands on us now.  Touching his but,
putting my hand on it.  He's soft, shiny at the tip, hanging, shaved clean
for this.

   The other boy don't got to, young, and hairless below his eyelashes,
looking down at me, smiling, wide eyes green.  He turns me round, both
hands on my arms, pulls my hand back to his.  "Cummon," he smiles, and bend
over to touch my butt.

   He pushes me over to the couch, and dadys behind us, opening the secret
closet.  The boy's hand slides up my back, tickles in the small, he helps
me get up on the couch.

   Daddy's behind him, setting up the tripod.  Naked, the boy taking off my
close, and I just scootch around to help him.  He kisses my ear, licks it
even, but dont stick his tongue in.

   He starts squeezing my butt, his other hand around to play with my
dincle.  He uncrost my legs, but dont put his between them so I could stay
hard.  I got to play withem, cause he got both hands on my but.

   He squeezes in between it, and his hands.  Hes slippery with spit, wet,
and kinda nasty.  He didn't fuck me, in me, but just slipped around likeat,
and I don't think he finished.  There wernt no cum on my back, I saw
anyway.

   Daddy got hard again, and got up with us.  The TV was on, and we was in
it, daddy's legs anyway.  "Hnh!" His dick, in my mouth, the boy behind me,
frotting my butt, his squeezing when he went forth, relaxing comming back.

   Daddy cummed again, and I ate it, even what come out the sides of my
mouth.

   Mentat {M Solo NS MC}

   I got Children of Dune/Messiah {(C) Frank Herbert}.  Released together
in the same volume, {Fictional} Leto II, and Ghanima looking out from the
cover.  Paul standing behind them, hooded, eyes lost in black shadow.

   Daddy read me Dune when I was a boy, and I remember something in there
about Mind Control.  No, not the Bene Gesserit, and their Kwisatz Haderach,
both dependant on drugs that don't exist.  Nor even the Guild, and it's
Navigators, who can fold space with their inhuman minds.

   The Mentats, human computers developed to fill the niche left by
thinking machines after they were banned.  Nothing about them, other than
the twisted Bene Tleilax kind.  So, I just took what I could, the stuff
that sounded likeat, and picked up the DSM-IV for research.

   Antisocial Personality Disorder, great.  After enough read throughs to
have parts of it memorized, that fit the closest.  Fucking Sociopath,
delightful.  Putting down the science fiction, I got out the psychological
fact.

   "Fix it."

   Learn impulse control first.  I ain't done nothing, what wasn't forced
on me, and held back from opportunities before.  Mostly, I just passive
agressively avoided situations that lead to those impulses.  Years from any
close contact with any child,

   Pedophile: Sexually attracted to children, just don't look there.  Close
that closet, lock it up, and don't even think about children, sexually. 
Develop the Morality, ethicality, be Good.  Yeah, right, a good sociopath,
how does that work?
The antisocial failing is feeling.  Logic, analysis, fundamentalist
Agnosticism to prevent any Schitzotypal Magical Ideation.  That leads to
wants, "needs", impulses, offenses.  "Lock this mind down." Okay, I can do

this.

   Child's Play {MM Pedo Gays}

   I went into the kitchen, pulled the cooling bowl from the micro, stirred
the can of tuna in with a fork, broke up the square of soft noodles.  Curry
flavor, MSGlicious, but cheap, and it packs well.

   I brought up the internet.  With my case stalled, I pulled side duty
trolling for pedos online.  Been doing it a couple months, erotic "story"
sites, and child abuse survivor's boards.  It takes a while, the computer
techs said, to get to know them, earn their trust, get them to open up.

   One of the members went into chat, [teenphilipinos]One of the bb
"fantasy" sites, we'd picked up a few trolling for CP illustrations there.
[2young:/ Hello there.
teenphilipinos:/ hey

   . .]

   I gave him time to check my profile.  [teenphilipinos:/ ;)
teenphilipinos:/ nice pic
2Young:/ Thnx.
teenphilipinos:/how old is it?
2Young:/ Couple months.
teenphilipinos:/ how old RU?
2Young:/ 20yy] I already had typed in.
[teenphilipinos:/ rly?!
teenphilipinos:/ you look 2young!
teenphilipinos:/ LOL] I admit, I did too.
teenphilipinos:/ RU tranz?]
I'd gotten that before.  From my profile picture, photoshop lightened
it, my skin, made my lips look pink, painted.  You couldn't see my chest,
the way my hand was on it, whether my nipples matched, but it was still

obviously pretty flat.  [2young:/ No]

   I don't think.  I mean, I don't want to be a girl, or anything, but I
tried to distance myself from the CP, find something else on the internet
to substitute.  [2young:/ RU?  teenphilipinos:/ sometimes, teenphilipinos:/
i like to dress up.  2young:/ As a woman?  teenphilipinos:/ like a girl.]
We must've hit enter almost the same time, because the last two refreshed
together.  Probably random order.  [2young:/ U got any pictures?] His
profile didn't.  I admit, I was already starting to get turned on again. 
[teenphilipinos:/ In drag?
2young:/ Sure,
2young:/ Or naked.
2young:/ ;)
teenphilipinos:/ LOL
teenphilipinos:/ i can send you some

   . .  teephilipinos:/ YGM!] Already in my PMs, I refreshed, and there it
was.

   [Pix teenphilipinos \ Here I am!] the only text, several attached images
with random strings for names.  The first was his crotch, naked, hairless,
but obviously adult.  Hard, bald scrotum shranken back, circumsized.

   The next one was a fuller body shot, still no hair, but arms, and legs
spread.  Cropped at the neck, no face vizible.  Soft, he hung down, just a
little too thick, and wrincled to be a little boy, but built like one.  No
frame of referance, pudgy, but shaped like baby fat.
"Blink!" [teenphilipinos:/ what do U think]
teenphilipinos:/ ?

   . .  ] I switched back to the images, one in drag, a little dress with a
pink frilly skirt, wig hanging down, straight, and blonde, but still no
face.  The next a quarter shot, skirt, and slips up to the tops of his
thighs, his panties, bulging.  And another nude one, from his butt up to
his too dark nipples.  Soft in his hands, a white spray of thick globs on
them, and the skirt.  [2young:/ Nice.  2young:/ How old RU? 
teenphilipinos:/ how old do you want me to be?  2young:/ No, seriosly. 
2young:/ How old RU for real?
teenphilipinos:/ 18] the minimum for this site, ironicly enough.
2young:/ Got any "older" pictures?] making him younger when they were
taken. . .  [teenphilipinos:/ how much older?
2young:/ Way older.
2young:/ ;)
. .  teenphilipinos:/ YGEmail.]
I added another tab, and clicked over to Gmail.  Typing in my ID, and
password, I checked the account I'd used for that board.  Sure enough, it

was from him.

   [bigbaby510@hotmale.org

   older pix

   im sorry i have to ask but you aren't a cop, or nothing are you?  i mean
basicly what you asked for is illegal, and all.  im 18 witch means any
older pix would be before when i was to young.  i mean yeah i got older pix
if your intristed, but i got to make sure this isn't a trap, or nothing.]

   Okay.  Sorry about the grammar, and speling, but the erors were his.  I
sent a reply back ascertaining that I am not, in fact, a member of law
enforcement, nor working with any agency.  Allright, I lied, but you have
to to make any headway, and to prove it attached a picture that certainly
qualified.

   He sent back, [wow, he's qt!  do you know him?  is he philipino?] with
more attached pictures.  Not only him, younger, but another boy.  Outside,
darker than me, but with similar Asian, or Pacific Island features.

   I still don't know what I am racially.  The boy I sent was me, of
course, the only preadolescent Asian boy's pictures I had any right to use.
About 9, or 10, I don't remember it being taken.  Laying across my bed, an
obvious, if little erection, looking right at the camera.

   I switched back to chat, [2young:/ That was me.] .  teenphilipinos:/ U
were cute!  2young:/ U2.] I don't know, maybe I was gay?  I could get
myself off thinking about another guy's dick, a bigger one.  Really hard, I
opened up my pants.  [teenphilipinos:/ really?]

   I had the picture of him, and the other boy, reaching out to hold his
erection, his own hanging out, hard, but cute, like mine.  [2young:/ yeah]
I typed left handed.  [teenphilipinos:/ u like to have sex?  2young:/ w/ u
2young:/ ?
teenphilipinos:/ y
2young:/ y
teenphilipinos:/ how?
. .  teenphilipinos:/ how do you like sex?
teenphilipinos:/ with boys?
2young:/ I don't know.]
I caught my breath, couldn't quite make it.  I switched back to another
picture of them, outside, a back yard or something.  Their arms were
crossed, holding each other, hard.  Luen on the left, pretty little dick

sticking out behind his thumb, rolling back the skin.

   BigBaby, or whatever his name was bulging out of his smaller darker
hand. Like mine, just two fingers holding it, stroking it up, and down in
my closed eyes.  Thick, soft looking, I felt it spurt, in my hand, the
wetness sticking to my fingers.  [2young:/ Oral,] I licked them.  2young:/
Yin/yan.  teenphilipinos:/ ?
2young:/ 69.
teenphilipinos:/ o
teenphilipinos:/ yeah!
. . .  teenphilipinos:/ ...9
2young:/ ?
teenphilipinos:/ i cummed
teenphilipinos:/ spurt, spurt, spurt, softy] I looked up, saw it.
2young:/ LoL,
teenphilipinos:/ GTG] I imagined his mom was calling.
[2young:/ TTFN

   teenphilipinos has left chat.] and in his profile, he was offline.

   Going back to Gmail, I backclicked the pictures, down to [Save img
as...] Typed some captions for them, made a new folder, BabyBoy/

   I checked out hotmale.org, clicked past the Adult Content warning. 
Cute, a personals site, like Facebook, or MySpace, all male.  I [search]ed
BigBaby510, apparently his height.

   Hmm, a Moderator.  A picture of his face.  Babyfaced, and cute, he had
curly blonde hair, medium lenth in a loose mess around the top of his head.
Blonde eyebrows too, even lashes, but no other facial hair.

   [Signup: to view BigBaby510's other pictures.] I clicked through the
Terms Of Agreement, actually checked for the Caveat that no pictures of
children, or teens under the age of 18 are to be posted.
I stopped at the personal information fields, tried to think of a good
User Name.  [AznPrettyBoy] after a bunch of tries, I typed in my Password,
[********], then again, and my Gmail adress.  [Tab]bing down, I filled in
my [4'9"] for Height, [87#s] last I checked, clicked [Black/Black], [Medium
Complexion].  [Pacific Islander] was actually one of the Race options, but

I clicked on [Asian: Other]

   Nation of origin,..  [USA], I speak, and write English, remember next to
nothing about my homeland, not even the nation it was.  For all I knew, I
was Cambodian, Campuchian, Lao.
[Submit:] it refreshed, neccissary feilds in red.
[Billyuen] I changed my User Name, clicked on [Age: 21], I guessed.  I
don't have birth records, that I could find yet, don't even understand what

John had to go through legally to get me an official identity.

   Childporn warning: No childporn will be tolerated in public messages. 
Even discussion of sex with minors may be punished by suspension, and
banning.  IF YOU POST IMAGES OF CHILDREN, even clothed, or not in sexual
situations, YOU WILL BE PERMANENTLY TERMINATED.

   It is the policy of Hotmale.org to cooperate with any investigation of
child pornography, exploitation, or abuse.  Age Roleplay is tolerated, in
the appropriate forums, and chat.] moderated by BigBaby510, which explains
how he got the clever email address.  "@Hotmale..," I chuckled.

   [Agree], hovering over the [Nevermind] link brought up NAMBLA's website
in the Status Bar.  I tabbed over to Gmail to respond to the verification
message.  [<Back] I clicked, and the inbox autorefreshed.  It hadn't
arrived yet, but...
[BigBaby510: my story
i just wanted to send this cause i like you, and i want to keep in
touch. it was fun, but i don't know about you but i want to have a
relationship.  if you dont that's ok, but if you do please read the rest of

this.

   this is not the first time i done this online and i found out it goes a
lot better the better you know the guy your cybering with.  a lot of guys
have hangups and you can piss people off saying the wrong thing cause you
dont know.

   anyway i went to Jr high with louen, and he was so pretty.  i guess i
was gay always but back then i didn't think about it, or sex at all really.
he was my first boyfreind tho, he showed me his dick and got hard and
showed me how to play with it.

   he touched me two, but i didn't get it up i guess cause i was to little.
he didnt cum back then he was just a year older, and still mostly a boy,
but he grew up with me.  first he got little prickles of hair, and his
voice cracked, and like a year later i started growing up two.

   he was my boyfreind two years, and i loved him, but then i changed
schools to Highschool, and he went back to the pillypeens the way he sayed
it.  i had another boyfreind in highschool, way older then me, but he liked
me cause i was young.

   he called me baby, and liked it when i called him daddy.  he even
dressed me up in a diaper, or like a little boy, or a little girl to fuck
me.  then there was this big scandal were he was fired and went to jail.

   i been with men since then, but no boyfreinds.  i even went to the rest
stop were you can put a day and time in the stalls, or come back then and
have sex with other gays.  i did all the tearoom stuff, stuck my dick
through the hole, or went with truckers to fuck in the cab, or out to the
woods.  you don't even have to bring rubbers, just change for the machine.

   but thats not what i like.  i like a boyfreind, and maybe i can be
yours? even just online, i do it all the time, but if you want i can be
exclusive.  i don't even have a online boyfreind right now, and i'm real
lonely.

   Child's Play {MM Pedo Fant}

   he finally came over, to play after months of messages, pictures, and
even vidio to play with myself.  he was cumming to play with me!  he also
sent me his story, in peices, about his daddys, and what they did to him
after i sent him mine, but it wasn't that bad.

   more tanned and not as greenish, i guess, but still familiar some how.
that made it better, more attractive, like a boy I knew, comming over to
play.  not romantic like a lover, or a boyfreind, but i guess he was. 
online anyway i hoped he would stay.  but now just a freind to play with. i
couldn't wait, he didn't say where he was cumming from, but it took forever

   i didn't just tell him where I live to be safe.  not even the town I
drove to another one with a coffee shop thets got WiFi.  he could still be
a cop looking for pedophiles, and using stock pictures from the net, or
personal stashes from pedophiles to lure me.

   im not a pedophile.  really i just started having sex with a boy, and
lots of guys like me to act like a child.  its just a game role play, and
he did it with me.  they was real popular in the Ageplay forum of Hotmale.
he was always Yuen, or Billy when he wasnt a Azn.  sometimes he played a
chinese, or a girl, or a mexican in one story named Juana though he dont
know much spanish.

   he even had pictures.  the one of "Juana" in a dress.  a spanish one he
looked kinda herspanic with his pretty eyes wide.  pink lipstick, and blush
on his flat cheeks.  his cheekbones are straight, and kinda indian looking,
but not his nose.

   i was carefull, and sent nothing illegal.  even on the other sites i
only sent pictures of me, and sometimes Louen if it was private and secure
enough.

   Billy told me in my state pictures of yourself, no matter how naked, or
young, doesn't count as "Exploitation" unless they depict explicitly
exploitave behaviour.  you can't take pictures of underage kids, but they
can without punitive action.  you can exploit yourself all you want, one of
the reasons i moved here.  i telecommute, so it doesn't matter where I
live.

   anyway i sat in the back of the shop internet cafe' with a Italian Soda
and looked up innocent enough stuff.  E-bay, had a original Starscream i
been following.  worse shape than mine, but it had a hip in tact.  the
seller said it folded in, and out perfectly even with the wing on that
side.

   he even said he'd part it out, if nobody bought it, since most of the
intrest was from others with broke ones.  i almost giggled, and clapped,
the auction ended without meeting the reserve, so I checked my mail.

   [2young - Running a little late...] no message.  and my seller, asking a
price for the shoulder, and upper arm.

   "hey," i looked up.  always wondered what his voice sounded like.

   "Charly," i held up my hand to shake.

   "Billy," he smiled, and i got up.  so short, he had to look up at me. 
little lines folded next to his lips like (smile), but went away when his
pretty mouth relaxed.  "I got you something."

   a Starscream NiB, but the new one, from the movie.  "oh," the wrong one
it was just a poseable in robot mode, and didn't even Transform.  still, it
was kinda sweet.  we sat down across the table all these people around.

   "they got icescream!" i offered, "they make it fresh in back." like i
come here all the time, instead of just read their website i sent to him.
we got up, stood in line, didn't say nothing.

   "Weird flavors," school was out for summer, so we had to look around the
kids lined up.  but the specials were on a board, on the counter, Cracked
Pepper, and Salmon.  he didn't say nothing, just stood there, and smiled.

   he tried the salmon, pink, but i wasn't that adventurous.  "Choclate,"
they didn't have just that, but mixed with Orange, or Mint, or Cherry,
"Ameretto," i decided.  i tasted the almond likker first, and then the
choclate as it melted on my tongue.

   "Mmm!" it was so good, so i ate it quick, watched his lips slide shut
over his, a little pink stuck to them, his tongue comming out to lick them
clean.

   "Sure you don't want to try this?" he held it up with a little sample
spoon sticking out of the side he didn't lick, "It's really good."

   "Uh," i took a little, to be polite, sniffed it, but it was to cold to
smell anything.  His eyes were on me, my face, and my mouth, so i tasted
it. "huh?" not sweet, or as salty as i expected.  Fishy, and meaty, but you
could really taste the creamyness, it really brought out the flavor. 
"Weird," huh, "but good."

   i didn't have any more, but i guess i just pretended to like it.  it
wasnt gross, or anything just weird.

   "well I like it," he (smiled), and ate some more.  i kept the flavor in
my mouth some more before i took a sip of my soda, and finished mine.  it
was already dripping down my nuckles, so i licked that up.  kinda offwhite,
but light brown like him on my pale freckled skin.

   "thanks for the Transformer," i folded up my notebook with it on top. 
"you want to see my collection?"

   "Sure," he went out, and smoked a cigarette while i wrapped up the power
supply.  doesn't talk much, and i expected more from all he wrote to me. 
cute though.  i sighed, and carried my stuff out to the car.

   "i brought my film too," he showed me the cases in the back seat of his
car, "i'll just follow you?"

   "OK," i got in, and he pulled his Toyota behind me.  An 80s, or 90s one
it still had the old style logo in the grill.  we went the back way instead
of through town if you call it that.  just a gas station, and the Hostel
with a restraunt, we didnt even have a theater, or school, or nothing.  all
the town kids went to county school in the seat not to far away.

   now im not telling you where we were on purpose.  we didn't do anything
illegal, but what we do a lot of people around here would get upset. 
especially out here in the hills we could get beat up, or worse by the
rednecks.

   "Billy" kinda sounded like one, or sothern though he said he was comming
in East, from wherever.  From the SW, or maybe he lied, but he did have a
real good tan.  almost dark lighter than a black kid, or some of the half
blacks people was ashamed of round here.  more like all the mexicans I ever
seen, but with oriental eyes.

   and the rest of his face, and the way his body was shaped was all asian,
just dark, like Louan.  kinda like Kitty in that "Sugar Britches" movie but
without the tanlines from the swimsuit.  a girl i know.  im gay, but i
didnt always know that.

   darker even, and not as yellow looking.  and with a little dick like
Louen.  both weren't circumsized, and had the foreskin over there little
heads in the pictures.  i couldn't wait.

   Billy {MM Pedo, CP}

   He had a truck, 4x4, and I was starting to worry.  Out in the country,
they don't enforce the cell phone laws, if they even had them, so I hit a
button on mine, clipped to the dash.

   "Hey, son." John answered.

   "Can you still call in plates?" he'd gone Fed, enlisted with the Child
Exploitation Division for the FBI.

   "Sure," he was home at this hour, same time zone.  "Let me carry you
into the study.

   I waited, it's not like I trusted him, 'Charley,' I noticed some things
that made me worry.  "Explorer," large enough to carry off a child, a
little boy, unconscious, or tied up.  "Navy Blue, looks new, Missouri
plate," I read off the number.

   "Uh huh?" John typed, "Just let me send it off to the database."

   He only sent me pictures of him alone, or with Luen.  "Just text them to
me," the screen flashed, just a pip left of the reception bars,
disappearing.  I hung up, turned on the GPS navigation.  But he wouldn't
tell me where exactly he lived.  He could have been holding back.

   He collects Transformers, toys, but he likes boys.  Asian boys with dark
skin, not many if any around here, 'sides me.  Not much of anything, I had
to pan out for there to be any of the widely spaced, tiny villages on the
map.

   He said he had contacts, knew people in the CP community.  Childporn,
mostly trade, but if you knew the right people, how to talk to them, you
could get them to stage pictures, and movies for you, act out your
fantasies, with children.  If you had real one, you could go to see them,
pay for them to come to you, possibly even buy them.

   He was a pedophile.  Said he suppressed it, only had sex with adult men
who looked younger, roleplayed, but they all have secrets.  As we pulled up
to the dirt road, I payed more attention to it.  A long way back, my phone
out of of signal area, but never out of range of a satellite, I still had
coordinates.

   But he never sent me any other childporn, denied even having it, or
connections to the underground networks.  Then where did he see the one he
talked about?  The one he said had a boy in it that looked like me, as a
boy, like my film?

   He could have been leading me on too, trying to lure me with that,
instead of toys.  It was enough for me to check it out, rationalise the
"trip", everything I own in the car.  It was also a central location,
closest to everwhere in the eastern 48, I didn't have contacts in Alaska,
or Hawaii, yet.

   Pulling up in front of his trailer, I hit [Save] and shut it down.  No
parking lot, or even room on the grass, I had to park behind him, blocking
him in.  I decided to leave my gun in the car, in the locked safe under the
passenger seat.

   I tucked my phone in my pocket with my keys, set on vibrate, if I ever
got signal.  He was already on the porch, waving me up.  Rustic, built like
a deck out of 2x4s, even the roof extended out on struts from the single
wide's.

   Completely covered in trees, I looked up, around at nothing but
branches, and leaves, not a drop of blue to be seen.  "Come ooon!" I
hurried after him, already in the open door.

   It was, a trailer.  Just too big to be towed by anything less than the
heaviest duty, with a [Wide Load] sign, and extended mirrors.  Maybe 2
bedrooms.  "They're in here," I followed him down the short hall to one of
them, made into a trophy room, shelves of toys, in cases, and unopened
boxes, and VHS tapes.

   He caught me looking at the TV/VCR.  "You wanna watch a movie?"
Definitely a Peter Pan type, here he regressed to a child, a sexualized
one.

   "I brought mine," I offered, "You wanna watch that?"

   "Sure," he shrugged, and walked out.  ADD?  I wondered as I followed. 
He showed me the rest of the place, the rooms added on in back, his
computer room, and a solarium.

   "Here's the greenhouse I toldja 'bout." Empty, dirt floor, but still the
smell.  Green, but so much like a skunk sprayed in here.  "The lady thet
built it was busted for selling," he told me, "The cops took all the
plants."

   Maybe not a master criminal, he should've known better'n get a place
that was already busted for illegal activity.  Facing south, the windows
really heated it up, so I closed the door, and turned to the one he was
unlocking behind me.

   A padlock, and tongue, it slid open to what must have once been a shed.
The corrugated metal walls, and steel frame were bare, uninsulated, but it
was spotlessly clean.  Sealed tight, it was even a little cool after the
solarium.

   "It gets cold in here in the winter," he plopped down, and turned on his
computor.  His chair rolled on a concrete floor, with a stiff plastic sheet
over it.  I stepped on it, from the small rug by the door.

   Old computor, plugged into a MoDem, the phone line, dialup.  "You think
I can check my messages while I'm here?"

   "Oh," he shrugged, "This isn't hooked to the 'net." It dialed, and
squeeled electronicly.

   "Autodial," I didn't mean to say out loud.

   "Dedicated line," his short unruly blonde curls bounced with his nod. 
He did smell like baby powder!  From back here, I could see brown roots
growing out, and a cowlick turning into a bald spot.  "I downloaded that
movie I toldja 'bout."

   Like mine, the one that I came to show him.  Even if I couldn't bust him
as a child abuser, there was no evidence of that, I could use him as a
witness.  I couldn't send it to him, to compare, it would be technicly
illegal just to copy it to a more modern format, and distribute it across
state lines.  Not that he minded, but if I didn't do this legally, I
couldn't get justice, use John, and the courts for it.

   Startup completed, a BBS loaded.  No desktop, nor even command prompt,
straight into the Bulliten Board Service.  "Here," he clicked on it, on his
permanent disk.  I watched, silently as the viewer loaded, went fullscreen
with a keystroke.

   I recognised the room immediately, the green couch, the body of the man
on it with me, reaching out for the 8mm film camera.  I had to take a
breath, "Where did you get this?"

   "The right one?" he turned back, and his smile fell at the look on my
face.  "You okay?" I couldn't speak, think watching myself getting raped.
"I never liked this one," he turned back, "I like the boy," but couldn't
shut up, "But it's too rough."

   "That's me," I couldn't see through the tears any more.

   Charley {MM Pedo Oral Anal}

   "Ohhh!" he started crying, so i picked him up.  not really that heavy, i
managed to get him up the stairs to the living room, and on the couch.  he
sobbed against me, shaking with it, arms around his knees in my lap.

   "it's okay," i petted his short thick black hair, "it'll be all right,"
and all the other things you have to say.

   Louin used to cry like that, his foster "father" was so mean to him.  he
was crying when I met him, made freinds with him, then best freinds, then
more.

   Billy stopped, crying imean.  he noticed what popped up in my lap, when
i moved, uncomfterble.  he looked up, eyes dry, but cheeks still wet, and
wiped them away with the cuffs of his sleeves.

   He sniffed, so cute, so pretty.  not like Louin, but "Billy." He smiled,
and kissed me.  it felt so i don't know, right.  i know i'm gay, but more
than that.  the right time, the right guy.  all ready, i felt in love with
him.

   He skooted out of my lap, reached down, and angsiously unwrapped his
present.  Big birthday smile.  i slid my but up on the little couch, a
loveseat, really, just big enough for two.  He's got small hands, strong
fingers, wrapping around me, and pushing back the skin.

   He's looking up at me again.  eyes wide curved up on top, but still with
the pretty Asian corners like a smile.  He pulls my shirt up over my arms
when i pick them up.  He leans against me, sighs, and plays with my peeny.

   i touch him.  run my hand down his back, my othern down his chest, and
belly.  feel around his firm butt.  kinda strong flexing in my hand when he
lifts his leg, crosses it over, and slides out to the other side.

   His hand is down.  sticking me out in His fist, and I feel his breath.
His lips.  His tongue around me.  "Hahhn," He closes His mouth, sucks in,
and rubs His tongue up the side.

   "OhH!" i run my fingers up his neck, through his short straight black
hair, and close my eyes.  it felt so good, and he really knew how to do it.
He opened his pants for me, and pulled away the flap front.  tighty witeys,
how cute!

   i felt it so much smaller then mine, and uncut.  the foreskin pulling
back from a cute almost pointed head.  "Oh," i had to open my eyes, "Isn't
it cute?" Like a little brown heart pinker than the skin around it.  i
moved my hand to see it was thicker at the base squeezed between his
hairless thighs.  even his tummy bulged not like my belly, but soft,
smooth, and hairless around it.

   i closed my eyes, felt it, petted it in his sideways lap.  He sucked me
off, pulling back, and stroking just the tip with his tongue.  He caught it
in his mouth.

   "Bown ower," i could see it, wet, and white in the bottom of his mouth.
His favorite fantasy we wrote about it back and forth lots of times for
cybersex.  i turned over, legs off the couch, and knees on the floor for
him.

   He moved the coffee table touched my but with his hands.  holding me. 
spreading it open.  "LptT!" i felt wetness warm running down between to get
caught by his thumbs.  just behind my sack they slipped up rolling the
thick fluid above them.

   clean shaven, and washed clean.  he even had me make sure there was no
soap residue.  He rubbed it into me.  the ball of his thumb wetly easing me
open while I relaxed as much as I could.  He said he never done this
before.

   fucked anybody imean.  been with another boy just men fucking him, and
that girl.

   i felt him moving up behind me from the angle of his hands.  pulling his
thumb out of me.  i gasped.  felt my butthole tighten.  his hips against
me. little dick running down the crack.  it took him a little while to find
the way, but then he pressed against me.

   the point of his cute cock.  it pressed in the right place, and I
relaxed.  let it push open the muscle, and slide through, into me.  "Ohh,"
i moaned, "Yes."

   "Call me Youen," he whispered, and I looked back at him.  Eyes closed, I
think, his hands gripped my ass, pushing him back, pulling out of me.

   "Yes," i turned back, and straightened, "Fuck me," so like Louin, "Fuck
me Youen."

   "Ahh!" he sighed behind me, sank in, and pulled back for another thrust.
i pushed up for a better angle, and he straightened behind me.  He sank his
hips into my ass until i could feel the bones.

   "Yeah," i closed my eyes, "Let me have it." He did, found the rythm, and
fucked me, faster, harder, sinking in, gripping my hips tight, holding him
gainst me, comming inside of me.  He must've held his breath, didn't make a
sound, then gasped for it.

   Connie {F NS}

   I woke up, wiped my eyes, washed my face while the data uploaded.  Hmm,
hits to the old pictures, and movies.  1 DL each, I checked the archive of
that connection.  Yeah, in reverse order, I looked back at the bed, empty,
one side of it slept in, the other practicly still made.

   Each and ever one I appear in, first one last, I checked for recent DLs
from that number.  The original tape, copied over to digital, Rolla county
area code in the directory.  I got some coffee, and turned back to the
terminal.

   Clicking the number brought up his profile, "erautobot", some otaku into
pedo roleplay, but a good contributer of asian boy media.  [Online], but no
activity for hours.  Lurking, I sent him a PM.

   [BabySitter

   Hey there, see you're interested in me, wanna {chat?}] I <Href=>ed in a
hypertext link.

   "Blink!" erautobot joined, so I switched panels.
[erautobot:/ Sorry, just using a freind's computer.
erautobot:/ Got NE more?
BabySitter:/ RU police?
BabySitter:?  FBI, PI, or otherwize affiliated with Law Enfocement?] I
had to ask.
[erautobot:/ Yes.  But, I'm not here on an investigation.
erautobot:/ I won't tell on you, I promise.
erautobot:/ Hear me out,] my hand was close to terminating that Modem,
[I only became a PI to find out where I'm from.
BabySitter:/ Go on...

   .

   erautobot:/ I grew up with a pedophile, two of them, the first one
bought me, I think, from somewhere in SE Asia.
erotobot:/ I just want to find him, ask him where I'm from, find out who
I am.
BabySitter:/ and the CP?
erautobot:/ I have some, pictures, and movies.
erautobot:/ Including the other half of one of your's.
erautobot:/ On film, with me, and two men.] I remember, vaguely.  So
long ago, I was so young, the dark little oriental boy, moving from one
daddy to the next.  I shook my head, opened my eyes.
[BabySitter:/ Who RU?]
erautobot:/ Yuen.
erautobot:/ , or Billy Young.
BabySitter:/ Connie, call me "Connie."

   Yuen

   I watched it for the thousandth time, the tape, a copy from Connie. 
Looking down Bobby Thorpe's body, her head turning to look up, smile around
him sliding out of her lips.  Her wink.  Away from me, and the other
camera, it wasn't on the film, but in comparison it visible as a twitch of
her nose.

   My eyes squinted to slits, tried to imagine my skinny little tan dick,
her mouth on it, instead of my fingers, her head sliding up, and down
instead of my fist.  Her turned around, blonde curls of pubic hair around
her panties.

   Opening my mouth, her dick sliding in, down my throat.  "Uhn!" deep
twitches in my balls, against my fingers, pulsing out into my hand.  I hit
[Eject] on the VCR, slid the tape back in it's case, and got dressed. 
Pulling the white, and red RCA chords from the front of the TV, I carried
the down to the new car.

   Pretty old, actually, a Legacy wagon, before the "Outback" edition.  I
pulled shut the lift gate, the beige paint was peeling from the roof, and
hood.  Nothing visible inside through the deep tint.  You couldn't even
tell the seats was pulled out, what little I own packed in, my futon folded
in half to sleep on.

   Even less conspicuous than an American sedan, it didn't look out of
place in any neighborhood, or parking lot, on any road as I pulled out of
the motel.

   "Sorry," Charley.  He cried when I left.  I tried to love him, a nice
enough guy, not use him as a means to an end.  He loved me enough for both
of us, I guessed, but my heart wasn't in it.  I sighed, though, I would
miss him.

   It was also convenient living with him, I guess.  Smack dab in the
middle of the country, two name brand cities in driving distance, almost
guarenteed to be closer to wherever I was from, back east, and the south.

   But that was enough of the past.  I wouldn't have any future, or a
choice in it if I kept avoiding it.  An artifact of investigating it, I
guessed, for the present, I had her to look foreward to.

   Connie, if she could be believed, the one girl I met as a boy, played
with that night.  All grown up, she had her own BBS, decades of her
BabySitter racket, taking care of children to mollest them, take pictures,
make child porn out of it.

   I didn't know what to do, stop her?  I didn't want to get her arrested,
but she couldn't go on abusing children like that.  Maybe I could help her,
fix her, love her enough for her to stop.

   I don't know, about love.  I never done it before, but felt something,
thinking about her.  Maybe it was love, I never felt it before, like this.
I didn't know her, really, but maybe when I do, I could.  Maybe I could
love her.

   I thought about her all the way up, to the city.  Not like I remember
her, but now, grown up.  Never showing her face, any more, her hair was
long enough to hang in frame, sometimes.  I wondered how she looked, all
grown up.

   I tried to imagine her face, not aged, but developed.  Her eyes,
greenish, not so disproportionately large.  Mature jaw, cheekbones instead
of the high soft blushing cheeks of a little girl.  But I couldn't, just
remembered her old face on her new body.

   Without the files playing in front of me, I just didn't remember a child
with her.  Still young, but with hips now, a flat tummy, and large perky
boobs.  That's what she called them in all the file descriptions.  Not
really my thing, I kind of like a flat chest, even the fat on Charley's
turned me off a little.

   I couldn't just pull it out, and jerk off driving anyway, so I imagined
her clothed, like when she showed up.  Always dressed like a teenager, it
didn't disguise her curves, womanly shape.  Not even sexy, really, I got on
the turnpike, headed for the airport, early.  A plane came in low, headded
for a landing stip, and I wondered if it was her's?

   Yuen (MF CP)

   I set up the projector while they sent up a screen.  A full service
business chain, they had meeting rooms for presentations, and even
conventions.  I tipped the bellboy for bringing it, set it up across from
the coffee table, and projector on it.

   She set down, crossed her legs in the corner of my eyes, but I looked at
the controls, started it up, turned out the light.  "Have a seat," she
patted the couch, "Make yourself comfterble."

   I got on the other end, but couldn't do the rest.  I watched her,
looking back at the lit screen, watching it.  I didn't need to keep it,
only had to close my eyes to see it again.

   "You can stay here tonight," she looked back, caught my eyes in her's
flashing in the almost dark room.  A suite, really, it had its own
bathroom, and kitchen in the back.  Another room just for the bed, and a
door to the next suite.  No windows, though, just a peephole in the front
door.

   I looked back at her, watching the movie.  Her legs were uncrossed,
hands down, fingers stopped moving between them.  I looked up, she was
smiling, staring at me.  On the wall, the camera was moving, circling
around.

   Us, standing naked together, her touching him, little Billy.  Her hands
on my thigh now, one slipping up my shirt, to my neck, my face.  She turned
my head, her's comming in, so close, her breath on my nose.  I closed my
eyes, but I could smell her.

   She smelled weird, not like when she was a girl.  I couldn't place it,
unlike anything else I know.  Human, musky, but feminine.  Her lips touched
mine, and I tried to relax them, open them like hers, accept her kiss.

   Her hand between my legs, pushing them apart.  She pulled back, "You can
touch me too." In the flashing light, she was beautifull.  Half her face
dark, half her hair lit up, blond around her face, smiling, eye looking in
mine.

   She took my hand, brought it up to her chest.  It felt so soft, too
soft, alien, weird.  I was too soft too, in her hand, slipped down the
front of my pants.  She squeezed me, but I just squished in her fingers. 
It wasn't sexy, didn't feel hot, just gross, like when they touched me, the
men.

   "Sorry," I looked down, away from her.  Between us, where there was
apparently nothing.

   Billy

   I won't tell you where I got the national reverse phone directory.  Law
Enforcement Only, I should have to be a fed, or high ranking police officer
to access it, much less have a copy in my pared down library.

   I sat on my bed in the hotel garage long enough to look up the area
code, and was on the interstate before my phone rang on the dash.  "Yeah?"
I looked down, "John?"

   "The raid was successfull," he said back, paused for the smile I could
imagine.  "He didn't have enough warning to get inside, shut down the
computer, and the server.  The techs are disabling the booby traps to take
it back with us."

   "Great!" I was hoping it was her's, not a sattelite mirror, but it was
headway.  From it we could get other numbers, dispatch teams to sweep them
up, break the cell structure of their organization.

   Parallel to the internet, dialup only, it can only be accessed over the
phone lines using almost obsolete MoDems.  The traffic could be disguised
as a cover business, like a telemarketing company in this case.

   I drove until I was too tired, found a motel, rented a room for the
night anonymously, payed cash.  Carrying in my computer, I plugged it in
the wall, took the chord from the phone while it powered up.  I knew I
couldn't sleep, took a quick shower after setting it to dial the new
number.

   Clean on the outside anyway, I dried myself off on my way back to the
room.  The BBS loaded, Exotic Imports, the webmaster.  Lots of others
online, but his profile didn't show his status.  No photo, his avatar was a
logo, a ship with a lopsided retangular mast, and a long hull.  An eastern
design, a Sampan, or something, I clicked on [Send a PM].

   It didn't, though, redirected me to a sign-in, feilds to fill out with a
banner at the top.  "Visit our website!" I got the link, though not
connected to the internet.  I decided on a name, 2young was already taken,
but not BillyBoy.

   I started a message as soon as I was registered, but then the modem went
black.  Unfinished, I clicked [send] anyway, but an error popped up.

   [No connection: Reconnect, and try again.]

   I tried redialing, but it just rang, and rang until it trilled.  "Do de
ding!" tinny through the modem's speaker.  "We're sorry," I leaned my ear
in to the buzz, "But the number you have dialed has been disconnected," I
reached for the keyboard, "or is no longer in service..."

   I killed the connection attempt.  Going back out to the car, I grabbed
the index, looked up the area code again, and grabbed the volume it was in.
I didn't sleep, gave up, and left early, but by the time I got there that
night, he was gone.

   Unlisted, but there was an address.  An unmarked office, in a park,
vertical blinds tight over the storefront windows.  Late, everything was
closed.  I broke in, no alarm, of course.  Furnished, more like a house
than the zoned commercial space.

   Up front was bare, but all the interior rooms were locked.  I already
had my flat bar out to force them, found fantasy rooms, bedrooms, a large
lavish bathroom, even a bare cinderblock walled dungeon, complete with
shackles, a rack of sex toys, and torture weapons like whips, and paddles.
Small ones, dildos, and dilaters, cuffs that had to be custom, hanging at a
child's height.

   Smudge marks on all the floors.  Rubber circles, three of them the same
distance apart, tripods, or one moved around.  Finally, a security door at
the back of the hall.  The computer room, a desk with several phone jacks,
all plugged into the wall, but empty.

   A bed next to it, or a bare matress on a cot.  A lot more missing, but
most importantly, the computer, and modems.  Sighing, I got out my phone,
lots of reception at least.  Voicemail, "Hey, John.  It's me, do you think
you can send me the LUDs for a phone line?" I gave him the number.

   The Local Usage Details, it would have every number that dialed in here,
and any one his computer dialed.  I didn't catch him, yet but I still had a
trail to follow.

   So, I thought about his evolution, "daddy's".  He bought me, found out
what little English I knew on the plane.  Still no memory of where I was
from except for more people like me.  Nothing of my original language, my
real name, how young was I?

   He took me home, tired by the flight.  A small house, one level, one
bedroom.  He didn't even touch me, but I felt him behind me, wetting the
bed, sticky instead of like Pee.  He gave me a bath in the morning, washed
me, inside the skin on my dinkle.

   That's what he called it, to little to be a dick, like he had. 
Infantile, he talked like a child, taught me to talk, with a southern
accent.  Kentucky, but he was nowhere near there now, probably packing up
to run again.

   He was circumcised, though.  Shaved, daily, not even stubbly most times
cept in the mornings.  Soft hands, no callouses, but big, to me anyway.  He
kept teaching me, howda squeeze my legs together to get hard, specialy when
we were sleeping.

   Waking up hard, in his fingers.  His other hand beind me, slipping
between my thighs.  Holding them together, tight around his dick, sliding
back and forth under my dingle.  Petting me, fingers slipping up, and down,
biggern my dinkle.  The sound he made, wetting the bed again, and getting
up to give me a bath.

   What the fuck, it was a back road, empty this time of night.  I forced
myself to keep my eyes open, a hand on the wheel, the cum waisted on my
pant leg.  It woke me up some, so I blinked, tucked myself back in one
handed, and caught my breath.

   Had he become sadistic?  That weren't a play dungeon back there, even
with the toy sized instrments.  Like Bobby Thorpe's, the hidden basement
room with the drywalled door.  He didn't do the inquisitional theme, with
cuffs, and torture toys, but face it, it was a cell.

   Or maybe he ran prostitution, I didn't get enough of a look at his
childporn service.  Not a sadist, but not above selling kids to them, or
renting them, maybe a partner, to keep them obedient, train them?

   John

   "Damn it Billy!" I got out, shifted my belt, went in to the front desk.
The Motel was useless, everybody was gone, even the girl at the desk, our
only witness had quit.  I sent some locals to her address, and went to the
hospital where he was.

   "Yes?" the nurse at reception looked up.

   My wallet already out, I showed my credentials, "Special Agent John
Willis," badge, "FBI." I have to admit, this case was good for my carreer.
After one splashy arrest, a child pornographer with traces to a web of
them, it had even become a priority.

   "How can I help you?" she nodded "Sir?"

   I gave her the witnesses name.  Confidential, pending the US Attourney's
Office, she looked it up, and gave me the room number.  I couldn't see him,
unconcious, and medicated.  I settled for talking to the doctor, who was
treating him.

   He should have waited.  I told him, "we're right behind you," when I
gave him the new number.  The doctor told me I wouldn't see him tonight,
but I convinced him to tell me why.  Heavilly sedated so he could rest with
the pain, he had a torn rectal wall, just got out of surgery to clear out
the ascites, and septic infection in his "lower thorasic cavity."

   He'd been raped, brutaly, and as lead investigator, was given the
Medical Examiner's report.  "God," Billy, "What did you do?"

   "We sutured him as well as we could," the doctor shrugged, "cleaned him
out, and managed to stop the infection.  It's gonna take a while for him to
heal, and he may never make a full recovery."

   I got to see him, unconcious in the bed, face down.  Even like that, I
could recognise him, from the film, and tape billy got from a "confidential
source." The other "daddy," Bobby Thorpe had already been killed in prison.

   Kenny {MM Dialogue}

   "Man," Billy, "You growed up." Last I sawed him he was barely a
teenager, testifying in court about his abuse at the hands of Robert M. 
Thorpe.

   He grinned, even his eyes, "Where'd you get a Khakhi Lab Coat?"

   I chuckled, led him back to my office, "They come in all colors
nowadays," look down, "I think this came from a County Sherriff's Lab."

   "Huh," he sat down, and I tried again to read him.  Not normal enough
for the baseline set.

   "I guess your foster father toldja we got Gary in." One of his other
"fathers," the pedophile who brought him to the US.

   "Yeah," he looked away, "I was wondering if I could talk to him."

   "He's healed some," guilt?  "Someone tore him up pretty good before he
went to a hospital."

   "Yeah," he got up, "Could you set up an interrogation?"

   "What's this about?" to the back of his head.

   "I need to find out where I'm from," he turned from the door.

   Billy {MM Pris Rape Bond}

   "Billy!" he looked excited, shaken, so old.  Kind of a peter pan
complex, he couldn't make it to Neverland, keep the wrincles out of his
face.

   "Sit down," I shifted uncomfortably, and he did gently.  Months ago, he
couldn't still be sore.

   "You raped me," he accused, "I never raped you."

   "I know," I'm not sorry, "You just sold me to a sexual sadist to rape
me."

   "It hurt," he was crying?  I mean, he wept, then but now he wasn't
screaming.

   "I know," I said, "I just couldn't help myself." Not an appology, but a
quote, the way he'd said it.

   "They rape me here," he sobs, "Evry night, it's so awefull."

   "Gary," I try to get him back one track, "GARY!" Don't make me call you
daddy.

   "Whuhuh?" looking up, so old for such a child.

   "You bought me," I reminded him, "I wanna know where you went to get
me."

   "Hongkong," he remembered, "But you're not from there, he said he'd meet
me there at the airport." Right, only now do I remember the first flight,
next to him.

   "Do you remember his name?" I asked.

   "His number," he nodded, "He changed it, but he helped me get more after
you left."

   "Does he have a BBS?" It would be in evidence, the computers he'd taken
with him when he fled.

   "Yes," he grinned, "I'll show it to you, just take me to a computer." I
walked out my side, cutting off the intercom to from his side of the glass.
Reinforced, like cicken wire, I left him to what he deserved.

   There was some international numbers on his LUDs, wouldn't take forever
to go through them all.

   Yuen Ng (M Solo Tran Porn.)

   I found a nice wifi spot behind the diner.  After hours, the hotspot
stayed up all night, and extended to the alley.  Climbing in the back of my
cargo van, I let the curtain fall over the backs of the seats, wadded my
pillow behind me, and set the new laptop on it's cradle.

   [http://www.seasiatours.com/] the website came up.  Completely legal,
they catered to sex tourists, but not pedophiles.  Mail order brides,
grooms, and vacation travel for their legal prostitution, I clicked on one
of the mirrors, the address a bunch of numbers under the banner for
BangCockBabes.

   Sub-specialized for Thais, they had a menue on the side: [Thaiboys
Thaigirls Thailadyboys . . .]

   "Click."

   I had the bandwith to load the whole page, along with IMGs.  The
internet, they had them right on the page, all of them links to the
paysite. [http://www.thailadyboys/join.htm] in the status bar.

   It required not just a credit card, or paypal, but also a phone number
to join, I had to go [back] to fill in the latter feild.  I used my cell
number, prepaid, states away, not even John had it.

   I hadn't talked to him in a while.  The one man who could track me down,
now that they had a reason.  I decided not to dwell on it, and agreed to
the Terms of Service without reading it.  I skimmed, the usual about all
models being over the age of concent in the jurisdiction of filming. 
Interesting wording, it said 18 somewhere, but as the minimum age required.

   My phone rang, {Intl Call} no number, so I answered it.  "Hel," I could
hear the electronic noise of data, like a modem before I even got it to my
ear.  Hanging up, I backdialed, listened to it ring, but not like I'd ever
heard it before.

   "Weih?" then something I didn't understand.  In some language I don't
know, it sounded like Chinese.

   "Hello," I tried, "Do you speak English?"

   "Ingrish, yesh, I gat som juan." Music, weird twanging, not at all
pleasent, though obviously supposed to be.  A man's voice, announcer, or
something in Chinese, or whatever.

   The website told me to verify through email, so I tabbed back to the one
I signed up for, looked at the picture, like a test for color blindness. 
Clicking the link, I typed in the twisted characters, some of them
punctuation symbols.

   The website opened, showing a little billing statement off in the top
corner, big splashy nude pictures to distract me from it.  {Welcome to Thai
Ladybois!} I scrolled down the background image for her cock.  Twisted
sideways so I could see her face, and tit too, her hand was up, cupping the
other one behind it.

   And farther down, it stood out proud, foreskin pulling back around her
dark reddish head.  Other IMGs, next to it, I smiled, and scrolled back up
the list.

   [Our Most Popular Models:] all with names like Mint, and Saffron, and
Jade, and Amythist.  I clicked on "Kaluha", past Photosets to movies.  Out,
and hard, I brought up her, and "Incense." Petting myself while the Player
loaded, buffered, it came on.

   Two of them, beautifull, and exotic, but the same as me, they stripped
each other, feeling around, kissing, mouths open, tongues rolling around
together.

   "Helro?" my phone, on speaker said.

   "Yes," I turned back to the action, "I just got a call on this number,
but it was all electronic noise." I couldn't tell if it was a male, or
female voice, over the accent, and kept stroking.

   "Ded yu join any new websites rately?" she paused, "This jus par of
regisraton."

   "Uh huh," Incense knelt down, or was it Kaluha?  I guess they weren't
worried about copywrite, or trademark infringement.  "Huhuhh!" slipped out.
She was sucking her cock in, the camera panning up to her face, leaning
back, mouth open to moan.

   "Woul you rike talk to juan of orl girs?" he heard me, even I did
through the earpeice.  "or bois?"

   "Yeah," I mean, "No." I almost dropped the phone on my shaking shoulder.
"You handle travel, yes?  Adoptions."

   "We can arange fo u visit or beautifu naton," she pidgioned, "an meet
orl beautifu pepur, or many other destinaton."

   "Thank you," I couldn't keep it up, get off along with holding a
conversation, so I decided to wrap one up.

   "Or, you dair up this numberl, anytime, for esclisiv overs." She hung
up, and I beat off to Incense bent over, Kaluha fucking her, both tits
swinging, reaching around to stroke her.

   I had to disconnect, drive to a landline to dial in, but saved the
pages. Back at the hotel, I went in, pushed the clothes off the bed, and
went back in Offline Mode.

   Too cheap a place for internet, I plugged into the phone line, hovered
over the [dialup] link on the signup page, copied the number into the modem
connecton manager.

   Muted, it kept me posted on the screen.  [Dialing...Handshake. 
Establishing connection...]Another panel popped up,

   [Please restart your computer, do not disconnect, BBS software will
autoboot for upload.]

   I clicked [OK], got out my phone, brought up Internet.  My computer went
blank, the power button flashed, and it began starting up.

   [connected] on my phone, I tapped down through favorites, found the
international code interface, and typed in the number.  Hongkong, some
subdistrict, can't narrow it down any more.

   Grey Screen, and a box.  [English] with other languages below it in
characters I couldn't read.  Kanji, Chinese, Cyrillic, and Roman,
[Francias, Espanol, Potuges, German, Slav..] with no enya, et cetera.

   I clicked the top one, and got a command prompt.
[c:/ dir

   man/ woman/ men/ women/ man, and woman/ trans/ man, and trans/ woman,
and trans/ boy/ girl/ boy, and girl/ boys/ girls/ trans and child/ group/ ]

   I got hard again, just looking at the menue.  All Thai, I had to wait to
download them, so just went slow to keep it up.
[c:/ trans, and child
c:/ dir

   boy/ girl/
c:/ boy] and a whole directory of .gif, .jpg, .mpg, and .mov files.
I scrolled down, interesting, the command prompt, but with the visual
interface, I could click on any of the directories, but had to type [dir]

to view them.  I picked [Tb bath playtime]

   [Songyin play with little boy in tub.  Tb water, suck, mollest]
Description, and codes, I clicked [download] instead of [/parent directory]

   "Yeah!" no credits, or nothing, just straight to bathtime.  Like one of
the babysitter movies, but both are Thai.  He's down in the corner, looking
up at her.

   Simple white blouse, not shear, or tight, but wrincled around her
titties.  Big enough I can tell they gotta be fake even without no detail.
(||), her face in profile.  Pretty, oriental eyes closed too much to see
her pupils, where she's looking.

   Straight diagonal brow, high cheekbone, little nose curving foreward,
soft looking lips, round chin.  There, the only masculine trait to pick up
on.  A corner at the jawline, instead of the curve of a woman, or child's.
(>)

   She finishes her step, hair swinging foreward to cover the corner of his
jaw, lips curling up in a smile.  Taking his hands, helping him to stand on
the side of the tub.  Handheld camera, the tub is large, and a rounded
triangle like a racetrack, the bronse tone faucet in the right corner,
pouring, steaming double reflected behind it.

   The camera moves lower, either the cameramen kneeling, or letting it
down on his arm.  His shirt comming up, off, big smile.  Not old enough for
muscletone, nipples invisible on his relatively pale chest, deep tanlines
on his arms, and neck.

   Her hands come down, sleeves already rolled up, his pants down to his
feet.  Back up to his hip, (||) again to see her hand.  It looked older
than her, and too broad.  While not quite as long as her index, the ring
finger was virilised enough to be noticable.

   (>) With her help, he stepped out of his pants, dingle dangling. 
uncircumcized, like mine, the cute little glans was covered in skin,
wrincling around the tip like a cruller, his wrincled little purse round
behind it.

   Her fingers, rough looking, brushing between his legs, fingers curling
to fluff them, making them swing.  "HuhH!" my own skin pulling back around
the sensitive tip.  I uncrossed my legs, flipped my fingertips under my
balls.

   He climbs down, and the camera swings up, panning down to an overhead
shot.  She reaches across to shut off the water, and sits back.  He
splashes, playfully, and the camera jumps up to her leaning back.  Her
hair, wet, soaking into the shirt.

   Transparent, braless, the nipples looked black under the slick shear
shirt.  She pulled it tight, and letters apeared below her, translating. 
She gasped, sending them bouncing, but not enough.  Too round, but the
small dark hard nipples are centered, not cockeyed.

   She does the natural thing, and takes it off, the camera moving back
down from the mirrored corner to him.  Leaning back, and taking it it, his
little dickey is floating free, scrotum ballooned under it, but the skin is
pulled back around the glans.

   Just happy to be in his own porno, he looked like maybe 10, completely
prepubescent.  Like a little thumb, the heart shaped head sideways at this
angle.  She reaches in again, and touches him.

   "Uh!" it almost hurts, my phone ringing, and the orgasm jumping out
almost simultaniously!"

   "Wei?" another wet jumping twitch, I hold my breath against the sound.

   "Uh," a quiet sob, "I need to talk to Billy," uhuhuhuh, "Billy Young."
Instadead, the orgasm dying inside me.

   "Orl right," I singsong, "Ret me cahnect you!" My hold 'music' a
dialtone, {Booooo Boooooo Booo, clct!} Balls already starting to ache, I
try to close my pants up quiet.

   "Billy here," she sounded bad.

   "Ahhh," another sob, "I heard about you, from someone."

   "Whatsher problem," sexual assault case.

   "I," nnnnggh!  "I was," deep breath, "Just,"

   "Raped?" becomming more'n more obvious.

   "Wahah!" I waited,..  "A man, and his son, hihihihihih!" shuddering
gasp.

   "Where are you?" I got out my notebook, damn, clear across country.

   "I have proof," she managed to control herself better, "Vidio, I just
need them arrested."

   "Why didn't you call the police?" had to be some closer.

   "I don't want to get arrested too," click.  Fuck, backdial, damn,
blocked.  Oh, well, she'd call back.

   Billy {Tb Cp Moll}

   My phone rang, and I jumped.

   "Hello?" no number, but no [Intl #] either, domestic.

   "Yes," a man's voice, "I am local representitive of Far East Adventure
International."

   "How did you get this number?" great, now I'm on some list, but I could
burn the phone, be back on the road in minutes.

   "I see you in Kalifornya area, yes?" can't block a disposamobile this
cheap.

   "Yeah?" but I didn't buy it here, must be the hardline, which means I
know who this had to be.

   "You are interesed in vacation to Bangkok, yes?" he offered, "Or
adoption?"

   "Yeah," I lied.  I wouldn't know what to do with a child, "I like
trannys." by choice.

   "Sure," he laughed, "Lots ladyboys in Thailand, would you like meet
some?"

   "Where's your office?" I checked the phone uselessly for a number, "I'll
come see you."

   "Marin," he answered, "Get a hotel, and call me, I'll come see you."

   I hung up.  The download was far enough along I could watch the
beginning, and what I had.  More than enough to get me off, both were thai,
the little boy in the tub looked enough like me, I used to for me to
imagine myself in there.  Looking up at her, smiling, kissing her dick,
sucking her off, my hard little dick floating in the water.

   I came, disconnected the computer, and shut it down.  Pulling on a robe
from some other hotel, I smoked out on the walkway, looked down on my van.
I thought about getting in, driving off, north to Marin.  Instead, I
flicked off my butt, and went back in to bed.  It was payed for all night,
might as well use it.

   Billy (MM rape)

   Asleep, I can't surpress the memory.  That blacked out night, when I got
the contact information from daddy, he sobbed it to me naked, curled up on
the floor.  His screams, the fear in his eyes looking up at me, over the
gun, right between his eyes.

   His back, ass in my hands, inside him, fucking in as hard as I can, his
screams.  I ran blindly in the dark room, made it to the toilet, vomited in
it.  The nightmare, I can't escape it.  No matter what I do, I can't go
back, change what I did, what that made me.

   The horrible thing about that night, the rape is that I wasn't the
victim.  "Grhul!" it splashed disgustingly in front of my face, echoed in
the bowl.  It hurt, but not nearly enough.  Wasn't enough punishment for
the way it felt, the sadistic pleasure I got out of it.

   I spat, whiped my mouth, and turned on the light.  "Get my stuff," I
packed up mindlessly, carried it down to the van, loaded it, and drove.  It
was light before I got there, 9am before anybody answered.

   "Hello?" him again.

   "Hi," I needed something else, a diffrent experience to remember.  "I'm
here, where do you like?"

   "My favrite hotel is th..." he started.

   "No," I interrupted, "How bout a restraunt?" someplace public.  "You had
breakfast?"

   "Not yet," he laughed, and told me a place.  My phone knew it, and with
it's directions, I got there first.

   Not real hungry myself, I got coffee, and waited.

   "Just you hun?" the waitress dropped off a pot, and cup.

   "I'm expecting someone," I looked up, and she frowned at my eyes, I
think.  Racist?" She dropped off another cup, and saucer, "tell me when
you're ready to order," and a couple glasses of water.  I lifted the menue,
and looked around.  His English was very good, but from it, I expected
another Asian, and I was the only one here.

   "Ding!" the door swung closed, and a girl looked around.  Straight black
hair, and a schoolgirl uniform like out of the Anime.  Japanese face,
smiling, she came up to me.

   "Mr.  Ng?" she blinked down at me.

   "Yes?" the voice sounded wrong, not quite high enough, but trying to be,
very much like the voice on the phone.

   "I'm Mink," she took off her short fur sweater, set it down on the other
side of the table, and slid in next to me.

   "You're," I leaned in, whispered, "A ladyboy?"

   "She" laughed, "Of course!"

   "K'nI getcha honey?" the waitress was back, pad, and pencil out.

   "The usual," the shemale looked up to see if she recognised her.

   "One Thai breakfast," she marked off, "And you?"

   "I'll try that," my stomach was feeling better, even a little hungry. 
"And a Dr.  Pepper."

   "So," Mink turned back to me, "How can I help you?"

   I looked around, at the wholesome familly right behind us, the kids
diving into their pancakes.  "I don't know," I looked back, shook my head
slowly, "We'll talk about that after we eat."

   She looked over at them, winked.  "Sure," she was probably used to
working with discretion.  "Travel?" she asked, "or closer to home?"

   "Both," I looked down, "I'm pretty sure I traveled with your company
before."

   "Really?" she looked me up, and down, "Where to?"

   "Here, actually." I admitted, "America.  That's part of what I wanted to
talk to you about."

   "When?" she sat back, let the waitress drop a bowl in front of each of
us.  She turned, and wandered off before I could ask about my soda.

   Noodles, mostly, and other stuff.  Eggs, I think, definitely fish, for
breakfast?  It smelled weird, familiar, but to far back to remember, and
real good.  "Some time in the eighties," I thought out loud before scooping
some into my mouth with the sticks.

   She slurped some, bit off the noodles to hang on the wad wrapped around
her sticks.  Chewing, and swallowing, "You want to find out about that?"
Mouth full, I nodded, "We don't have records back that far." Before I could
finish swallowing, her face got a little upset.  "You lie to me, on the
phone."

   I shook my head, "Mo!" choked down the rest, "I ment it, I do like,"
look over at them, looking up, "That was the truth."

   "You do?" she smiled, "You like me?" I looked her up, and down,
swallowed again, even though my mouth was empty.

   Pretty, so feminine you couldn't tell, "Yeah."

   "Maybe I have time with you," she smiled, winked away from the family,
"After breakfast." I wondered how much that would cost, and if it'd be
worth it.  I took another bite, chewed, and swallowed slowly for time to
eat.  She ate some more too.

   I knew what we were talking about, even edited for the kids. 
Prostitution, she would have sex, for money.  I'd never been with one
before, my only experience I had with it was Thorpe, and the the men he
sometimes brought home.

   My ass clenched unconciously, but nobody could see it.  I swallowed what
was in my mouth before I could get nautious again, set down my sticks next
to it.

   "You don't like it?" she looked over, turning hers in her bowl.

   "No, it's good!" I caught myself, "Very filling." I whiped my mouth, got
up, and went to the bathroom.  I didn't get sick, but not because of the
face in the mirror.

   I looked tired, my tight eyes making it impossible to miss the swelling
under them.  All of a sudden, I felt like passing out, not finding
someplace to go with her.  I washed my face, but it didn't take the dirty
look off, make me look more awake, less suspicious, guilty.

   Back at the table, she'd finished her bowl.  "You want?" she pointed at
mine.

   "No," I held my hand up, "Now where did you say was a good hotel?"

   She got up, pulled open her purse.  "I show you," she pulled out a
wallet, payed for me.  "Just put it on my bill," tucked the receipt in with
it.

   "The closest one is there," she pulled out a phone, "I call them for
you." I headded for my car.  "Get sum res!" she shouted, put her phone to
her head, "An call me later."

   I still had to check in, but it was quicker for having the last minute
reservation.  The desk boy even carried my bags for me, though this
definitely wasn't the kind of place for that kind of service.

   I didn't even look at the room, just fell on the bed, passed out, and
thankfully, didn't dream.  In the morning, I got up, checked the time. 
Make that evening, I think, the bedside radio said [PM].  I took a shower,
didn't look so bad in the mirror.  Just washing the sleep sweat off, the
road dust, the funk from the back of my van, I didn't try to get any
"cleaner" than that.

   I thought about her, her face transposed to the bodies from the website,
naked, hard.  I got hard too, but didn't jerk off, saved myself, braced
myself.  "Hei?"

   "Hello," I pulled on some underwear, "This is Bil'," I stopped myself,
"Yuen Ng, we met earlier."

   "Oh, HI!" I pulled the phone back from my ear, "You feel better now? 
Ready?  For me?"

   "I think so," I hoped.  "Can you come over?"

   "Sure!" bright, and happy, "I see you soon.  How should I dress?"

   I thought about it, "Nice, like today, not too slutty." Not like a
whore. I knew, but everbody watching my room didn't have to.  "Room two
f',"

   "I know!" she stopped me quickly, "You don't have to say it." On the
phone, it's not like we were talking about anything legal here.  "Click."

   "Bye," I flipped shut the phone, got dressed, sat down, and psyched
myself up for this.  I couldn't wait, thought she'd never get there by the
time she knocked on the phone.

   "Hi," she smiled, down from her high heels.  Not too much, FM pumps, or
hooker heels, but nice classy business shoes.  "Come on," I stepped out,
pulled the door behind me, "lets go out."

   "My time is valuable," she said stifly, but let me put my arm around
her.

   "I know," but I wasn't worried about it.  Her arm felt good over my
shoulder, squeezed my arm.

   I walked to her car, nice, a Lexus.  "Where to?"

   "Wherever you like to go," I got in the other side, "Surprise me."

   "Klunk!" the doors closed with a muted thump, "Klunk!"

   "Oh!" she looked over at me, securing the belt, "I think we can help you
with your research."

   "How?" I clicked in exitedly.

   "We only have one person from that long ago," she started up the car,
"Dr.  Lee."

   I saw the name on the website, the webmaster.  "Really?"

   She nodded to the windsheild, pulling out.  "He call me today, say we
call him, later, he see what he can remember."

   "Cool," at last.

   "What you want to know?" she glanced over, then back to the street.

   "Where am I from?" mostly, "I don't remember, much, before I come to the
states."

   "Oh," she laughed, "I bet you Thai!"

   I thought so, "Why?"

   "He Thai," she said, "Only in Bangkok then.  And you look Thai." Good
enough, for now.

   "He worked with Shemales," her eyebrows came down, not liking that word,
"Transgender back then?"

   "Of couse not," she smiled, waved it away blindly, "Noone did, then.  We
just the new thing."

   "Oh," I guessed.  "Since you know so much about me, can I ask about
you?"

   "Hei," she looked over, "Yes, what do you want to know?"

   "You from Japan?" I guessed, told myself not to start talking in pigin.

   "Uh huh," she nodded to the road, "Okinawa."

   "How did you get here?" I prompted her.  Didn't want it to turn into an
interrogation, but she didn't offer anything, unless I asked.

   "I was," she searched for the word, "Different, wanted to be like girl,
not boy."

   "Uh huh?" I figured.

   "My familly is very concervative.  The treatments, operations expensive,
and they not pay for it."

   "How old were you?"

   "I met Dr.  Lee when I was eit."

   "And he made you,.."

   "Newhalf," she nodded, "Transexual."

   "How?"

   "He give me pills," she shrugged, "Made me grow hips, oppai," looking
over, "Bress."

   "Then what?"

   "He teach me, bring me here, to work, pay back my Giri to him."

   "What kind of work?" I could guess, assume, or come out, and ask.

   "Whatever he need," she shrugged, "Arrainge trips, travel for women,
men, ladyboys, boys, girls." she took a breath, "...meetings, sex, company,
what ever."

   Prostitute, travel agent, spokes person, maybe a little bit of
underground illegal social worker, for marriages, adoptions.  She waited
for another question, I couldn't think of.  "You ready?" she turned to me,
"Talk to him?"

   I swallowed, "Sure," so she hit a button on the dash.

   "Call Dr.  Lee." she said to noone, then the sound system picked up.

   "Boooood," it rang, "Boo, click."

   "Conichiwa," a man's voice, "Mink.  He there?"

   "Hei," she looked over at me, nodded at the dash.

   "Hi," I said around the frog in my throat, "Uhm."

   "You say you one of my old students," Interesting choice of words, he
spoke English, with an accent, but it sounded like a Californian one. 
"That right?"

   "Uh, yeah," I was pretty sure.  I mean, that's what He said, where that
led me.

   "Now what d'you want?" he sounded bored, in a hurry.  Behind him, I
heard a muffled beat, music, like outside a club, a dance club.

   "Who I am," I guessed, "Where I'm from?"

   "When was this?" the music got loud all a sudden.  Someone said
something, in Asian.  "Justaminit!" away from the phone, then a door
closing, off the music.  "Do che deh!"

   "I dunno," I don't remember very well, I was real young, but how young?
"Eighties?  Early Eighties." The first thing I remember on TV was MTV,
music vidios, new wave, Michael Jackson.

   "That it?" he sighed, "Probably Thailand." Great help.

   "I have pictures," from His personal stash.  I still couldn't even think
his name without thinking Daddy first.  He only posted the ones that didn't
show him, his face, but he didn't throw away the others.

   "Bring him here, Mink." He hung up.

   "Where?" I looked around, realised we were out of the city, the only
lights besides cars far off in the distance.  Up in the hills, and
mountains too, it was hard to tell where they ended, and the stars began.

   "His club," she said, "In China Town." I drove over the Golden Gate, on
the way up yesterday, or rather this morning.  But now I was a passenger,
and it was lit up for the night.  I craned my head to look up, at the
cables, curving up to the high red deco towers.

   "Sex club?" I guessed.

   "Yeah?" she looked over at me, sitting back again.  "Is it okay?"

   "I guess?" to tell the truth, I never been in one.  I mean, I'm still
not sure about my sexuality, it's all confused with the pedophilia, racial,
and gender things.  I know some things that I don't like, and it's pretty
much what you find in most any strip club.  "What kind of sex club?"

   "You know," she shrugged, "Dancers, private rooms."

   "Prostitutes?" she turned, almost angry again.

   "You not police, or anything, right?"

   "Of course not!" I acted hurt, angry at the mere implication, to cover
how close it was to the truth.

   "Yes," she hissed, "Sex for money, Call Girls, like me."

   "I know," I rased my hand, "I knew you where, but I just want to make
sure I'm prepaired." She looked at me, suspiciously.  "What kind of
prostitution?"

   "Asians," she sighed, "Men, and girls, and ladyboys like me."

   "No children, though," I hoped, "Right?" It's not that I don't like
children, I'm just afraid, that I do.  I'd rather just stay away from them,
and never find out.

   "No," she nodded, "No children."

   I let out my breath, "Good." just realized I was holding it.

   It was deep in China Town, at some point we had to park, and walk.  Down
alleys too narrow to drive, they seemed to wind endlessly, like a labrynth.

   They weren't empty, either.  Mostly hookers, pimps, sex gangsters, all
Asian.  Mink nodded to them, and they nodded back, but somehow I didn't
feel any safer knowing they were our sex gangsters.  I held onto her,
realizing how rediculous it looked, so scared I depended on her for
protection.  I wished I had a chance to at least grab my gun, without her
noticing.  Remembered it before she picked me up.

   It wasn't marked, and there was no line, velvet rope, bouncers by the
door.  The alley dead ended, and the only way I knew we were there was the
music, the muffled beat thumping through the door.  She knocked, looked in
something by the door.  A peep hole, she stood back far enough to recognise
her face, but had to bend down in her heels.

   The door opened, and there were the bouncers.  Oriental, one dark
skinned, they weren't big, but looked strong, tough, armed.  Even the tall
dark one in the bustier.

   "Mink!" the short guy spread his arms, hugged hir.  "New customer?" to
me.

   "He's here to see Mr.  Lee." she pulled back, "Tell him we are here."
They opened another door for us, led us into a waiting room, I guess.  Most
of them don't have couches big enough to have sex on, just chairs, and
magazine racks.

   "We could wait in the club," she turned to offer.  I thought about it,
"no," too many people, and probably just too much, "I like your company."

   "You want me wait with you?" she stopped on her way to the couch, "Or I
can dance for you." The music from the club came in through speakers up in
the corners.  Not loud, background level, but clear enough to hear.  Dance
music, I bet she could strip to it.

   "What would that cost?" no telling how much I owe all ready.  I don't
pretend to understand something as foreign as Giri, but these were sex
criminals, slavers.  They would like to get you in their pocket, owing
them, and I didn't have that much.

   "I don't know," she shrugged, "I don't usually do that kind of work, and
there no telling what Dr.  Lee will charge you."

   "Have a seat," I patted the cusion next to me, "Talk to me."

   "Okay," she sat down, but didn't say anything.  I tried to think of
something until she decided to ask me, "What do you do, for work?"

   "I don't work," I sighed, and sat back.  "I have a trust fund," I looked
for understanding, and she nodded, pulling up her legs.  "From my 'daddys,'
they had all these profits, from whoring me out to their freinds, and
selling pictures of me."

   "Oh," her legs fell, turned sideways, and bent back between us.  Great
legs, long, and smooth, and feminine.  Her skirt was modest, not that
short, but rode up her thighs sitting like that.  Her eyes followed mine,
looking up guiltily.  "You do like me," she leaned in, smiling, legs
sliding back out with a sound I can't describe.

   "Yeah," I admit.  She looked pretty damned good, knowing what she was
hiding even made it sexy.  "Wait," I stopped hir, almost touching her face,
so close to me I could smell her perfume.

   She bit her lip, "Don't worry," looked back, and forth, "I won't charge
you." She leaned into my hand, ran her cheek in it, smooth, and soft.  I
felt it, up to run my fingers in her thick straight black hair.  Closed my
eyes, and pulled her gently in.

   Her lips were soft, willing, open.  I opened mine, let her tongue in to
taste mine.  My hands felt her legs, thighs, shirt sliding up over my
fingers.  She touched me, my chest, pulling my shirt open, up out of my
pants.

   I slid up, her shirt, to her chest.  Her bare, what did she call them?
Opei, soft in my hands.  Her soft hands on my belly, fingers quickly
opening my pants, reaching in.

   Slipping down, to the waist of her skirt.  Under it, the lacey edge of
her panties.  The silky fabric pulled tight, the hardness in them.  As
small as mine, I felt no foreskin, just the cute bare rubbery head on my
fingertips.

   "Huhh!" I pulled back breathless, sighed hot, and humid in her face so I
could feel it, smell it, our breath.  "Can I,?" I coudn't finish, decide.

   "Whatver you want," she closed her eyes, and kissed me again.

   mink@tmale.net

   I'm sorry, I never got to see you again, but I'm glad I can still write
to you.  I want to tell you my story, all of it, and read the rest of
yours. I'm happy we were able to be together, at least that once, and even
if that is all, it is enough.

   It is not the sex, if I need that, I can get enough.  It was the love,
the physical part of it, but the feeling of it too.  It has been so long
since I felt that, the love with the sex.  I have never just had sex
because that's what I wanted, what I felt, when it was for me.

   I guess it was greedy of me, in a way, but I have given so much.  Thank
you for giving it to me, instead of taking it.  I know, you weren't ready,
but somehow I knew, back then that if I waited, I never would have the
chance again.

   You took so long deciding, making up your mind.  You knew you liked me,
I knew it the first time you looked at me, watching me walk up to you.  You
tried not to look at me, that way, but after all, you couldn't help it,
staring at me, getting lost in my eyes.

   I did not imagine it, I watched you the whole time, where you looked
until I was sure.  But you still couldn't convince yourself to do it, take
me, held yourself back until I had to, or it would be too late.  I think it
was the prostitution thing, you not give in until I say I no charge you. 
Im glad you did, we did, or then I would never know you, touched you, seen
you as you are.  Your whole beauty.

   You are beautifull.  Not just your face, or your pretty chinko, penis.
It's your whole body, all of you, the look of your face, looking at me,
your hands on me, you in me, your taste, your mouth one me, body against
mine, love flowing into me.

   I never felt that before, or with anyone else.  Since you prefer to
think, back, I'll start from now to as far back as I can remember.

   Before I met you, I lived here, worked for 6 years in northern
california.  By work, I mean all the things I told you, sex, and travel,
and matchmaking, and entertainment.

   Now, I am the area represntative of Mr.  Lee, and all of his enterprizes
here.  There are others, many around Los Angles, a few in Las Vegas, and
one each in Fresno, Reno/Tahoe.  I know there are more, all over the world,
but these I know.  We get together whenever we are in town.

   We have many we are responsable for, but we are not the bosses, we tell
the pimps what to do.  There is also drugs, and money laundering, but we
don't deal with that.  They bring us the drugs we need, and they take the
money a way to wherever, whatever.

   I worked my way up to this, though, two years ago I ran a call girl
service, less than a year, I was there best girl, in all the hotels, and
client houses in the area.  And before that, I was in a house, for years, I
don't know how many.

   I did all the rolls, learned to play some of the games well, like the
Kogal, or school girl, or the scared foreign girl, "no speeke Ingrishee,"
and even the Miso Horni nip slut.

   When I come, I know only two roles.  Geisha, which is complicated, and
proper Japanese wife.  Like shinto, traditional, but with the twist, the
something extra I have instead of real girl.  That make it dirty, to the
conservatives with an unadmittable desire, and to make fun of the old ways
with Ecchi, perversion.  Like the western pornography, with the models
dressed as nuns, and preists.

   Before that was Japan, Tokyo, where I was Mancon.  They could not say it
here, and it sounded like Mink, so I shorten it.  One of my clients liked
it so much, he gave me a fur jacket, just for changing it.  Mancon is not
my real name, it means dickgirl, really, but I don't want my familly name.
I would only use it to spite them.

   I made a good living as a Secret Mistress.  There, married men have
other women.  Everyone doesn't notice, or say anything, but it is
understood, this is what men do.  Women too, of corse, but that was a death
offence just over a generation ago, and women are still strangled with
their own hair for it today.

   Men do not have sex with men, though.  They don't think about it, or if
anyone knows that you do, they turn away from you.  The whole society, they
abandon you, to do the right thing, and kill yourself rather than live with
the shame.  If you do not, you are ruined, cannot work, get a job if they
heard about your shame.  You can end it, and never be spoken of again, or
run away, and be cursed untill they die, and everyone they tell.

   That is not my culture, but I remember it.  It was wrong, so much more
than here, so I chose to be American.  But still, there, than, you have
boys, and men pretty enough to be mistaken for girls, and women.  Even
before Lee found me, and gave me this body, I did so for the men who liked
little boys, and would rather to be thought to like little girls.

   I think that's what they think, how their minds work, but I might not be
right.  I never fit in, understood, could even pretend in that society. 
The modern things, that I understand here just make it more confusing
there. People just embrace a modern thing, completely opposite tradition,
and there doesn't seem to be any way to tell without accidently offending
them, or making them pity you for being so backward, and old fashioned.

   I was selling myself because I was on the streets, but I was on the
streets because my familly drove me out.  I didn't want to run away, but I
knew, and still know as bad as it was out there, it was worse if I stayed
with my familly.

   Very traditional, the girls were in a seperate house from the boys,
because they had enough money for two children's houses.  Even my servants
were women, the only man I ever remember seeing was my father.  I was not
raped, abused, or mollested, but somehow, I felt I was born into the wrong
house.

   I wanted to be pretty, and have beautifull clothes, and learn to make
them, and drink tea, and be doted on like all I'd ever seen them do.  I
wanted a husband, to work, and fight for me, to have his children, and take
care of them for him.

   My brothers, and cousins, and other playmates had toy swords, Shinai,
and played Kendo, Samurai, and Ninja.  Bright plastic guns for Gangsters,
and Cowboys, and western games like that.

   You see, there are no guns in Japan, for civilians, even ex military
can't have them.  They say the police have them, in their stations, but
don't carry them around.  Only hand weapons, and armor, so guns are a
western thing, for cowboys, or black rappers, or Mafia, or Russian
mobsters. The Yakuza don't have guns in Japan, or the sex mob.

   They have a name for it, I know this.  I do not know this name because I
am a part of it, a worker in it, not a leader, as low to them as a woman,
just a whore.

   I am free now, I owe noone nothing.  I still do this because it is what
I know, who I am, and I am good at it.  When I was little, I wanted two
things.  To wake up one day a girl, and find a good man to marry.

   Now, that I need for nothing, and don't wish to marry, I find you.  You
are a good man, and I'm glad I met you.  I love you.

   Mankon.

   Yuen Ng

   "Damn it!" I got up, and answered the pounding door.  "Just a minute," I
tried to fix my pants one handed, and hold the door while I peeked around.

   "Mr.  Lee will see you," a strong hand came arond, "Now." Sex gangsters,
no tact, sense of timing, or humor.  She helped me with my shirt, carrying
her clothes with her, didn't even try to cover herself with them.

   Sex house, she didn't have any nudity taboo, even with her tail swinging
between her legs.  At least I was dressed, and could straighten myself a
little on my way up the stairs.  Untuck my shirt the rest of the way, zip
up, brush my hair back now that it had grown out to more than bristles.

   "Here," Mink let go of my hand at the loud door on top of the stairs,
dumped her clothes in someone's arms, shook her hair straight, and followed
us in, stark naked, neatly shaved, wearing nothing but tattoos.

   "Ah," he smiled, "Menkon." I think that's what he said, but Mink bowed,
all the way to the floor.  Like a flower, her legs folded under her, then
she folded over them, hair spilling down to spread around hir head.

   He said something, Japanese.

   "Hei," her head came up, and she rose, gracefully, "Sensei." He returned
her bow at the waist with a nod, a topknot sticking up behind his head.  I
didn't get it then, but it's downright offensive for someone so obviously
foreign, a sex gangster, and pervert to wear a perfect traditional Japanese
topknot.  Which is, of course, why he did it.

   The windows flashed, and shifted colors like a hallucination behind him,
shining on his hair, and pulsing in time to the beat.  The club, below,
they were too translucent to see any more of it.  The door closed behind
me, looking back, Mink was gone, leaving me with just the men.

   All sex gangsters, the scariest I'd seen yet.  All different races of
Asians, A Korean, one of the Japanes missing a finger, the other proudly
displaying tattoos, several Chinese, and assorted other asians.  Very
large, impressively open with the furniture around the walls, but crowded.

   Across from me, he rose behind his desk.  No taller than the rest, he
was darker than any except one who looked Indian, and me.  I'd gotten a lot
of sun lately, and I was the only other Thai.  "Mr.  Lee?"

   "Yes," he bowed, showing all of his topknot, balding pate.

   "You remember me?" I caught flashes of his face, much younger, looking
down at me, my hand up, held in his.

   He looked carefully, "No," and shook his head.  "But that is no
surprise, you say it was so long ago, and I have known so many boys."

   I pulled the picture out of my pocket, "Do you remember him?" I couldn't
even look at it, had ever pixel memorised, so I just held it up.

   "Hmmm," he stepped around the desk, propped a small pair of classes on
his nose, "Yes." His thumb brushed the edge of the polaroid, "Such a nice
man." He reached up his other hand, thumb rubbing lower on the edge, "And
now I remember you."

   Then something oriental, I'm not sure what language, but it didn't sound
Japanese.  Looking around, everyone else bowed, backed through the doors,
and closed them behind them.

   Alone with him, the music sounded loud, seemed to echo in the blatently
oversized office.  "What do you want?"

   "Just tell me what you know." I relaxed, blew out my anger, and
submitted to my helplessness.  What could I do, threaten him?  I didn't
have enough money to impress him, probably couldn't beat it out of him, and
even if I did, I wouldn't make it out, would be gang raped to death, or
enslaved for the rest of my life.

   "Deal," he nodded, "I will tell you everything, whether you like it, or
not."

   "I just want the truth."

   "And I'll give it to you," he smiled, sinking back into the plush
leather of his chair like a throne.  "Tell me when I'm done if it's what
you wanted to hear."

   "Okay," I found a place to sit, and braced myself.

   "First, what do you remember?" I blinked, not expecting a question, "and
what do you already know?"

   "Why?" it felt like a trick, to know what lie to fabricate.  I couldn't
trust him, just hear what he said, and choose what to believe.

   "It will save a lot of time if I don't have to go over anything you
covered." He boredly swept his eyes over the desk, picked up a cigarette
from an ornate box, a jeweled lighter, smoked, and waited.

   "Not much," I could tell he was lying, but not what the truth was.  "I
remember my parents faces," flashes of father, and mother, "But not their
voices, them saying anything." He nodded, waved to me to go on.  "A
villiage, my home, I think, plants all around." I closed my eyes, "I
remember you, leading me by the hand, the airport, to the plane."

   "Anything else?"

   "The man you gave me to," I looked at him, "Him telling me to call him,
'Daddy'." It stuck in my throat, like I'd choke on it.

   "I told you," he spread his hands, "He was a good man."

   "Fuck you," I balled my fist, and took a step toward his desk, "He was a
fucking monster."

   He laughed, "If you think he was a monster, concider yourself lucky you
never met a real one." Oh, but I have, many.

   "He enslaved me." I growled, couldn't pull my teeth apart, "Bought me
like a fucking souvenir, and sold me to a sadistic rapist."

   "But he didn't hurt you," he corrected me, "He promised never to hurt
you, to love you."

   "Listen you sick fucking pervert," I took a few more steps.

   "Stop!" he held up a hand, reached the other to a console that looked
like it was from a seventies spy porn.  "One more step, and I will push
this button to summon an army to drag you off to a long life of rape,
torture, and humiliation."

   I stopped, even stepped back to put my feet together.  "Don't use the
word 'love' like you have any fucking idea what it means."

   "He loved you," he said without looking away, right to my eyes without a
twitch, or anything to hint that he was lying.

   "Sure," I shook images of his 'love' out of my head, and wandered back
to a seat.  "He 'love'd me until he grew bored of me, then he traded me for
a little blonde girl, and a film projector."

   "I know," he smiled, "I saw the movies."

   "That," I sat foreward, "Hurt," enunciated to make damn sure he
understood, "Me." He sat back, tapped his fingers as if unaffected, but
looked away, and couldn't bring his eyes back to mine.

   "Do you remember the streets?" he asked, "Bangkok?"

   "No," I shook my head, but couldn't clear the smell, the memory so
putrid, it seemed to cling to my nose a lifetime later.

   "Well," he laughed, "You certainly don't remember me sneaking into your
little hut in the night, or raiding your villiage to carry you off without
the women, who I can sell on any street in Bangkok.  You don't remember me
buying you from your familly around the table, or me in your villiage at
all?"

   "No." I have to admit, even now I can't.

   "Because I wasn't there!" his hand came down with a crack, like a whip,
or a pistol shot.  "I didn't leave my business to ravage the countryside, I
never had to.  There's thousands of despirate women, and hungry orphans in
every alley.  I didn't have to because you came to me, begged me to take
you in!"

   "No," even as the tears squeesed out, I knew it to be true.  The
horrible nightmares, hiding for trash, digging in it for food, wrapping in
it for warmth, or pretending it was a hug.

   "All you wanted was a father, a good one, who loved you, and never
ignored you."

   "Please no."

   "You wanted this!" he was suddenly standing over me, "I told you, the
Truth, whether you like it or not, until you can't take it any more."

   "Stahp."

   "I told you I couldn't be your father."

   "Stop,"

   "Told you I'd have to find you one that would pay to make you his son."

   "Sttopp,"

   "And you said you didn't care, would go to the ends of the world to find
him, to 'love' you."

   "I said," he jumped back, "STOPIT!" and slapped me, backhanded.  It felt
like a punch, a head bursting slug from a baseball bat.  I didn't even feel
the fall, the hard impact with the floor, just looked up at him from it,
hurting.

   They dragged me out, sobbing, and I never saw Mink again.  Unarmed in
the alley, I had my phone, brought up Navigation, sent the coordinates to
John.