Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 {This isn't inspired by any particular author, so much as based on pesonal
experiences, and also to tell the story that isn't written.  So far, to my
knowledge, and I looked.  So, the fictional story is the Pedophile's
Playbook, NAWGLA edition.

   AFAIK, there was never any such thing.  A sister organization to NAMBLA,
whom I learned about at a young age, because I wasn't a little girl.  You
don't want to read about that, so I'm going to change things around.  Hope
you don't mind.}

   ;

   I know it's wrong, which is why I always tried to avoid, well the more
stereotypical places.  To be tempted, by little girls.  I'm a pedophile,
but that doesn't mean I have to be a child molester.  I'm not one of those
NAWGLA women, who'll try to make excuses.  Tell you that it's normal,
loving, when the truth is that it's child abuse.  Always, I know that, as
well as anyone.

   Doesn't help the way I feel, so I should probably start with how I know.
I was abused, of course.  When I was little, it was something that didn't
happen, Stranger Danger was a Bad Man, and well.  A Stranger.  That's what
they told us, homosexuality was bad, and you mustn't ever show a boy your
underwear, because they can't control themselves.  So, there was that,
general environment of victim blaming, homophobia, and denial.  If you were
raped, it was your fault, for tempting him.  Fags are evil, and men hadn't
even gotten so "Enlightened" to think that lesbians were hot.  Oh yeah, and
bisexuals didn't exist, nobody wanted to be a gender other than what they
were assigned, because God didn't make mistakes.

   Back then, I'm not blaming society for what they made me do, it's just
background.  The setting that made it easier to cover it up, and hide the
fact that there are women like me, so I was defenseless.  I wasn't warned,
what to look out for, because she wasn't a man.  She was a stranger, but
she couldn't be predatory, that's a man's job.  Women and girls still
believe that to this very day.

   So, that's how I found myself giggling over pictures of naked ladies
with another girl.  An older one, and for people jaded by the Internet
today, pornography was also very different back then.  A nipple was
titillating, because obviously a child would be traumatized by the sight of
a bared nipple.  Seeing "Bush" ment it was "Euro." Pubic hair was something
the imported, for Playboy, because they couldn't publish pictures of that
here, so they bought OUI from France.  Of course, I didn't think to ask her
where she got them, but I found out, soon enough.  She was older, and at
first I was just happy to play with an older girl.

   You know, girl stuff.  With dolls, she took me home, and got out her
dolls, then she told me things I thought were "Silly."

   "Girls don't kiss eachother," I giggled, but it was funny, so I played
along.  With the dolls, and even held one for her.  To kiss with her other
doll, then she pulled up her skirt, and showed me her underpants.  I'd
never seen a doll with underpants, none of mine had them, and then she
pulled them down to show me.  They were hand made, sewn, and faces drawn on
their cloth heads.  Noses pinched together with stitches, and even a little
crease in the bottom, between their legs.

   Her doll had stuffed breasts, and nipples, colored with little dots of
pink, so she could undress them, and show me.  "They're lesbians." Which
begged the question, "That's girls that like to kiss girls." She even
showed me, where they like to kiss eachother.  I giggled, "Gross!" That's
where pee comes from!

   Her mother made them, to teach her, and to show other little girls. 
Younger girls, like me, for when she got too old.  I learned when she got
home, a single mother by the way.  Only child, they shared an apartment,
but had her own room.  Asked me what we were playing, and I blushed. 
Giggled, because it was naughty, her daughter already had me kissing her,
and even felt my legs under my skirt.  That's as far as she got.

   "Lesbians." I just covered my mouth, giggling uncontrollably.

   Then her mommy asked me if I wanted to see "The real thing." She showed
me, movies, and made me.  Well, she said play, that it was a game, she
played with little girls.  She lied, it wan't a game, and she wasn't
playing.  She didn't even have a VCR, there were such things, but she had
films, a projector and a screen she set up, in the back room.

   An apartment, they didn't have a basement, nor attic, they had a room in
the back of the apartment, without any windows.  A dark room, where we
could watch movies, and she could develop the pictures she took of us.

   So yeah, that's how I know it's wrong.  Even if she didn't make a living
selling pictures of us.  Her daughter, other girls playing sex, and
dressing up to order.  Even if she hadn't invited men over to watch, and
molest us for money.  I'm sorry, this is.  Too much, I have to take a
break, but I have to say first that even if she hadn't done all that, she
still broke my heart.

   She still made me feel ugly, as ugly as she made me feel pretty, when
she started.  When I was young enough to be attractive, then I got too old
and she threw me away like a piece of trash.  She said she loved me, just
to get in my pants, and taught her daughter to find me.  Girls like me,
just her type, and said she loved me.  She lied, and said she cared for me,
even told me I could stay and she'd be my mommy.  She didn't, love me at
all.  She didn't care about me, she just said what she could to make me do
what she wanted.

   A sex slave, her little whore.  Then she throw me out like a warn out
doll when I got too old.  That's where I learned about NAWGLA, and that
it's a lie.  It's not about love at all, it's how to abuse little girls,
and get away with it.  You have heard of NAMBLA?

   Yeah, well that's how they got away with it.

   ;

   The song wasn't playing, on the radio, but I remember thinking about it.
For one thing, it was the early 80s, not the 60s, and the AM stations
played Country instead of Oldies, but I'd heard it.

   "Big girls don't cry." I didn't even know who it was.  (Frankie Valli
and the 4 Seasons.)

   I just wiped my eyes, and said "Yeah we do."

   And there she was, a little girl.  "What's wrong?" She asked,
innocently. I hadn't even started to avoid the stereotypical places yet,
nor could I.  I was still in school, fourth grade, but of course there were
younger girls there too.

   So, I told her.  I was "Lonely," and I had "A friend." Who went away,
and left me alone.

   She said that was "Sad," and hugged me, and I asked her if she wanted to
play after school.

   Of course she did, I was a "Big Girl," and I didn't lie to her.  I was
feeling lonely, and she did make me feel better, but here's where I have to
tell you the truth:

   Men can control themselves.  I suppose that's a big part of it for them,
they certainly enjoy having all the power, and controlling us, but they
just like to blame the victims.  Well, let me tell you it's not your fault.
Even if you come onto him, no matter what you wore, even if you had sex
before, that doesn't make you a slut.  That's no excuse for taking
advantage of them.  There is no excuse, and it's not your fault.

   Girls?  I wish I could tell you that I didn't know better, but I won't.
I had learned, been taught, what to say.  I even went over it in my head,
in class when I was supposed to be paying attention to my teacher.  I
planned it, so I can't say that I didn't know what I was doing.  that would
be a lie, and even if it wasn't, I would have known it was wrong.  I was
lonely too, but that's no excuse either.  I made a choice, and I planned to
molest her when I got home.

   That's exactly what I did.  I didn't have any pictures of naked ladies,
but I had the Penny's catalog.  Mom bought bras from them, and I even knew
what dad did, taking them in the bathroom to look at the models.  She
caught him, and sent me to my room, but yelled so loud I could hear it. 
She was jealous.

   Then she told me I mustn't touch myself.  Not right then, she kicked dad
out, and he spent the night on the couch.  She cried herself to sleep in
bed, and later she told me about, stuff.  Not sex, oh no, but I was 9, and
I bled.  So, she told me other stuff, what was going to happen.  How I was
start growing up, and feeling gross once a month.  I started getting itchy,
and hairy, and achey in my chest.  Especially my nipples, so when I got her
home, I showed her.

   I won't use her name, the little girl from school.  First I got a bra,
from mom's drawers when she wasn't looking, then I showed her.  She'd seen
one, but she'd never seen breasts before.  So, we played dressup, and when
I was sure we wouldn't be interrupted, I got out the special doll.  Mom was
cooking dinner, dad wasn't home from work yet, and my brothers always made
a lot of noise when they got back from where ever they were playing.  I
don't know, baseball, it was probably baseball, or just hitting trees with
their bats, because they did that a lot.  Boy stuff.  I wouldn't want to
play even if they wanted to play with a girl.

   "Saffy." I showed her the doll first.  I hid her, because "She's a
special doll." Anatomically correct, and "She's a lesbian."

   "What's that?" That's how we did it back then, took advantage of
ignorance, and in retrospect I suppose that's what it was about for me.  I
can't speak for all of us, I never even met another pedorast, besides the
one that taught me, but they don't know anything.  So, I have to teach her,
show her, I don't even care so much about touching her, and getting her
naked as exposing her.

   First to Saffy, so named because of her yellow hair.  Dyed with Saffron,
which is incredibly expensive to this day, but "Nothing's too good for my
favorite little girl!"

   Huh!  Sorry, I'm getting side-tracked.  And ahead of myself, but I went
through the list in order.  Just like she taught me, and I don't mind
telling you this, because it won't work any more.  Girls these days, are
more savy.  Even the good girls, with conservative parents like mine tell
their daughters about lesbians.  That it's evil, but at least it doesn't
leave them vulnerable to predatory women.

   I'm not a lesbian, of course.  I'm a pedophile.  She was just my first
victim.

   So first, we talked to them.  Found out what they're interested in, all
the better to take advantage of.  I can't call her nothing at all, so I'll
call her Vicky, for my first victim.  Adjust the list based on what she's
most interested in, in Vickie's case:

   1 Breasts.

   I didn't have any yet, not really much more than a little bump under
each swollen nipple, but it was about growth, 2 particular growths she
didn't have, and was curious about.  So, I snuck a bra out of mommy's room
while she was buy in the kitchen, and showed her.

   She knew what a bra was, of course.  She just didn't get to play with
her mom's at home, which led naturally to the next step.

   2 Secrets.

   As soon you can work it in, but it really helps to get them to do
something naughty.  She wasn't supposed to play with bras, so she wouldn't
tell her mother what she did with me.  That's how you get caught.

   So, I got out Saffy, because "I have a doll, with one." I got her out,
from way under my bed.  All the way in the back corner, an old shoebox, so
mommy wouldn't find it, if she came in to straighten up.  Not that she
spied on me, or went through my stuff, but you know I sometimes kicked
dirty clothes under there.  So, she had to pull them out, and run them with
the laundry, and she could find it that way.

   So, I really had to wiggle under there, and back out, pulling the box
with me, and I showed her.  She was naked, but I grabbed her underwear
right away, and showed her how to put it on.  Just 1 hook, for the little
metal loop, but just like mommy's, with 3 rows of them.  To loosen it, when
they got bigger, or her chest swelled with water weight.

   3 Nudity.

   "I'm getting them too." I untucked my shirt, "You wanna see?" She
smiled, and put Saffy down.  In her lap, sitting cross legged on the floor,
with her skirt stretched over her thighs, and her underpants, but I
controlled myself.  I noticed, thought about what she had under her skirt,
and even how Saffy's head was this close, but one thing at a time.  "See?"
I held up my camisole.

   She looked so cute, with her big wide eyes, and her mouth hanging open.
Then she dropped Saffy, and covered her mouth.  Giggled, but didn't say
anything.  "Huh!" I felt so hot, not for the first time.  This wasn't my
first time, but it was kind of fresh and new to me, too.  I suppose it
helped that it was her first time, and I was the first girl she saw
topless. My nipples swolled even more just from her staring, so I could
feel them thump with my excited heartbeat.

   Then mom called us for dinner, so I let down my camisole, and got up to
tuck in my shirt.  That was it, we went to wash our hands, and ate dinner.
Mommy took her home right after that, and I went in my room, but I left
Saffy out.  That reminded me, I really forgot about it all through supper.
I'm sure you want to read about sex sex sex all the time, but that's not
how this works.  You have to groom them first, and this is how.  It takes
time, but once I had her back in her box, with all her sexy clothes, and
kicked back under the bed, I got naked, and turned off the light.

   Imagining her, watching, and remembered the expression of abject wonder
on her face when I exposed myself to her.  On top of the covers, naked, I
felt myself all over, and thought about what I could say to her.  How to
talk her into getting a little more daring.  Next time, 'you want to touch
them.' Whispered to myself, but imagining her little pipsqueek voice.

   'nhm!' excited, then her young curious hands.  Feeling the little bumps
on my chest, and the hot lumps on top.  My heart beating out of control, so
they pulse, and swell with my breath.  "Hihhhh!" Suck the air all the way
in, so my ribs stretch out like a barrel, and they feel even bigger.

   I'm a big girl now, and little girls like big girls.  It's a big honor,
just to play with one, I remember when I got to.  Go over to her house, to
look at pictures of naked ladies, and play with her naughty dolls.

   "Hhhew!"

   Like it was just yesterday, but I didn't feel like a kid again.  I was a
big girl, just starting to appreciate it.  My first glimpse at what it must
feel like to be the Woman.

   I didn't get off on it, I fell asleep like that, and dreamed of growing
up.  Being the woman, and having a little girl of my own.  Then I got cold,
and woke up.  Got under the covers, naked, and warmed up.  Got hot, and
hotter.  Touching myself, only imagining it was her.  Vicky, and it didn't
have any hair on it.  I bet she didn't have any, because she's little, and
young, and curious.

   "HAHN!" I had to turn over, with my face in the pillow, so I din't moan
too loud, but that's how I got off on it.

   Imagining Vicky, and how I'd molest her.

   I knew it was wrong.

   That's what I got off on.

   ;

   So anyway, the next step was touching.  My breasts, and the next day at
school I thought of how to do that.  I told her what they're for, on lunch,
I finished up mine quick to go play on the playground, and found her on the
swings.

   I took my milk, and I don't remember the exact words, just that she
didn't believe me at first.  "What did you think they're for?"

   "I don't know, so you can tell she's a girl?"

   "Hihihn!  Yeah, well we're mammals."

   "What's that?"

   "It means we drink milk," I shook it up, "Like cows, and dogs, and cats,
and monkeys, and everything with hair." Pulled mine out, or a lock of it,
to show her.  "If we have hair, we're mammals, that's why we have nipples,
to feed children."

   She frowned, "That sounds like Evolution." Oh yeah, and did I mention
Christian school?  No uniform, and it wasn't like Sunday school every day,
but we didn't get dressed up for church.  There was a Chappel at school,
and Sunday school was when we had church, on Sundays, and learned about
Adam and Eve.  Protestant, Lutheran, our church used to be First Lutheran
until they built a cathedral across the street, now it was Saint Martin's
Academy.  There was a copy of the Ninety 5 Theses on the front doors,
engraved like scrolls, right down to the nails.

   "Okay, then God made us like that, it's still what nipples are for,
haven't you ever fed a babydoll?"

   "With a bottle."

   "Full of milk." I nodded back, "With a nipple on the end.  That's why we
give them pacifiers."

   "Oh," so that was enough playing Teacher, but I still had the milk, and
the nipples, so after that we went in the girl's room to play Mommy until
the bell rang.  It was cold, the milk dribbling on, so they stuck out hard
right away, then her tongue felt hot, and her lips suckling, and my nipples
were so sensitive, but I knew that.

   Playing with them last night, thinking about her sucking on them, like
this and how I could get her to do that.

   "Mh!" she let it slip out, and licked her lips.  So, I dribbled a little
more on the other side, and she caught it with her tongue before she
started sucking that one too.  And it feels so good, so much better than
touching them with my fingers, and pinching them to feel them get hard, and
turning them like knobs on a radio, and pulling one out so it slips between
my fingers, and snaps back to pop flat on my chest while she sucks the
other one.

   "Mh!" She grinned, so I dribbled more on that one, and pinched the wet
one to let it slip in her spit until it dried, and I could pull it out, and
let it slip, and snap back.  "Mh!" She bit my lip, watching dribble a
little more, and went back and forth like that until the bell rang, and we
had to get back to class.

   That's when I decided she was ready.  To tell her about lesbians, and
what they do.  Not just kiss eachother, but where, and how.  To kiss me
between my legs, because it's like my nipples.  It feels good enough to
touch it, and lick my fingers to get them wet, and slip them back and forth
through there, but it's not the same.  As a mouth, a little girl's mouth.
Not just any little girl, but Vicky, a cute little second grader, and.

   "HhHhH!" I looked around in class.  Bit my lip, and held my breath. 
Pilled my hand out of my undies when nobody was looking, and fixed them
under my skirt.

   Thank god, nobody noticed.  So, I just put my head down, and pretended
to nap, until the last of my orgasm went away.

   ;

   Hystery

   She taught us, more than just sex, but also the stories of where it
began, and how it was passed down, in secret.  Word of mouth, see there's
His.  Story that we learn in church, and class, and all the books.  Gods,
and the bibles, but very early on the Goddess hid, to protect our secrets
from the men.  From mother to daughter, which is why we called her Mommy,
just like you call the priest Father.

   Where she learned it, she was raised Catholic, and even went to school
in a convent.  She even had her old habit, and put it on, to play naughty
schoolgirl, for men who wanted to see that.  In pictures, our uniforms
coming off, then catching us, but it was all part of the story.  His story,
what he wanted to see badly enough to pay good money for it.

   Like NAWGLA, nobody ever heard of it, ling after NAMBLA got shut down,
because we don't want to you.  Honestly the myth that men are predatory,
and girls victims is as much our fault as His, that's how the secret is
kept, for millenia.  Going all the way back to Greece.  Old Wive's Tales,
the men came to the tower, and donated to the Oracles, so they told Him
what he wanted to hear.  Promised him victory in battle, and that's how
they supported it.

   Mystras, then he went back to Sparta, gathered up the men, and marched
off to battle, it didn't even matter if it came true.  Either the King won,
and gave thanks to Athena for Her blessing, or they lost, to a man, and
none of the 300 Hoplites lived to tell the tale that she lied.  The
important part is they left, us all alone, and to this day the tale is told
of their bravery.  The men, standing up to the Persian fleet, and holding
them back, until the rest of the Hopplites could come down from Ahens, and
drive them from the shores of Morea.

   You've heard this one?  Yeah, well what you didn't hear was what
happened back at the Temples.  The Virgins, who never felt the touch of a
man, to remain pure, and in tune with Athena?  Yeah, right.  The island of
Lesbos was ruled by a witch too, she turned men into pigs, and dogs, so
only the bravest would risk going there, even if they got past the perils
of the Sirens, and the dangerous Straights to get there in the first place.

   Old wive's tales.  Circe's, she also read us poetry from Sapphos, of
course Saffy isn't named after Saffron.  The point is the men took credit,
sun songs of their Bravery, then Jesus came and made it about God.  The 1
True God, who would never share the Earth with a Goddess.  Then other men
came Saul took the Word to Rome, where it was cpoied in Latin, and sent
letters to all the other churches, and so on, and so forth.

   I read it, again.  Only this time I looked for what it says about women.
Nothing, actually.  Not a damned thing, because there was already a spy in
their midst.  Not even Her name, the high Preistess, only where she came
from.

   Mystras, the temple of Athena, outside of Sparta.  This got
mistranslated as Mary after King Jame's cousin, Mary Queen of Scotts, and
Magdalena is greek for Of The Tower.  There was a tower, for the Oracle, to
be closer to Athena.  Well, actually so she could see over the mountains,
toward Athens, and they had some sort of singnals lost to the ages, but
it's a Secret.  That's why there's not a damned thing about women laying
with women, touching themselves, nor even kissing in there, because Men
made it about Men.  We just didn't stop them.

   As with the Persians, the Lions took Pride in having so many wives. 
While a Sultan, or Amir could impregnate all of them, and gain power
through the tribes of his children, even Irahim himself could't please
them. Satisfy, all of them, nor even his favorite at the time.  Before
long, he didn't even have to try, because the wives took care of eachother.
In the harem, where no man could go.  Not even the Sultan, the Amir, nor
his sons.

   They could leave, his wives had the run of the palace, covered up
modestly under the eyes of Allah, but they fed his sons, and came back to
the Haram.  He could send a servant, a handmaden for one of them, even many
to warm his bed when the sun went down, and the dry ir got cold, but that
is where the secrets of sex were kept.  The sultan bragged about how many
women loved him, and gave him sons, while they closed the doors, drew slik
across the windows, and kept the daughters.  Alone, to teach them the
secret rites of Pleasure.

   It wasn't until recently, I even saw a movie with a decent analogy, to
explain it to men: Captain America: The Winter Soldier.  Fitting that
Natasha was the one to awaken the voice from out of the past, the Ancient
Oracle to reveal it all before betraying them.

   "Shall we play a game?"

   "I get that referrence."

   Do you?  Hydra grew, "A beautiful parasite" within SHIELD, from the very
beginning.

   As it was with the Church.  Long after Men stopped singing of the brave
sacrifice of the 300 Spartans.  Long before they made a comic book, then a
movie about it, long before the first Mother Superior had her name changed
to "From the Tower of Mystras."

   The mystery.  That's where it comes from.  Mystras, where the Secret was
first kept.  Where Jesus got it, kneeling in the dirt, to was her feet. 
The "Prostitute."

   The Preistess.

   Of course, they never called her that.

   ;

   "Mh?" Wipe my mouth, then the drool soaking my sleeve through the puddle
spreading across my desk.

   "Nap time's over." She patted my shoulder.  "Time to go home."

   My classmates were already on the playground, so I grabbed my books, and
looked around.

   "There," she is.

   Schools out, so now the real lessons could begin.

   ;

   "Myth Thera?"

   "Yes 'Tori."

   "Can I go to the bathroom?"

   "Of course." She gave me a pass, but I felt the gap in front, between my
teeth, and the hole where the last one came out.  Instead of "uthe" the
bathroom, but there was already a chip poking down where the first one
pushed out.

   Like teething, all over again, I'd get them back long before Christmass,
I giggle, and hummed "All I want for Crithmyth..."

   I like the way it feels, and here, I miss her.  Corey, but she had to go
to middle school, which left me here, in stupid old Christian Acadamy.

   She told me, everything.  The truth about our lady Mystras of the Tower.
What they don't tell you in Sunday school, but I remember the first thing.
I learned, what nipples were for.

   "Hhhhhh!" Felt down, the warmth spreading, and soaking between my
fingers.  The one in the middle, splitting it for the others to pinch them
around it, and the hot trickle to back up.  My fingertip pushing it open
for it to wet inside me.  "HhHhH!"

   The white drops, rolling down to the pink bulge of her teat.  "Lmh!"
Licking it up, and sucking it in, pinching the hard tip, and tasting the
milky goodness from it.

   We're mammals.  Tells you how ignorant I was raised, not to learn that
before 3rd grade.  It's silly, lying to us about that, as if a child would
be traumatized by the mere sight of a nipple, much less the forbidden
knowledge of what they're really for.

   "Huh!" Feeding children.  Do you believe that?  Just like we have body
hair, or I will, some day.  I'm not talking the little whisps on my arms,
so tiny and light you have to look close to see them, but a big fat bush of
pubes, like Corey's.  See?  I had sex, with another girl, and it din't make
me a pervert.

   "Hihihn!" Okay, I'm fingering myself with my pee, and that's, really
dirty.  "Heah!" Beyond just naughty, downright filthy, why if Mrs.  Sarah
had any idea what I was doing in here, "HhuhHhH!"

   Swallow, and just feel it.  The mound of my clitoris mons, twitching in
my palm in time with the twitches of my hymen against my piss drenched
fingertip.

   "Huh!" It's not that bad.  "Smpuip!" A little tangy, but just a little
piss.  "Hihihn!" I better wipe good, before I pull my underpants up, so
nobody will smell it, but.

   "There," I don't miss her as much any more.

   ;