Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Really, it had all started as an experiment.  I was tooling around the
internet one day and had found plans for an item the creator was calling a
'Pirate Box'.  Being the kind of guy who wanted to play with his toys, out
had come the soldering iron, and before long I had mocked up my own little
file sharing box, inconspicuously jammed into a larger water tight
container I happened to have around.  I was not sure what I would do with
it at first, but in the end I decided to hook it up at a minor transit
relay a couple of blocks from my apartment building.

   I can't even recall what I put on it at first.  I think it was a few
random things I had trolled off the net.  A few wiki-leaks cables.  The
handbook for cyber dissidents, and for the hell of it a collection of
national geographic photos.  You know the ones.  The kind that would get
you in a ton of trouble if you kept them lying around your apartment.  The
ones of the indigenous tribes in their standard garb - which is to say
nothing at all.

   I admit, I had done my bit of internet trolling in the early days of the
net.  I had seen photos and the like I sometimes wish I could un-see.  I
was never a fan of children in pain, and the very thought of someone
hurting on would make my blood boil.  I was not a violent man, but come
face to face with some of these individuals and there would be one less
mouth to feed in the world.  Hell, leaving them staked out for the world to
see might even make a few people think otherwise about being a paedophile.

   But I also had a confession to make.  In some small manner....  no lets
be honest.  It was no small thing.  Some of those files really excited me.
Not those of the younger children.  Those who should be clutching dolls and
not dicks.  Rather, I found myself trending towards those on the cusp and
locked in the throes of adolescence.  With the net so new and unprotected,
it was easy to find those photos and videos, and myself being so young at
the time, I fear I damaged my immortal soul beyond repair in those days. 
It is not to say that I ever touched anyone under the age of 19, but if
thoughts were deeds I was guilty as the most unrepentant rapist out there.

   As I grew older, anything I had collected from those days was destroyed.
My conscious mind unable to deal with the fears of being caught with those
materials in hand.  I kept myself restricted to the occasional foray into
text stories.  When national geographic came out with their collected
works, I was quick to pounce, for here was something to satisfy my visual
fetish without being too untoward if seen by the rare lady visitor to my
abode.

   So when the time came to play with my new file sharing tool, perhaps it
was the masochist in me that incorporated those files into the server.  I
honestly did not expect anything to come of it, but by being that ever so
slightly naughty I felt younger then I had for years.  Placing the box was
somewhat difficult I must admit.  Despite my efforts to keep everything
small and power-conserving, battery power would just not last very long. 
At best a day or two of constant use and I would have to change it out.  As
I did not know what to expect to be dumped onto it's internal drive, I was
somewhat worried about this.  Even the most out of the way place could be
found by someone looking hard enough for the box, and while it cost me less
then a hundred dollars to put it together, I was quite fond of my little
creation.

   The first trial was a moderate success.  When I picked up the box again
after a few days I found that some files had been placed onto it.  More of
the prankster type then anything else.  I found a couple of voice files of
nothing but swear words in a string, and one of two blurry photos of what I
could only assume were the asses of teenagers making their own statement
about the state of affairs.  However there was one thing that stood out to
me.  One photo and one only of a girl about 12 years.  Her brown mousy hair
framed a somewhat plain face and eyes of a pale green were almost not
visible behind the flash of what I can only imagine was her cell phone
camera.  Only her head and shoulders were visible, and there was a impish
grin on her face as she stuck out her tongue.  Next to her head was held an
open national geographic, where a boy was undergoing a circumcision ritual.

   This brought a grin to my own face as I took in the photo.  Someone with
a sense of humour and whimsy as I took it.  I did not think much else of
the photo beyond that.

   Over the next few days I tinkered with the unit, my mind occasionally
flashing back to that photo.  As I did so, I do admit I found myself with
my hand down my trousers on more then one instance.  I felt quite guilty
about that, but I knew that not a person would ever know about that
indiscretion.  But dear reader....  I found myself falling into the sin of
pride.  I knew my device worked, and with as few changes, I might be able
to leave it in place.

   Placing the solar panels on the roof of a building nearby was a tricky
proposition.  They did not need to be very big, but I had to keep them not
only concealed from below, but also out of the prying hands of vandals who
would no doubt find access to the roof in the same manner I did.  The
graffiti tags dotting the transit line side of the building showed this
fact to be true.  I did at last manage to place them in an almost
inaccessible spot, tucked behind some machinery for the building below,
where an overhang would keep the box out of the worst of the weather.

   It was the sin of lust that made me chose one of the files I left on the
server this time.  A body of myself nude, my erection slowly dissipating as
semen covered my belly and chest, and clutched in my hand, a printout of
the angel who's face I had just despoiled.  My own face was not visible,
having left the photo cut off at the neck.  I was not stupid after all.

   I could not bring myself to go anywhere near the station for a week
afterwards.  Every time I even glanced in that direction I felt shame and
regret.  Why oh why had I done that....

   Why?  God tell me why you had let me be so flawed?

   In the end however I had crept into a coffee shop around the corner from
the site.  I knew I should be in range of the device, and quietly accessed
it from my laptop.  In reality my intentions were to delete that file, and
quietly go back to letting the experiment play itself out as I had
intended. I synced to my device and pulled up the file list, quietly tucked
into my corner booth, screen turned away from all those who might over-see.

   What I did not find was my file.  It was gone, no doubt deleted by one
of the other users who had seen and synced up to the server in the days
since I had placed it out.  What I found was something named similar.  But
it was not an image, nor text or video.  Rather it was an archive file.

   Unsure of what to expect I pulled it onto the computer, logged out, and
tried to enjoy my coffee in peace, mind racing.

   Was I discovered?  Was it a virus?  What was it?  Who had placed it
there?

   It was all I could do to stay in my chair and not bolt back to my
apartment to check out the file further.  Calm.  I had to stay calm.  In
the end I had myself stay at the coffee house for a half hour longer,
trying to look bored and toying with the remains of a second cup that I had
purchased.  It was perhaps the quickest I had covered covered the distance
to my apartment, and I took the stairs up in sets of three as I climbed
them.  My laptop was out of it's bag almost as soon as I had the door
closed and locked behind me, and almost as swiftly I had my internet
disabled, fearful of what it could be.  Perhaps some sort of tracking
program, my paranoia screamed.  Perhaps not, my loins insisted.

   When I went to open the file, I cursed aloud.  It asked for a password.
A PASSWORD!  It was all I could do to keep from dashing the computer to the
ground, and I strode into the other room, determined to ignore the device
until my mind had settled.

   It was almost an hour, one hot bath, and two drinks later that I finally
found myself composed enough to tackle this latest problem.  I fooled
around for a few minutes, typing nonsense into the dialogue box until my
head cleared, and the light dawned.

   A few key stroked later, and a small directory of image files appeared
on my desktop.  With bated breath, I dared click on the first.

   . .. ... ....

   As the image came up I found myself instantly erect.  For the photos
content was that of my wildest dreams.  There was whom I could only assume
was my angel.  Her face was hidden behind swept forward hair, but it's
colour and the hint of glasses told the tale to me.  What caused my
hardness was not her face however, but those twin swellings of perfection
that were visible on her chest.  Her nipples had clearly begun to stick out
from the first swellings of fat beneath them, and were from all looks of it
rock hard.

   I found myself dropping one hand to my crotch, quietly unzipping and
grasping myself even as my other hand went to pull up the next photo.

   There the image had shifted down, to reveal the smooth whiteness of her
belly and the slight protrusion of her belly button.  Below this, a swath
of pink fabric was teased.  By this time I could make out the rumpled
sheets of her bed, and what looked to be a copy of the image I had posted,
folded creases from where it no doubt had been tucked away somewhere
secretive.

   My hand was moving of it's own accord even as I brought up the next
image.  This was of two legs, lanky and thin, soft stretch marks indicating
that rapid growth was occurring.  However what drew my eyes was the vision
of pink that shrouded her treasures while at the same time revealing some.
I could pick out the folded swelling of lips, and a deep wet stain where
her most hidden place lay.

   The last photo was not of her at all, but a close up of my own picture,
printed out and much rumpled and creased by no doubt being hidden within
this angel's room.  However what clearly showed was the print of lips over
my receding cock, picked out in a soft pink lip gloss, no doubt heavily
applied for this purpose.

   At this last I exploded, and shot all over my hand, trying to keep from
dirtying the floor among other things.  I knew at this point, I would have
to come up with some way to keep these photos, and even more, a way to earn
more.



   Children have the right to remain children.  Anyone violating that right
forfeits their own right to intact kneecaps and other health related
issues. The coyotes and cougars love a target unable to run away, and pain
should always follow pain.