Author: Sterling Title: Good Morning, Hannah! Summary: It's a modern-day Sleeping Beauty, except there are a lot of princesses and a kiss isn't quite enough. And, well, they're kind of young princesses. Keywords: Mf Mg gi cons pedo reluc het ESP paranormal group 1st oral slow caution NOTICE: This story contains explicit sex. First posted 11/12/2009, new header added 8/24/2010. I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com. I have written many other stories and they can all be found at /files/Authors/Sterling/ You are welcome to copy this story if you include the entire text unchanged, including this notice. If you tell me where you have re-posted it, I can enjoy knowing it is appreciated and perhaps enjoy the feedback the story gets where you re-post it. Sterling And now, our feature presentation. Enjoy! ================================================================== Good Morning, Hannah! Comas are of many different kinds. Connor's coma has distinctive brain states (too technical to go into here), but it has two notable properties entirely accessible to the layman: the patients look quite healthy, just as if they are asleep; and they never get better, dying within a year. An intriguing treatment idea involved capturing the pleasure states of a healthy person from the brain structures where they were experienced and transmitting them to the same structures in the patient. The treatment concept involved implanting electrodes in the patient's septum pellucidum, limbic system and related areas and attaching them to a radio receiver and amplifier. Electrodes implanted in the same areas in the transmitting person's brain would capture activity there and broadcast it to the patient. It was apparent to all that the treatment would use the most intense pleasure state we experience: orgasm. Experiments with animals were promising. Connor's coma strikes all ages, but the treatment would only be suitable for children. Adult brains have limited plasticity, but children's brains are much more resilient and open to change. The idea for this treatment had been around for a few years. It was risky for the patient, but then the patient was under a death sentence and a risky treatment was acceptable. The problem was that it also looked to be very risky for the transmitter, the most likely "side effects" being death and extreme emotional disturbances. As someone involved in the research, I thought about the treatment from time to time. Would I consider becoming a transmitter? I was in my 50s, with no family and with no great enthusiasm for my future. It was so sad, looking at these children who had their whole lives before them but would never get to experience them. Everything they needed including brain function was right there, if only someone could wake them up. I felt something else, when I stood looking at some of the girls, a sort of romantic attraction. My relationships with adult women had been OK at times, but there was something missing. I had gradually realized that my stronger sexual attraction was to girls -- pre-pubescent girls. I had mostly put it out of my mind, resigned to the reality that my yearnings would remain forever unsatisfied. I was entirely clear that I would never approach a girl just for my own sexual satisfaction. Even if the huge moral problem was magically circumvented, I knew my own sexual arousal would vanish knowing the trauma the girl would experience. But these girls were doomed. They were also unconscious. Sex with a child carries an enormous stigma, and sex with an unconscious child would be far worse. In terms of actual harm, though, if the girl were not conscious she would be spared some of the trauma. I wondered how I would feel about sex with an unconscious girl. As I sat beside some of them in the hospital, I occasionally snuck a peek below the sheet, even inside their johnnies, and decided I would enjoy it very much. Maybe I was sick. But that was the way I was, and if satisfying my inclinations could save lives, then it would be worth it. There are folk tales where an obnoxious member of the village is shunned until his offending characteristics are needed to save them all from harm. If I went through the surgery to become a transmitter and I lived, I would offer parents hope: let me have sex with your daughter and it might save her life. Take it or leave it. No boys would be offered the treatment, nor girls that I did not find attractive. There were in any case far more attractive girls with Connor's than I could save. If I could have sex with girls -- a great many, if the treatment worked -- it would give a vibrancy to my life that had been missing for years. Of course there were the dangers to consider. I reasoned that life is short anyway, and a shorter life having satisfied my deepest longings would be worth it. Dying while trying to save children's lives is certainly noble. I came out about my pedophilic inclinations to a few trusted colleagues and explained my plan. They had to get over the shock of what I was proposing, but when they considered the choice the parents faced, they agreed it might work. There was nothing in the treatment that required that my orgasm be with the child rather than some other partner right nearby. But I was only going to take the extreme risk if I could have sex with the child. Someone mentioned that maybe matching peripheral stimulation of the child's own sex organs with the brain input would increase the effectiveness of the treatment. I doubted it would make much difference, and I suspected the others felt that way as well, but we all saw the advantages of assuming it was true and not testing the hypothesis. There was no need to advertise to parents the selfish aspect of my offer. Neither my highly risky surgery nor sexual activity with young girls could take place in the US. So we set up shop in Columbia in a manner allowing the government to deny knowledge of our existence. I had the surgery. Nothing bad happened to me. I was over the first hurdle. Although Connor's coma is rare, there were still unfortunately dozens of children from the US alone to choose from every month. I made a list of the ones I found most attractive based on pre-coma photographs. Sarah was the first. Her parents were revolted at the idea of letting a man have sexual relations with their comatose daughter, as any parents would be. They refused to consider the idea. Kate was the second. Her parents had the same initial reactions, but they worked through their feelings. She had nothing to lose except perhaps her dignity, and they felt a chance at life was worth it. ------------------ My first job was stretching Kate's vagina so it would accommodate a man's penis. We had a cream designed to waken, enlarge and stretch her vagina over the course of several days. It contained estrogen and a skin-relaxing agent among other ingredients. I injected some into her with a plunger and rubbed it into her vaginal walls with my little finger. I repeated each day, and soon two fingers fit inside her, then three, then four. It was time. Nine-year-old Kate had lovely shoulder length blond hair and a very pretty face. I knew her eyes were blue, though they were closed of course, since she wasn't awake. Her slim child's body with perfect skin lay before me. She was wearing a robe of pink silk, open just enough to reveal the sleepy nipples of her flat chest. I rubbed my hands over her front slowly, pausing and curving around the nipples as if they had gravity. I slid the robe aside to reveal her lower parts, and with leisurely circles brushed my hand down her stomach, hip, thigh, jumped to the other thigh, slid up towards where her thighs met but veered upward to her hip again, running slow circles about the center of my attention. The circles got smaller, and soon my hand was on her smooth girl's labia. I stroked them gently with my hand. Beautiful, but dry. I took a little lubricant and started rubbing it slowly up and down on her lips and they started glistening. I worked my fingers gradually inside between her lips, parting easily with some friendly lubricant. I rubbed very lightly over her demure clitoris, and then did more circles with my fingers, from clitoris around vaginal opening and back. I began working my little finger into her, adding lubricant as I went. I moved over to kneel above her naked, and now I caressed the inside of one thigh, moving my fingers from her knee up, slowing as I reached the glistening labia and reversed direction, and then gently pushed the thigh out to the side. I did the same with the other, and then I paused to take in the sight. Kate was lying on her back, chest partly covered with the pink silk, legs spread wide, and the glistening labia were as exposed and welcoming as they could be. My erection was very hard, and I lowered myself slowly down onto her. Holding her slippery labia apart with one hand, I gently placed the tip of my penis between her inner lips and pushed in a little. This was the moment I had been dreaming of all these months, the culmination of so much risk and effort. The flesh parted to take in my tip. It was a tight fit, but there was no trauma to her tender parts. Gradually I worked my penis back and forth, going in a tenth of an inch more on each stroke. It was thrilling to feel my whole tip get past her ring of muscles, and I kept working gently in. She was as warm and wet inside as any woman, and my penis slid smoothly. Finally it was in maybe four inches, and I felt substantial resistance and decided to work in no farther. Four inches was a generous welcome from a girl her age. I started back and forth slowly just a fraction of an inch, which felt magnificent. I gradually lengthened my strokes, and was excited to see my shaft buried between her legs, pumping slowly in and out, her tissues stretched to accommodate me, but not too far. Her girl parts were glistening, but hairless and innocent. My tip stayed out of sight; it had private business with her innards. My strokes got faster. I felt my orgasm building, and slowed down to head it off a couple times, but finally started thrusting with abandon. My whole body convulsed in orgasm as my body shot semen up inside of her. It felt spectacular, a dream come true. Just then she stirred and opened her eyes, and another level of joy followed my fading orgasm. She was conscious for the first time in six months! She looked at me sleepily, confused. I let my weight down on her, partly to one side so she could breath, and held her. Although she was too dopey to feel anything too strongly, confusion was giving way to distress. I imagined she could feel my penis stretching her innards, a full invasion of her vagina, an organ she had previously thought of as tiny and insignificant when she thought about it at all. She had never seen me before. Catching my breath, I said "Uh... I know this seems very weird, but, um... you have been in a coma for six months and this..." I motioned vaguely downward to where our bodies were joined, "This was the only way we had to save your life." She stayed conscious for half an hour, then she fell deeply asleep again, and two hours later we could not wake her. We feared she was headed back to the coma, so I caressed and fondled her in the same ways, though a little faster because this time I knew the way. I mated with her again, pressing my penis inside as far as it would go, pulsing more sperm into her immature depths. More importantly, I experienced a powerful orgasm. That woke her up again. It not only woke her up, she woke with a dreamy expression and a shudder and smiled at me. Her brain activity stabilized through that evening and night. My job was finished, and Kate started her more conventional recovery. Over the next couple days she started eating well, sitting up, and walking. As we had hoped, my extreme pleasure had woken her up. Now that she was awake the plan was to send her home, cured. It was safer to leave the electrodes in place than try to remove them. Back at home she was to receive counseling to help her get over the trauma of my having had sex with her. Considered from many angles it was rape because of her age and because no unconscious person of any age can consent to sex. We all hoped that she would recover and lead a decent life compared to the alternative of no life at all. But then Kate started getting depressed and listless, and I came in to see her. I felt a surge of lust as soon as I saw her, and I froze near the door. She was of course much prettier and sexier now that she was conscious. She was slouched in an armchair, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. When she saw me she smiled a little, then slowly sat up. She stared at me in a peculiar and intense way, then walked towards me and stood in front of me. Then she took my right hand in hers, looked it over and stroked it a little, turned it over and back again, and as she stared at me slowly moved it down and placed it between her legs, palm up against the crotch of her shorts. She looked confused but also excited -- sentiments I shared. Perhaps Kate sensed my growing excitement as she moved my hand lower, and following those mental contour lines she had guided my hand to a spot I found very alluring. But it seemed likely that more than just my pleasure was getting transmitted to her. I had made love to Kate's gorgeous body with the goal of saving her life. Now her life was no longer in danger but she was encouraging me to be sexual with her. She looked shy and still confused, but she started rubbing my hand back and forth between her legs. With some difficulty I marshaled some semblance of professional detachment and slowly removed my hand and placed it gently against her cheek. I reassured her that she wasn't doing anything wrong, but I was not sure whether that kind of touch was a good idea. I retreated, promising I would return shortly. I consulted with my associates. Kate's sexual interest wasn't part of the plan. Now that she was out of the coma she was due to head back home in a few days. She had already spoken to her ecstatic parents and they were dying to come pick her up. We decided to ignore her sexual inclinations and hope they would pass as she cheered up. So when I returned I told Kate it wasn't right for us to be sexual any more, that the previous times were to save her life and now she should return to the rules that all nine-year-olds observed, including no stranger touch. She looked deflated but nodded. As the days went by, Kate got worse, not better, and we had to delay her departure. She lay on her bed, refusing to eat or drink and crying whenever she got enough energy to cry. When asked what she wanted she just shrugged. There were no promising treatments within the domain of accepted medical practice, especially given how fast she was sinking. It was time to consider the extraordinary and experimental once again. Kate's last enthusiastic act had been rubbing my hand between her legs, so it seemed worth seeing what hope for a cure might lie in that direction. When I went in to her room her profound misery seemed to waver for a moment. I sat by her on the bed and rested my hand gently on her shoulder. I started lightly stroking her cheek and hair, and more energy seemed to flow back into her. I said I would enjoy touching her more if she liked that idea, but I would stop if she was in the least uncomfortable. She had put the idea of being sexual with me totally out of her mind, but now as the possibility reemerged she slowly realized that she liked that idea very much. Sensing that reaction in her I felt a wave of sexual interest glide through me. She sat up slowly, stared at me with wide eyes, and gently placed my hand between her legs again. I felt a surge of arousal. She flushed and shuddered a little as that feeling of mine got radioed to her, amplified, and then surged through her brain. She started to pull her shirt over her head, pausing to see if I would object, and I gave her the go-ahead. In a matter of seconds she was totally naked and trying to unfasten my pants. I paused long enough to remove from my pocket the lube I had brought, then stripped. Kate wiggled on the bed as my full erection bounced into view. I sat on the bed with her and started fondling her chest, but she impatiently put my hand back between her legs. I opened the lube, then she grabbed the tube and applied it quickly and lavishly to her labial areas. She then stuck the tube up her vagina and squirted half of it up inside her, and it gushed back out, soaking the sheet. She told me with every bit of body language she could muster that she wanted me inside her right away and wanted my orgasm transmitted to her as soon as possible. I felt pleasure burn through me as I slid into her once again, enhanced this time by knowing she wanted my sexual attentions, and wanted them badly. I started thrusting harder, attuned to any signs of her discomfort or hesitation but detecting none. I let my animal instincts take over, and could tell that the more I dropped my inhibitions the better she felt. I forced myself up inside her farther and harder than ever and fulfillment of my basest instincts pulsed more sperm up into her while pulsing ecstasy through me. She screamed with pleasure. I decided that if I died tomorrow it would have been worth it. She wanted it again and was disappointed when I explained that my penis needed some time to recover. But I was ready in half an hour. As I slid into her again and began the back and forth motion of sex, she moaned, caressed my back, wriggled, and panted. She felt an extra surge from me when she forced her hips up off the bed, pushing her vagina up at me. I came again; she convulsed and screamed again. I promised we could do it again the next day if she would eat and try to get better. That evening she ate a hearty meal, bathed, and was in all ways an enthusiastic and totally cooperative patient. It wasn't clear just what would be best for her recovery, but the next morning I decided to fulfill every desire I had as long as she was enthusiastic about it too. If nothing else, we would create a data point in the experimental search for a lasting cure. And what a data point it was! She licked the tip of my penis and drove me crazy with artful tongue swirls and flicks. She rode me, brushing her hair lightly over my face. We did it on our sides, face to face. I mounted her like a doggy. She discovered that not only did I laugh when she barked and panted, but my amusement enhanced my sexual excitement -- transferred straight to her brain. So thrusting away just as hard and fast as I could, I came inside my panting, barking bitch. After some rest and gentle snuggling my erection reasserted itself and I stood, carrying her in my arms. She twisted to face me and energetically impaled herself up to the hilt, then bounced up and down with abandon. Later I pinned her in a corner and took her there, feeling a little more mean than loving -- but she adored it. We played hide and seek in the total dark, and when I found her, I nailed her. When she found me, she impaled herself on me. With the lights back on, I eased the tempo, engaging her in missionary position, centered properly on the bed. She put her hands up to surrender, and I caught them and interlocked fingers. I kissed her, gently and possessively let my weight down on her and soon sweetly pulsed another few spurts of sperm up inside her, and she sweetly moaned. I was disappointed at one level that there was a significant complication to this new treatment method, but thrilled at an emotional and physical and animal level that her appetite for sex with me seemed unlimited. It was easy to isolate the key elements that made the sex work for her. With my transmitter or her receiver turned off she got no benefit. Her own sex organs were not experiencing any significant sexual arousal, so lube was needed each time. But if I simply masturbated with her she felt unsatisfied. It was my total deep penetration and ejaculation up inside her vagina -- my total satisfaction -- that she resonated with so strongly. We finally weaned Kate from my attentions and she went home, our first success. Part of the weaning involved a vibrator which she could use (initially morning, noon and night) so her own pleasure and orgasms could replace a little of what I had broadcast to her. -------------- We accepted six more girls over the next few weeks. I was unsuccessful in reviving two, but my ecstasy was able to wake up the other four. Curing five of seven patients was big news. Some people argued that pedophilia was so disgusting that death was better. It was the minority view. Four other people volunteered to be transmitters. Two died and two developed untreatable psychotic manic episodes. We all realized then just how serious a risk I had taken. Originally when I moved to Columbia I had modest quarters and continued to participate in research and started setting up a small lab. As the technique became known as a success, plenty of money came in, and I treated myself to a tasteful villa with a fine view, a chef, and a hot tub. I found I wasn't so interested in research any more. I had found a calling. As for the trauma we expected the girls to experience, no word of lasting harm reached me. Instead, I received holiday greetings and in two cases the girls became my pen-pals. A jury will not convict a person who is breaking the law to keep something worse from happening. Maybe it works in psychology too. Like Kate, all of our successes at first craved sex with me and needed it to keep from going into a severe depression, but we were able to send them all home in somewhere between two days and two weeks. Our eleventh patient was Suzanne. Despite three weeks of diligent effort we still could not wean her; after a mere two days without my sexual attentions she became seriously depressed. With trepidation we sent her home, hoping conventional psychiatry could help her. After two suicide attempts and a year of confinement, her parents were desperate and sent her back to me to see if that could help. She was happy to see me, very unhappy to leave, and totally non-functional once home. After two such tries her parents asked if I would consider keeping her indefinitely to give her some sort of life. I agreed. It was a strange and perverted life, but she was experiencing more pleasure than any girl in history. We never really admitted that Suzanne was going to stay with me indefinitely, and certainly didn't want to publicize the fact. It was hard enough for parents to submit their comatose daughter to sex with a strange. The possibility that she might end up as a pre-pubescent sex addict was horrifying. In any case we wanted to avoid creating more Suzannes. The trick was to give the comatose girl enough pleasure to wake her up, but not so much that her brain demanded the intense pleasure and slid into serious depression without it. It was a very hard balancing act. Our best procedure included my having sex with each girl once after she was fully awake and recovered, which was very rewarding for me. I might have had sex with her two, three, or even four times while she lay comatose, but then I got to make love to her when she was eager (if not frantic) for the sex and I could sense her intense experience of my orgasm and satisfaction. We discovered a drug that was usually effective in helping the condition. That and the vibrator were usually enough. Nonetheless, among our first 45 successes Amy and Emily following Suzanne's course. Now there was a dilemma. If I kept having sex with each of them, it would cut into the number of girls I could awaken. The solution was to "discover" that I could transmit my pleasure to a girl who was nearby even if I wasn't having sex with her. Somewhat to our surprise, the girls had notably less intense pleasure when they were just nearby instead of having sex with me. We continued to assume that to actually wake a girl up from a coma I did have to be having sex with her herself. To get the lesser effect Amy, Emily and Suzanne had to be within six feet of me. Each girl needed a "booster shot" of actual sex with me every couple weeks, but she could get along in the interim just by being nearby when I had an orgasm. I was delighted to give "booster shots" far more often than required. As permanent residents Suzanne, Amy and Emily needed a home, and it was likely that more girls would follow. So we set up what amounted to a small luxurious boarding school. It would have been just barely possible to have my girls in different rooms while being within six feet of me, but it made sense to try having one of them present with me, and I found the prospect exciting. I found that any sort of little teasing or flirting a lively girl did while I was thrusting into my unresponsive girl added to my excitement and pleasure. Over time statistics showed that this led to greater effectiveness at waking up new girls. Our failures with Suzanne, Amy and Emily ended up saving the lives of many others. I found I could wake up not just pre-pubescent girls but many up into their teens, though with a lower percentage of success. It was exciting to have some girls show up in various stages of development, some with modest bits of pubic hair or breasts that were starting to grow, as well as many with full-fledged women's bodies. With girls who craved all the sexual attention I could spare for them and a constant stream of comatose girls to awaken I was very busy. I was fulfilling a vital life-saving service while indulging all of my sexual fantasies. I was happy. But as expected, the number of girls we had to keep indefinitely rose as time went on. ----------- Suzanne, Bridget, Naomi, Deirdre, Amy, Zoe, Emily and Sarah all eagerly joined me on the king-sized bed where the comatose Hannah lay on her back. I gave each a leisurely kiss and cupped her labia gently with my hand as she climbed up. Sarah and Zoe lay on their sides, each gently licking inside the other's labia. Deirdre lay facing me with her legs wide apart, gently thrusting with her hips and sliding her middle finger in and out of herself, all the while looking at me with adoration. Suzanne rubbed my shoulders. Bridget started licking my toes, something I found I really enjoyed for some reason. Naomi skillfully mouthed my penis while fondling my scrotum gently. Deirdre started running her hands all over Naomi's rear end while making slow thrusting motions with her own hips. Amy finished lubricating Hannah and started sliding her middle finger in and out of her seductively while looking at me expectantly. Emily nibbled on Hannah's ear while running her hand over her chest where breasts were just becoming detectable. I gently nudged Naomi's mouth off my penis and positioned myself over the gorgeous if unconscious Hannah. She had just the finest fuzz of pubic hair. Amy guided my penis to Hannah's opening and I pushed in. She was tight but smooth and hot and my penis slid easily. With this pile of adoring horny girls all around me, I couldn't hold back long. My strokes in Hannah got long and deep, fast and furious. I surged deep inside her, ecstasy overwhelming me. Eight girls convulsed with my orgasm. They muffled their screams and tried not to thrash too much for fear of hurting someone else. I collapsed beside Hannah. The girls turned their thoughts to her to the degree their fog of afterglow allowed; they had been lying exactly where she was not so many months before. Then Hannah stirred and opened her eyes. Emily saw it first and gently whispered in her ear: "Good morning, Hannah!" The girls all repeated it in turn, and my deep voice was the last. "Good morning, Hannah!" Her luck had changed. Before she was slated to die, and now she was going to live. ================================================================== I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com.