Author: Sterling
Title: Prescription: An Enthusiastic Fucking
Summary: A hellish microbe is on the loose. Girls from ages five
through puberty sicken and die -- unless a man has zestful sex
with them. The most heinous crime known to humanity is necessary
to treat a pandemic. Are there men who can step forward? How do
they and the girls think about this strange new twist to life? Do
you dare follow where this premise leads? It just might be a
reasonably happy place.
Keywords: MF Mf gi mf boy het cons rape noncons first oral SciFi

NOTICE:  This story contains explicit sex.

First posted 6/12/2011.

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!

============================================================
Prescription: An Enthusiastic Fucking

Chapter 1

"Consistent with previous data ... over 1/4 of the current
subjects self-reported pedophilic interest or exhibited penile
arousal to pedophilic stimuli that equaled or exceeded arousal to
adult stimuli ... arousal to pedophilic stimuli does not
necessarily correspond with pedophilic behavior ... a sizable
minority of men in normal populations who have not molested
children may exhibit pedophilic fantasies and arousal. In recent
studies, 12 to 32% of community college samples of men reported
sexual attraction to children."  Hall, Hirschman and Oliver,
"Sexual Arousal and Arousability to Pedophilic Stimuli in a
Community Sample of Normal Men", _Behavior Therapy_ 26, 681-694,
1995.

---------------------------------------------------------
 
Dr. Black looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Alison Ferber's
heart started pounding. A doctor who was fidgeting and wouldn't
make eye contact usually didn't have good news. She usually had
very bad news.
 
Her 9-year-old Cathy was sick, and at first she and her husband
hadn't thought much of it. It started like any ordinary GI bug,
with stomach pain and vomiting, and she held her daughter's hand
and waited for it to pass. As it went into its second day she got
concerned. She thought they should take her to the doctor, but
her husband Jonathan convinced her to wait a little longer.
 
When her daughter said she felt funny "down there" Alison
suspected it was something out of the ordinary and took her in
immediately.
 
As usual, Alison had been present during the exam. In the
memorable part, the doctor had Cathy slide her panties down and
spread her legs wide as she lay on the examining table. Alison
had seen the doctor gently pull her labial folds back. Cathy was
wet down there, and that didn't seem normal.
 
The doctor had made a point of having Cathy wait with the nurse
while she discussed her case with Alison.
 
"This is a very unusual set of symptoms," explained the doctor.
"We don't have a name for it, but a couple dozen cases like this
have surfaced in the metro New York area in the past three weeks.
Along with her stomach bug symptoms, Cathy's genitals are
affected. She reports no pain, and there is no evidence of an
infection. But her vagina has undergone the same changes it would
during puberty. Very unusual. Perhaps you've seen some news
stories about this?"
 
Alison shook her head. She wasn't an avid consumer of news.
 
"They haven't been headline stories because we know so little."
The doctor took a deep breath and looked straight at Alison. "We
do know that two of those girls have died, and only three have
gotten better. It is a very serious condition. Antibiotics and
antivirals seem to have no effect -- we don't have any promising
treatments. The one glimmer of a lead we have is very, very
strange and quite upsetting."
 
Alison waited while the doctor fidgeted for another couple
seconds.
 
"One of the three girls who got better reported that her father
... had sexual intercourse with her."
 
Alison was stunned.
 
"As a mandated reporter of child abuse, her doctor had to notify
the police, and that girl's father is now in custody, and rightly
so. But in medical mysteries like this, we need to learn
everything we can without making our patients afraid to tell the
truth.
 
"So when that finding was reported on the forum we doctors use
here in New York to share information, the doctors of the two
other recovered patients approached it a little differently. They
explained the situation and also the mandated reporter law,
inviting the parents to investigate if anything similar had
happened, but making sure they not actually tell the doctor
enough to trigger the law."
 
The doctor stared off into space. "The results came in this
morning. The anxiety and confusion in the parental reports is
unmistakable. Neither case is the expected matter-of-fact
'Nothing of that kind happened.' So if you turn on the news, you
will see a huge story break within the next couple hours."
 
Alison's mind was spinning. "Who would ... abuse his daughter
when she's so sick? I mean, I can't understand how a monster
could abuse his daughter anyway -- but when she's sick?"
 
"Yeah, that's a good question. Nothing justifies it, but in terms
of understanding it, the changes in a girl's genitals are the
most stunning feature of this disorder. Her vagina looks like
it's ready for intercourse. The disorder even lubricates it -- as
you saw with Cathy. That one girl they examined showed no
physical trauma, and in her description it happened fairly
naturally. She told her father her genitals felt funny. He
looked, then felt with his fingers. Granted, the huge majority of
fathers wouldn't go further than that, but her condition did
bring the opportunity to his attention. Her stomach cramps and
vomiting did not recur after intercourse, and she has been better
for 48 hours now.
 
"Now, that brings us back to your situation. Child rape is a
serious crime and typically causes psychological harm to the girl
persisting into adulthood. I could lose my license and face
criminal prosecution if I suggested anything illegal to my
patients. We'll give your daughter antibiotics and antivirals, of
course, but the evidence suggests they will do no good. And her
condition is life-threatening."
 
"So we just give her the medicine? Anything else?"
 
Alison felt the doctor staring at her. "Make sure Cathy gets
plenty of fluids. Keep me updated on her condition."
 
"Oh, OK..." said Alison, gathering her things to go.
 
"Mrs. Ferber," the doctor said. "Are you going to tell your
husband about our conversation?"
 
"Yes, yes of course."
 
"Could you ask him to call me directly?"
 
"Oh, OK."
 
"You won't forget, now?"
 
"No, no," she said. She naturally wanted her husband's informed
opinion.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
Jonathan Ferber smiled as he hung up, in spite of the gravity of
the situation. He understood ass-covering.
 
"What do you think, honey?" his wife asked anxiously.
 
"I think we need to find someone to have sexual intercourse with
Cathy."
 
"What?"
 
"That's what the doctor was saying."
 
"No she wasn't!"
 
"She couldn't, in so many words, of course. She's covering her
ass. But she's saying it's the only hope we have for curing
Cathy. I wonder how on earth we can find someone."
 
"I think we should get a second opinion!"
 
"Fine," said Jon. "But it had better be quick."
 
The best they could do for a second opinion was a doctor at the
emergency room. When they explained what Dr. Black had said, the
doctor looked uncomfortable. But he said he had similar
information and wasn't aware of anything Dr. Black had said that
was incorrect. That was all Jon needed to hear.
 
He and Alison spent hours listening to the news story as it
unfolded, getting the take from every angle, hearing the
commentators. The death toll had risen to 11.
 
Cathy got worse, her half-hour vomiting spells turning to dry
heaves as her stomach emptied of every last drop of fluid.
 
Who could they get? There was one man who was willing to risk
prison to save her life. Him. Cathy was his daughter. Could he
manage intercourse with her?

He told her he needed to look at her privates. As he stared, he
felt a surge of something. Looking at women between the legs was
exciting. Seeing young girls that way was a curiosity -- Cathy's
cute little girl lips had been constantly staring him in the face
when she was a tiny girl. Cathy's labia were now bigger because
she had grown, and bigger still because of her condition. When he
thought about them as guardians of a place he might actually go
exploring, he started getting hard.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
Cathy didn't sit up -- she just turned her pale, exhausted face
from parent to parent.
 
Alison's eyes teared up as she held her daughter's hand. "You are
very sick, dear," she said. "This could go on and on. It doesn't
seem like it's going to get better."
 
"What do you mean?" asked the girl in her thin voice.
 
"It means that ... that you might die," said Jon.
 
"Jon!" said Alison as Cathy's eyes flew open.
 
"Well, she deserves the truth!" said Jon.
 
"I don't wanna die!" said the little one, eyes tearing up.
 
"Of course you don't, honey," said her mother. "We're going to
find a way to beat this!"
 
Jon took over. "There is one thing that might help -- might make
you all better. But it's really, really weird."
 
"You mean really horrible," said Alison.
 
Jon gave her a cold look. "Let's leave it to Cathy to decide
what's horrible and what's not, OK? Some things might not seem so
horrible when you're facing death."
 
Alison held her peace.
 
"You know how you're feeling weird between the legs?"
 
"Yeah, kind of itchy," she said.
 
"Do you know... how babies are made?"
 
"Uuhhh, something about mommies and daddies and private parts."
 
"Right. Well, you know about boys' penises?"
 
"Of course," said the girl. She was too weak to give much umph to
the "duh" she meant to convey.
 
"You know how they get bigger when boys grow older? And get hard
sometimes?"
 
She nodded.
 
"What might help you get better..." he said, and then paused. He
took a big breath, then the words coming in a rush, "What might
help is for a man to slide his penis into your vagina -- down
where it's wet, you know?"
 
"What?"
 
"It's how men and women make babies, but of course you're way too
young to have a baby. But when a man and a woman love each other,
it can be a beautiful thing. Mommies and daddies love doing that
with each other. We'd never ever let anything like that happen to
you -- you shouldn't even let anyone see your private parts of
course -- but this is an emergency," he said.
 
Cathy looked as disgusted as she could in her weakened state.
 
"It's your choice," said her mother.
 
Jon wasn't sure about that. He really hoped it wouldn't come to
that, but he was prepared to rape his daughter if that was what
it took to save her life. He was embarrassed to feel a little
more blood surge into his penis.
 
Then Alison stepped up to the plate. "The way you are all wet and
itchy down there? That's nature's way of telling you that this
really strange thing has to happen to save your life."
 
That seemed to calm Cathy down a little. "OK," she said, "if
that's what I need." She barely got the words out before another
spasm of dry heaves wracked her body.
 
When they had passed, Jon began again. "Then there's the question
of what man. Do you have any ideas?"
 
Their girl looked very young and very scared. "You, daddy," she
said.
 
Alison and Jon exchanged glances. "Ordinarily a man wouldn't do
anything sexual with his daughter at all. He'd be the very worst
one to do something like that because she trusts him to just be a
loving daddy. But we're having trouble thinking of someone
better. We didn't think a total stranger would be a good idea."
 
"What about Uncle Troy?"
 
Troy was Alison's brother, and he and Cathy always had fun
together on those rare occasions when he was in town.

"He's in California, sweetie," Alison said.
 
They couldn't think of anyone else who would even consider doing
a favor like that for them and their daughter.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"OK, Cathy, honey," Jon said as soon as Cathy's spasm of dry
heaves ended. "Let me take your pajama bottoms and panties off...
Now lie like that, with your legs apart... Good."
 
He gently pulled her labial folds apart. He could see how a penis
could fit. She of course looked nothing like Alison, whose vagina
had been stretched by a baby's head -- Cathy's, to be exact. His
daughter was very wet, and her vaginal opening was easy to see.
He slid his finger in a little.
 
"Now you hold yourself open like that when I come back, OK?"
 
"OK," whispered the very sick girl.
 
The plan was that he would get excited to near orgasm by his
wife, the grown woman. Then he would transfer his penis to his
daughter at the very end.
 
Jon left and went to the master bedroom, shutting the door behind
him. His wife Alison lay in the same position he had left Cathy
in. Jon was wearing his pajamas, though with no underpants on
underneath.
 
Alison had been rubbing herself and her pussy was wet enough. But
she looked pained, not at all like a woman who was interested in
sex. Ordinarily such a look would have been totally incompatible
with offering herself to him. For him it was an oddly liberating
moment. Their sex life had been a quarterly event these past few
years. Pained expression or not, she turned him on, and his cock
was plenty hard as he worked it out of his PJs and moved into
position. He slid it home in Alison and began pumping away.
 
He liked giving Alison pleasure, but she was obviously not
planning to enjoy this encounter. With their daughter's grave
condition, he couldn't blame her. But his male instincts allowed
him to get hard and enjoy sex even under stress. He had no need
to pay attention to what she was feeling, so it was tempting to
just fuck away like an animal to a quick orgasm. Male animals did
that naturally. He felt himself especially hard just thinking
about it.
 
But he couldn't let himself go because he had a very important
job. He slid out of his wife and walked down the short hall to
Cathy's room, holding his slick, erect penis.
 
In this next part of the plan, he didn't need to think about his
daughter. All he had to do was focus on her vagina, mature and
ready to receive him. Exactly which female a vagina belonged to
didn't matter to a male animal.
 
As he approached with his cock, her eyes were wide open and she
was breathing fast. He squelched his compassion; the next few
seconds were not a time to be concerned about her feelings. He
would have closed his eyes right away, but needed some visual
guidance for getting his cock started in just the right spot.
 
As he slid in, though, it was a heavenly sensation. This vagina
was much tighter than Alison's, of course, and her lubrication
had a lovely texture.
 
Eyes closed, he tried not to think about his daughter. But when
he penetrated her, she said, "Weird!" in a surprisingly strong
voice, and mumbled similar expressions of surprise as he filled
her more and more with his cock. He could hardly ask her to keep
quiet! But her commentary removed any shred of an illusion that
it was just a vagina he was fucking. This vagina was part of his
daughter -- and not just some accessory. It was physically and
emotionally close to her very center.
 
But she needed some medicine and he was going to deliver it. It
took him 30 seconds before he ejaculated, longer than he had
hoped. He held himself still as the semen pulsed into her. He
deliberately didn't make any noise, though he couldn't hide his
heavy breathing.
 
"OK, all done," he said, sliding off and shoving his penis back
inside his pajamas.
 
"Wow," she mumbled, as he walked unsteadily back to his own
bedroom.
 
As they had arranged, Alison slipped in as he left to check on
her little girl.
 
"Is she OK?" he asked when she rejoined him in the bedroom.
 
"Yeah," she said and sighed. "So, that's over with."
 
Yes, Jon said to himself, it's over. All he had done was to
convince his male body to ejaculate as his penis was enveloped in
hot, wet vaginal tissue, and that was natural enough. That was
the theory. That was the way he ought to think about it, and that
was the way he would think about it. He would control his
thoughts.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
_The New York Times_
"Blog Predicted Lolita Virus"
 
A week before the first cases of what has been dubbed the Lolita
Syndrome struck, an anonymous blogger bragged that he had done
something big:

"You guys are all moaning about how horrible it is to be a
pedophile, how no one understands and how we're all doomed to
either stay in the closet or suffer repression just for our
thoughts... Me, I'm not just bitching. I've done something about
it. Everything's going to change. You'll see. Watch the news from
New York. Society's going to get a pie in the face on the big lie
of just how horrible and monstrous it is for men to feel
attracted to young girls."
 
Blog entries are full of outlandish claims, but the Lolita
Syndrome seems to fulfill his predictions.

The entry was signed "Angry Scientist", a fairly recent
contributor to a pro-pedophile site. Like many "moderate"
pedophile sites, it claims that it doesn't condone or encourage
actual sex between grown men and girls, but just provides a
support group for men who feel those attractions. Many people
think the claim is disingenuous.
 
Genetically engineering a virus to produce the Lolita Syndrome
was thought to be beyond the limits of modern technology. No
public research programs pursue goals remotely like the Lolita
virus. "It has more in common with germ warfare than medicine,"
said one scientist.

What about germ warfare? As usual, government sources refuse to
discuss biological weapons issues as a matter of national
security. Experts admit that since they know so little of what
goes on in the government labs, it's hard to be confident that
engineering a Lolita virus was as far-fetched as they thought.
 
The timing and specificity of the blog entry prediction are
uncanny.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
Two hours had gone by, and Cathy was still having the dry heaves.
They had lessened a little, but the reports from the others were
that the girl would feel much better within an hour, and Cathy
was not feeling better.
 
Now Jon was panicked. Their only treatment option had failed, and
she might have only days to live. He had broken the law, violated
a powerful taboo, and done just what good daddies never did to
their daughters. He had taken her dignity, something she could
have possessed up until the end. Now, her last thoughts might be
how her daddy had violated her -- how he had raped her.
 
He sat in his agony, trying to think of a way out of this
impossible situation. A couple people had tried simply squirting
semen into a girl's vagina with an eyedropper, hoping for a cure
without the trauma, but it had no beneficial effect.
 
The _Times_ article kept coming back to him. This virus was
designed by a man who wanted to show that what pedophiles felt
wasn't so terribly rare and wasn't inherently evil. He hadn't
designed it so semen in a vagina could cure a girl. His goal was
that a pedophile's attraction acted out would cure a girl. That's
what he wanted men and society at large to discover.
 
His silent 30-second sex with Cathy certainly wasn't what a
pedophile would dream of.

He imagined the sort of full and sensual sex people liked best. A
pedophile would probably dream of the same thing, but with a girl
substituted for a woman. Could he do it? Could he play the part
of a pedophile? He had this hunch that he could have gotten hard
just contemplating Cathy and didn't need any warm-up from his
wife. Partly he hadn't wanted Cathy to think he could get hard
from looking at her -- and he certainly hadn't wanted Alison to
think that. Could he now adopt the predator's point of view?
 
His inspiration was followed by a mix of emotions. He felt a
surge of hope for his daughter, he felt a twinge of nausea, he
felt guilt, he felt excitement and he felt a strong pulse of
blood in his loins. The guilt was partly at how his daughter
might react; what thoughts would plague her final hours if he
didn't succeed this time? But mostly the guilt was a realization
that if he did it, it couldn't quite all be acting. A man didn't
get erections from pretending.
 
Since this might take a while, he needed to begin right after one
of her spells of dry heaves ended. He waited alone in the living
room, heart pounding. He had time to change his mind, but it
continued to feel like the right thing to do -- the only thing to
do, Cathy's retching was painfully audible throughout the house,
and when she was finished he rose.
 
Alison was by her bedside, holding her daughter's hand, and he
motioned her to the hallway.
 
"Alison, I'm going to try again," he said. "I'm going to try it a
little differently this time."
 
"What do you mean?" she asked.
 
"Trust me. Just leave us alone, OK?"
 
Alison gave him a long look before she shut the door behind her.
 
"Hi, Cathy, honey, how are you feeling?"
 
The girl groaned.
 
"I want to have sex again, a different way, to see if it works
this time."
 
"Oh," she said, with no obvious emotion.
 
"I'm going to do it more like mommies and daddies would. Here,
let me help you out of all your clothes."
 
"You're going to see my chest, too?" the young thing managed to
ask.
 
"I'm sorry, but yes... Mommies and daddies look at each other's
bodies."
 
She started to sit up but fell back in exhaustion. Instead, she
lifted herself up just enough at the right moments so Jon could
get her clothes off.
 
"Here, I'll take mine off too. See my penis? See how hard it is?"
 
"Yeah," Cathy said, tracking it closely with her exhausted eyes.
 
What a great dad he was, asking her to admire his penis. He took
a deep breath. He'd have to put that sort of guilt aside to carry
out his plan.

He lay down next to her and stroked her hair and her ear and her
cheek.
 
Jon wanted to be true to his theory. A pedophile would worship
and adore the body of a child. He wasn't a pedophile, so he
imagined the body he might worship: the most luscious, attractive
18-year-old in the world. How would he treat such a girl if he
could let himself go? He would treat Cathy's body the same way.
 
He moved in for a kiss.
 
Cathy turned away, "What are you doing, Daddy?"
 
"I need to kiss you, Cathy. Like we were boyfriend and
girlfriend."
 
Cathy had bad breath, but Jon didn't care. She let herself be
kissed and even returned his lip-to-lip caresses to some extent.
 
As for Jon, he felt sensual joy. His cock was hard. At one level
he hated his response -- only a disgusting man could respond to
his daughter that way. But in the actual doing, in the actual
sensations, it was wonderful. He would worry about the
implications later. What mattered now was that he might save
Cathy's life.
 
While he kissed, he used his free hand to run all up and down the
girl's arm, along her side, and over her chest. He lingered on a
nipple.
 
Cathy pulled away with a troubled look, but Jon persisted.
 
"Like boyfriend and girlfriend, right?"
 
He returned to his caress of that private part, hoping she wasn't
going to start crying or anything. Could she handle it?
 
Then she gave him a small smile, then a weak giggle. A giggle!
That was OK, much better than crying.
 
Jon kissed all over her arms and hands, her stomach, and her
chest. Cathy looked at him with amusement -- as best she could
muster in her weakened condition. He licked each nipple
carefully. The giggles came back occasionally. It wasn't the
reaction he expected from her, and he filed it away to ponder
later.
 
His hands raced over her calves, knees and thighs, before
settling into some rhythmic massaging at her pussy opening. He
was aware of her eyes focused on him intently.
 
He then dove down, jockeying to get his mouth between her legs.
As he started licking her hairless pussy, she said, "Daddy!" but
she didn't squirm or try to stop him. Instead, she started
giggling again.
 
He got some taste of his own ejaculation from a few hours before,
but he didn't mind. He focused on licking the girl, especially
her clit.
 
When he had done that for as long as seemed right, he lifted his
head, deciding it was time for the final act.
 
He reared up onto his knees. "See it, Cathy?" he asked. "See my
penis? Now I'm going to put it in you." Was that something a
pedophile might say?
 
Cathy nodded but didn't look anxious as she had before. Maybe it
was because she now knew what to expect in terms of physical
sensations.
 
He let his cock slide into her pussy and felt its luxurious, wet
grip. Once he was seated inside her, he lowered himself onto his
daughter and clutched her to him, arms behind her, one shoulder
blade in each hand. He then began his fucking motion, soon
getting his cock in all the way to the hilt. He kissed her again
while he thrust vigorously. He grunted and made sure she could
see the pleasure on his face. All things a pedophile would do, he
thought.
 
He estimated he'd been fucking her for twenty minutes -- was that
how long a pedophile would do it if he could? He was also aware
that his child's life was in danger -- it would certainly be a
tragedy if she died because he made this into a marathon. He
stopped holding himself back, letting his body take him towards
orgasm.
 
"Oh, Cathy... It feels so ... good, oohhhh, wowwww," he muttered,
and finally a loud, "Unnnnnhhhhh!" as his orgasm was upon him and
he shot his gobs of sperm up into his little girl.
 
When he was done panting he slid off her, but decided he'd stay
close, just like a pedophile would. He turned her on her side and
spooned against her back, stroking her hair and her chest lazily.
 
Her next bout of dry heaves would break the mood, but until then
he'd snuggle with her.
 
But her next bout never came. She was on the mend.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
Cathy was out of school for four weeks. At the end of her first
day back, Rachel and Nancy cornered her.
 
"So you had it? The sex disease?" asked Rachel eagerly.
 
"I, um ... yeah."
 
"What was it like?" Rachel continued with a gleam in her eye.
 
"It was awful. I was throwing up over and over again." She
shuddered.
 
"Not that -- how was the sex?"
 
"What? Oh..."
 
"You had to have sex to get better, right? Who did it to you?"
 
"I... Well, my daddy."
 
"Your daddy! You let your daddy do it to you? Stick it in you?
That's so gross! Did he hold you down?"
 
Cathy's eyes began swimming. "No, it was..." Then she was crying.
 
"Was it that bad?" asked Rachel. "Disgusting? His thing up your
'vagina'? Ewwwww!"
 
"Cathy, I'm sorry," said Nancy, and patted her shoulder. "Come
on, Rachel, leave her alone."
 
"But I want to know what it was like!"
 
"Come on! She's crying."
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
The counselor smiled, but Cathy wasn't sure she trusted her.
 
"The phrase for what you had is "Intercourse Alleviated
Gastrointestinal Distress Syndrome, or IAGDS, or 'Egads'. Did you
know that?"
 
"Yeah." She'd heard 'Egads'. That was the polite name for what
everyone else called the Lolita Bug.
 
"The first thing I want to make sure you know is that you didn't
do anything wrong. The bug was caused by a virus, and has nothing
to do with what kind of a girl you are or your thoughts or
anything. The changes in your genitals had nothing to do with
whether you touched them or not or how -- I have no idea in your
case and no need to know. It doesn't matter.
 
"I'm sure you remember from your Basic Safety course that your
body is your private space and no one should ever touch it
without your permission. And I'm sure you remember that you
should never let anyone, especially an adult, touch you in any of
your private spots. We tell you that because if those things
happen it can be very bad for your body and can make you sad for
the rest of your life. A man had intercourse with you twice. So
we're very concerned about how you feel about it. And it's even
more complicated because it was your daddy."
 
The counselor leaned forward. "So, how do you feel, Cathy?"
 
"Fine."
 
The counselor waited, but as Cathy said no more she followed up.
"Can you tell me how you felt at the time? What was it like for
you when it was happening? Anything you felt is fine; no feeling
would be wrong or bad. If you felt very angry that would be
perfectly normal. Or if you felt sad. Or confused."
 
"It was really weird," Cathy said. "I had no idea anything like
that would ever happen."
 
"Of course... Close your eyes... Take a deep breath... and think
back on what happened."
 
Cathy didn't close her eyes. "First they said I might be dying,"
she said, and choked up. "That was awful. I was so scared. Then
daddy said it might help if someone, you know, did it to me."
 
"How did you feel when he said that?"
 
"I was mostly still scared of dying. But it felt really weird to
have him say that."
 
"Of course."
 
"You know what helped, though? My mommy said I had gotten all big
down below, and that was like a sign from God that someone had to
do that to me. It kind of made sense then. Like the world was
already topsy turvy and this was part of it."
 
"Your mommy was very wise."
 
"But mostly I was scared of dying -- but I was so tired, too."
 
"Mmmm-hmmm. Then what happened with the actual sex part?"
 
"Daddy told me that ordinarily he'd be the worst person to do
something like that, but since no one else was around he'd do it,
though he felt really bad about it."
 
"What did you think of that?"
 
"I didn't want any stranger doing things to me! I knew he wanted
the best for me."

The counselor nodded, and after a pause said, "What happened
then?"

"I helped Daddy get me out of my PJ bottoms and panties and open
my legs wide. I felt a little ashamed to have him looking at me
like that."
 
"Of course, Cathy, of course. You should never have to see a man
looking at you that way. It was totally natural to feel ashamed."
 
"Then he went away, and when he came back he had his hand around
his ... penis, kind of hiding it from me. The next thing I knew,
I felt this big pressure down below."
 
"Did it hurt? Did you feel scared? Angry?"
 
"No, it just felt weird. Strange. His thing inside me kept
feeling bigger and bigger, more and more. I had no idea how it
was fitting. Partly it felt pretty funny."
 
"Funny?"
 
"Like a joke or something. Like, maybe, if he stuck a bunch of
fingers in my cheek. It would feel weird, but mostly I'd think,
'Why the heck is he doing that? Is he playing a trick on me?'."
 
"Hmmmm."
 
"Then he started going in and out, back and forth, and that
really felt like a prank or something."
 
"Did you look at your daddy's face while this was happening?"
 
"Yeah, he had his eyes closed. Like maybe it was really
unpleasant. He didn't look happy. Not like he was playing a
joke."
 
"Then how did it change?"
 
"Well, his face scrunched up, and he started breathing really
fast. Then he relaxed. After a little while he moved off me and
his penis slid out. It was kind of like when a loud noise stops
and it's so quiet? That's what it felt like down there when it
was suddenly all empty again."
 
"Then what?"
 
"He left."
 
"He just left?"
 
"Yeah. My mommy came in to check. She asked how I felt -- kind of
like you are. But it didn't hurt down there. It was my stomach
that hurt. I was getting that awful sick feeling because I was
going to throw up again soon. God, I thought my body was going to
turn itself inside out."
 
"Did you think about how what your daddy did might save your
life?"
 
"Oh yes. But it didn't sound like a sure thing. And then I did
throw up again. By the time I had the second one I could tell my
mommy and daddy were really worried, and I got scared."
 
"That makes perfect sense."
 
"Then after a couple hours Daddy came and said he wanted to do it
again."
 
"What did you think about that?"
 
"I don't remember thinking much. I was a little ashamed when he
had me take my clothes off so he could see my chest."
 
"Of course. That's totally normal you'd feel that way."
 
"But then when he actually started doing it..." Cathy smiled.
 
"Why do you smile?"
 
"It was something like from a kissy movie. He kissed me and
rubbed his hands everywhere. And I meant everywhere. He licked me
down there for a long time! And I could tell he really liked
touching me like that."
 
"He really liked it... How did you feel knowing he really liked
it?"
 
"It was kind of nice. The first time he looked like he was doing
something yucky or painful, and I felt kind of guilty about that.
So it was nice to see he was having a good time."
 
"How did you feel thinking your daddy was feeling good from
touching you that way?"
 
Cathy shrugged. "It was nice he was happy."
 
"But did it bother you that touching your private parts --
touching his daughter like you both knew he shouldn't -- was
making him feel good?"
 
"Huh?"
 
The counselor hesitated. "Did you have any feelings your daddy
was ... taking advantage of you?"
 
"Ummm. No."
 
The counselor was quiet.
 
"Then when he slid his thing in again, I knew what to expect. And
he looked kind of funny being all happy like that from doing that
funny thing, but it was nice too. He squeezed me. He kind of
growled. Then he got really, really happy like I'd never seen."
Cathy smiled. "If I'd known that stuff was coming out of him I
would have been grossed out. But I didn't know it."
 
"Did you feel any pleasure yourself?"
 
"Pleasure?"
 
"Good feelings from your vulva or vagina."
 
"No. I really liked it when he hugged against my back when we
were done."
 
"Good. Then?"
 
"Then I think I fell asleep, and that was nice. What was nicest
was I wasn't sick when I woke up."

After Cathy was silent for some time, the counselor spoke. "So
how did you feel about what happened overall?"
 
"I liked the second time a lot better than the first."
 
"Why?"
 
"It wasn't so weird. It wasn't just getting my ... my vagina
filled. The second time was like acting in a movie, a love story.
I was playing the part of the woman and Daddy was playing the
man."
 
"Good. And you know why he did it?"
 
"Sure. To save my life."
 
"Right. And does that make it a little more OK?"
 
"Sure. It was OK. Well, not really. All that throw-up was totally
awful."
 
"Of course. Don't be surprised if feelings keep coming up over
and over -- feelings of anger or shame or sadness. That's all
perfectly normal. And feel free to talk about them with anyone
you trust."
 
 
============================================================
Chapter 2
 
_The New York Times_. The Week In Review.
 
The Lolita Syndrome has the potential to disrupt and transform
the fabric of society in profound ways. As we approach seven
weeks since the announcement of the Syndrome, it is time to take
stock. This issue includes a number of articles on the subject.
 
 
---------------------------------------------------------

"The Lolita Syndrome: What We Know"
 
It has now been seven weeks since the first reports of the Lolita
Syndrome. At this writing over one thousand cases have been
reported, with at least three confirmed cases in 15 different US
and Canadian metropolitan areas, plus a handful of cases in
London, Singapore, and Rome.
 
Of course, it has an official name: "Intercourse Alleviated
Gastrointestinal Distress Syndrome" or IAGDS, an acronym
pronounced as "Egads". But everyone calls it the Lolita Syndrome.
 
It is universally assumed that the Syndrome is caused by a
micro-organism. It has not been isolated, but epidemiologists can
draw many conclusions based on the distribution of cases.
 
According to Dr. Arne Borg of the Center for Disease Control,
"This is almost certainly a virus, and it is highly contagious,
through direct skin contact or airborne particles. It seems that
it infects all humans, and all of us act as carriers. The only
effect we have observed so far is the Lolita Syndrome itself,
which seems to affect girls from about age five through puberty.
But even of the infected girls, our guess is that only about half
will show the Syndrome. It looks like symptoms only occur after
at least two weeks of infection. It is safe to assume that
incubating cases have spread throughout the world through airline
travel. Stopping the spread of this virus will be virtually
impossible."
 
The now infamous blogger Angry Scientist predicted the appearance
of the Syndrome and its basic properties. He didn't describe the
symptoms, but he clearly stated his goal: He wanted the world to
confront reality as he saw it: that pedophilic attraction in men
was far more common than people think, that it is not inherently
a bad thing, and that society should stop discriminating against
men merely for the attraction. The Syndrome matches his goals
very well.
 
The Lolita Syndrome's primary symptom is severe nausea and
vomiting. It also involves a maturation of the girl's vagina and
vulva, though it doesn't cause the onset of puberty itself. This
maturation is rarely noticed by the girl before the digestive
symptoms begin, but it must begin at least a few days earlier.
 
If untreated, mortality is over 90%. There is only one effective
treatment, and it has been a profound shock to society. If a man
has sexual intercourse with the girl, mortality is near zero. One
of the most vile, heinous crimes known to humanity is necessary
to treat a pandemic.
 
Simply depositing semen in the vagina is ineffective, though the
semen is necessary. A shallow penetration and quick ejaculation
is not enough. It must be a zesty, enthusiastic act of
intercourse. Tentative reports are that the girl cannot be
asleep.
 
"What it looks like," said a researcher who requested anonymity,
"is that the girl has to really know she's being f---ed."
 
There is a considerable window available between symptom onset
and the last opportunity for life-saving treatment: intercourse
two days after the first symptoms has so far always been
effective, and usually the girl will recover if she gets
treatment within three days.
 
If an adult woman were to require intercourse within 48 hours to
save her life, it would be a relatively straightforward matter.
Arranging for a girl to have intercourse is far more difficult.
 
Who can perform an enthusiastic act of intercourse with a
pre-pubescent girl? A pedophile. Parents are now faced with the
task of locating for their daughter a member of the most
loathsome class of humans on the planet and letting him live out
his most disgusting fantasy. In fact, it is more a matter of
convincing him to have sex with the girl than letting him. The
legal system still considers the treatment of this Syndrome to be
a serious crime warranting years or decades in prison. Merely
coming out of the closet will subject him to social ostracism.
 
In fact, no court is going to prosecute a man who saves a girl's
life. But emotional reactions among individuals are far more
complicated. Parents may beg for a pedophile to come forward to
save their daughter, but their feelings of disgust and hatred
cannot be wished away. Mistrust runs deep on both sides and no
one can honestly tell the pedophiles of the world that all will
be well. If a cure is found promptly, people will soon forget the
lifesaving service these men provided.
 
A cause for alarm was the assumption that there are very few
pedophiles. Sexual attraction to pre-pubescent girls is
unnatural, the usual thinking went. Surveys showed that the
typical person thought about two percent of men were attracted to
young girls.
 
The fear seemed justified, as the initial statistics were grim.
In the first two weeks, 85% of girls with the syndrome died.
 
However, mortality has dropped each week, to 72%, 51%, 42%, and
29%. How can society be locating hundreds of pedophiles on a
moment's notice?
 
The answer lies in that term "pedophile" and what it means. One
meaning is a man who commits sex crimes with children. Although
one sex criminal is too many, the actual number of men in that
category is very small. The other meaning is a man who is
sexually attracted to young children. It appears that a
remarkable number of fathers, big brothers, neighbors and friends
of the family find they are able to perform a zesty, enthusiastic
act of intercourse with a small breastless, hipless girl. The
basic sexual attraction required for the act seems to be quite
common.

Although some experts in the field were not surprised to discover
this, it went totally against the narrative that society
accepted: Since the attraction of adult men to pre-pubescents was
only detected in a small handful of men who committed sex crimes,
it must be a very rare inclination. Because men who commit sex
crimes have serious problems with self-control, the inclination
itself was tied to psychological deficiencies. Scientists were
strongly discouraged from investigations that might challenge
that view and even more strongly discouraged from publishing
results that undermined it.
 
Angry Scientist predicted that attraction to young girls was far
more prevalent than the common view, and he was right. This is
not to defend the man, who will go down in history as one of the
most despicable criminals of all time. He already has the blood
of a hundred girls on his hands, and the casualties are sure to
soar into the thousands and beyond. Although it is harder to
quantify and the effects will not be fully apparent for decades,
the majority of girls will presumably suffer psychological damage
from this premature and unwanted sexual intercourse.
 
Although the government will not comment on an ongoing
investigation, everyone suspects that the most sophisticated
techniques of the NSA are being brought to bear in an effort to
track Angry Scientist's blog posts back to the man behind them.
He has not made any further posts after his famous prediction,
and security experts say it would extremely perilous for him to
do so.
 
There is a general consensus that he is a present or former
geneticist associated with a top secret government biological
warfare program. An agent that causes nausea and vomiting leading
to death makes sense in the context of biological warfare, as
does a microbe that is impervious to known methods of treatment.
Enlargement of female genitalia is a natural part of puberty, so
it is no great surprise that a microorganism can be crafted to
trigger it prematurely. The most difficult innovation -- many
scientists would have said it was impossible -- was one where a
robust act of intercourse with the girl would cure her. Semen
alone does not suffice, and the girl must perceive that
intercourse is happening. That is a very difficult achievement.
 
There is some tantalizing evidence that the virus may inhibit the
transmission of STDs, but other scientists say it is far too soon
to speculate on that.
 
 
---------------------------------------------------------

"The Emotional Fallout"
 
Joe, Ellen, and their 9-year-old Katy are a family in the
suburban New York area. (We have changed their names for this
article). Katy was among the first thirty girls to contract the
Syndrome.
 
"Our doctor told us that it was very likely to be fatal and that
getting a man to have sex with Katy might save her life. We
couldn't think of anyone outside the family, so I decided to do
it myself," says Joe. "It was an agonizing decision. I remember
thinking I must be down the rabbit hole with Alice, and that was
the only thing that let me actually go ahead and do it."
 
He naturally wanted to minimize the impact on Katy. "I first had
intercourse with my wife but didn't finish. What I did with Katy
was gentle and quick." But it didn't work to stop her vomiting.
 
Then Joe made a connection. "I thought about Angry Scientist's
post and decided to work not from the medical evidence we had at
the time but from what I thought he was aiming for. I tried to
imagine how a pedophile would fantasize about having sex with a
girl and tried to live out that fantasy." That worked. He
reported it to the medical authorities and it was immediately
relayed to the families of the affected girls. Scores of girls
owe their lives to his intuition and his courageous willingness
to carry out the experiment.
 
"I never dreamed of sex with a girl, Katy or anyone else. But
suddenly when the need arose, I found I could perform. What I did
used to be called incestuous child rape. I played along with the
script Angry Scientist wrote for me. If it was just acting, I
could shrug it off. But it wasn't just playing a part. My body
responded sexually. And although it's hard to admit it, at some
important levels, I enjoyed it."
 
He pauses to reflect. ""So who am I? Could I have managed to have
sex with a boy -- or, let's say, an animal, to pick an outrageous
case -- if that was what it would take to save my daughter? I
don't think it would have worked. There was some underlying
attraction there."
 
"What I do know is that my Katy is alive," he says, squeezing the
girl seated to his right between him and his wife. She smiles at
him; it looks like the smile of a girl who loves her daddy.
 
Joe is rare in being willing to look at himself so honestly and
share what he finds.
 
"It's hard, I admit it," says Ellen. "What mother wants to hear
that her husband is planning to abuse her daughter -- to rape
her? What kind of a man could do that?" She paused, looking
lovingly at Joe. "A very, very good man, of course. But feelings
don't just go away because they ought to."
 
We were reluctant to have Katy present at the interview at all,
but Ellen and Joe urged us to. Katy didn't pretend to actively
want to talk, but she said, "If stuff I say can help other girls
then I want to."
 
Her take on the whole issue: "It was weird. Weird it had to
happen and a weird experience, the part with my daddy. But it
didn't hurt. It fit," she said, giggling. "I knew my daddy was
trying to save my life. Everyone wants to talk about that part of
it. The part I remember is how awful it was to be so sick, all
that throw-up and worse when there was nothing to throw up any
more. And I was scared to death I was going to die. The sex part
was weird but it wasn't a big deal."
 
The young lady has a very sensible perspective. It's better to
have intercourse than die, and if there is no tissue damage or
pain, it's an even easier call. Yet children often minimize the
impact of sexual abuse at the time. It's only later that the
consequences become clear.
 
Everything in Katy's family is out in the open and it's a story
with a happy ending.
 
There are plenty of other stories, and the range of heartbreak is
sobering.
 
There are fathers who didn't try, for a variety of reasons. Some
felt it just wasn't right. Some thought it couldn't possibly
help; it made no sense. Some were afraid of going to prison. Some
thought they couldn't perform with a girl that young, but now
wonder if maybe they could have. Were they just fundamentally
unable to, or could they have discovered that part of themselves
if they were brave enough to look within? Some tried but couldn't
get or keep an erection. Some penetrated but could not ejaculate.
Some succeeded in completing the act but found it wasn't enough,
apparently because it wasn't enthusiastic enough.
 
There are men who tried to forcibly rape their daughters but the
girls were too strong for them and died. There are mothers who
wouldn't help hold their daughter down to be raped and will
forever wonder if they could have saved her.
 
Of course it's not all fathers. There are plenty of brothers,
neighbors and family friends. Many men got a tearful call from a
distraught mother or father asking if they could please try to
have sex with their 6-year-old. Some just laughed and hung up. If
they had taken the time to search the web and find that the
unbelievable was real, would it have ended differently? Some just
didn't want to get involved. Many were afraid of going to prison.

All have to wonder if some little girl might still be alive today
if they had chosen differently.
 
Yet of course in a great many cases -- well over half by now --
the girl found a man for that life-giving act of enthusiastic,
zestful intercourse, and she is alive. Although far happier
outcomes, in each of these cases there is a man who is asking
himself whether he's a pedophile, and if so what that means about
him and the world he lives in.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Legal And Moral Issues"
 
Says Fred Paulson of Harvard Law School, "The simplest case is
clear enough. If the girl says it's OK, if both her parents say
it's OK, and if she has the Syndrome, then it's OK. A crime
committed to prevent something worse from happening isn't a
crime. If it's what a reasonable person would consider a good
faith effort, then there's no problem.
 
"If the girl refuses and struggles, then it's less clear. If what
a man is providing is viewed as an accepted medical prescription
for a life-threatening disorder, then it's justified if there is
no better alternative. Sometimes children have to be subdued to
receive medical treatment. But of course it doesn't feel that way
emotionally. It's hard for anyone to watch a young girl being
forcibly raped, even if it is to save her life.
 
"Seven weeks ago the idea that intercourse with a child was a
medical treatment was ludicrous. Today it is firmly established.
Of course it's a medical treatment unlike any other in history,
and a treatment that until this moment was always a terrible
crime when 'administered' to a minor."
 
There are some conservative religious thinkers and some secular
ethicists who think underage sex to cure the disease is flatly
and absolutely immoral. The Syndrome itself is evil, probably a
human creation, and yielding to its demands is itself evil. We
should not abandon our most cherished principles, they say. It's
akin to giving in to terrorist demands. They suggest we keep the
girls comfortable as they die with dignity. They are a minority.
 
Some people feel serious moral qualms but don't want their
daughters to die, and they find a way to assuage their guilt a
little. A social worker in Atlanta said, "There was the mother
who explained to her 7-year-old that she had this disease and if
nothing was done she'd probably die of it. Having sex would cure
her, but having sex was against their family's religious beliefs.
And by the way, that teenage boy two houses down wanted to know
if she'd come over to play -- even if she was throwing up."

But some parents stick to their guns. Hundreds of trusting
6-year-olds died because their parents refused treatment they
considered contrary to God's law. But the secular law that
governs our society does not allow withholding treatment from a
child on religious grounds. No charges were pressed in the early
days. As the medical situation has become crystal clear, there is
a strong movement gathering steam to prosecute parents who don't
get their daughters what they need.

There has been local vigilantism as well. When a girl from a
morally conservative family goes home from school with a stomach
bug, anxious neighbors call and ring the doorbell. In over a
dozen cases, neighbors who didn't receive satisfactory answers
broke into the home and forcibly removed the girl, then arranged
for a man to rape her to save her life. No District Attorney has
chosen to prosecute neighbors for such behavior, and no one
believes any jury would convict them. 
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Getting Organized: The Center"
 
We're down to 29% mortality from the Syndrome. That's much better
than it was, relieving for the moment fears of a species-ending
cataclysm. But it is still extremely high by public health
standards. That number needs to be a lot closer to zero before
anyone will say we are facing anything other than a Holocaust.
 
A girl gets the Syndrome. She has 48 hours to get treated. What
should her parents do?
 
The closest place to look for someone to treat the girl is right
at home. Most girls have a father or father figure; many have a
big brother. They care, and they're motivated. If they're
willing, are they the right choice?
 
Since we are talking about sex and we all agree incest is bad,
the initial conclusion is that it's best if the man is not the
girl's father or brother or other close family member. On the
other hand, the prospect of sex is often frightening for the
girl, and it's worse since she is feeling very ill to begin with.
Having a man she knows and trusts can make it easier. What's
unclear is whether from the girl's point of view this is sex or
therapy. "If you needed to apply ointment to her labia," said one
public health nurse, "her father would be preferable to some
strange man. In her head, is this ointment or is this sex? We
don't know." With a bit of bawdy humor, she adds, "Of course, to
be effective he has to apply that kind of ointment with a zesty
enthusiasm, not clinical detachment."
 
Perhaps there is no suitable male relative, or perhaps the family
wants to consider that as a last resort. Where should parents
turn? Calling friends and acquaintances is an awkward, chaotic
business, as distraught parents found out in the early weeks of
the Syndrome.
 
In New York an agency has been launched, one that collects the
names of men willing to have intercourse with girls, at least
under some circumstances. The agency's job is to match girls with
men. Other cities are quickly following suit, though their eyes
are fixed on New York, hoping to learn from the experience of
this pioneering program.
 
The official name is the "Intercourse Alleviated Gastrointestinal
Distress Syndrome Resource Center". Informal names range from the
obscure "Humberts For Hire" (referring to the man who abused
Lolita in Nabokov's famous novel) to the crude "Pervs 'R Us" and
"Daughterfuckers". The name people can manage in polite
conversation is "IAGDS Center."
 
Dr. Ruth Rogers is the coordinator. She spoke at some length
about the issues they face.

"Parents don't want the guys we usually think of as pedophiles.
That is, they don't want the guys from the sex offender registry,
and they don't want the sort of strange or stunted personality
that might lead a man to commit a sex crime with a child.
Everyone should know we have no men who fit that profile at the
Center. There are very few of them to begin with, and they mostly
aren't volunteering anyway.
 
"What parents want are 'normal' guys who think they can step
forward and have 'zesty, enthusiastic' sex with young girls, as
the phrase goes. It helps if they have some experience with girls
that age to know how they think.
 
"The main source of great candidates we have are close relatives
of some other girl who's the right age to be affected. Fathers
and big brothers are the most common. In fact, we'll offer any
girl red carpet treatment if she has a male relative who
volunteers.
 
"Now, men who are in a committed partnership have a problem
because the usual understanding is that they aren't supposed to
be having sex with anyone else, even if it is a little girl. Some
wives and girlfriends are understanding on that point and some
aren't. Unattached big brothers and uncles are often the ideal
candidates.
 
"One group of men we're looking for is those who have known all
along they have an attraction to young girls. They would never
have gone near a girl because they're decent guys, but they might
fantasize. Maybe they've gone onto questionable websites or
downloaded some borderline photos, maybe from child modeling
sites. They're reluctant to come forward because they don't want
to attract the attention of the police. Law enforcement in New
York is now prohibited from initiating an investigation of
someone because they have contacted the Center. Some people think
we shouldn't let these people near our daughters, but I think
it's hypocritical. If a man suddenly realizes now he's attracted
to young girls, they'll call him a hero, but if he realized it
before the attraction became useful, then he's still a monster?
That makes no sense.
 
"Then there's the fact that there's more to this than finding a
guy for every girl who needs one. The truth about human sexuality
is that it's merely nice if the female finds the male attractive,
but it's essential that the male find the female attractive or it
won't work physically. And while people are shocked to learn how
many men can have zesty intercourse with young girls, many of
those men are still primarily oriented to grown women, so they're
pickier about the girls. It's easier to find a man for a
10-year-old than a 5-year-old, and girls also vary in appearance
and build. So as soon as a girl's family calls in, we quickly get
some video of her and send it out to our male volunteers. They'll
tell us if they're interested, and then we give the girl's
parents those men to choose among.
 
"It's embarrassing -- but more to the point, alarming -- when it
takes us a long time to get anyone at all for a girl's family to
look at. But thankfully we do have some men who really are
attracted to just about any girl with a pulse," she added with a
mournful laugh.
 
"Because the men see the girl before she or her parents see him,
they have some confidentiality. Whenever possible we have the
parents and daughter come to us, to sit at our terminals without
any cell phone cameras, so there are no pictures of these guys to
plaster on the internet. If they can't come in, they have a
smaller pool of guys to choose from.
 
"Some parents just pick a man for their daughters. Giving the
daughter a veto if she dislikes the video footage of the first
guy is OK, conceivably twice is OK, but letting her choose from a
dozen isn't good. She's going to have a negative reaction to the
whole thing which will sometimes carry over to every man she
sees.
 
"And finally, not all guys can perform all the time with all
girls. We get feedback from both the man and the girl's family
after every meeting we arrange. We make a note of matches that
don't work. There are those few go-to guys we know to contact if
a couple other men can't get the job done."
 
There was one issue I wanted to raise with Dr. Rogers. "What do
you think of those men setting up ads on Craig's List?"
 
She answered easily, but she couldn't quite mask her expression
of distaste.
 
"It's inevitable, as long as we have a shortage of men. Supply
and demand. I would caution anyone considering that option that
there is no licensing or screening. We are debating what to do
about payment in our own operations. If a family waits 48 hours
to contact us, maybe they should be paying us $10,000 -- those
calls are a serious strain on us.
 
"What I think lies at the heart of the payment question otherwise
is that fundamental distinction: is it sex, or is it therapy? We
expect to pay money for medical treatments -- or expect our
health insurance will. We don't expect to pay for sex -- at least
females don't!
 
"Another question is not whether the family pays but whether the
men get paid. What is their motivation? Sexual desire necessarily
plays at least some part. A selfless desire to save lives might
be involved. Should financial reward also play a part? Different
parents may have different preferences if it was totally up to
them. To what extent should we care what's going on in the man's
head? It's complicated."

Dr. Rogers certainly has a great many issues to consider, and
enormous time pressure. The number of girls needing treatment is
growing exponentially.


============================================================
Chapter 3
 
Naomi died. Naomi wasn't a close friend of Cathy's, but she was a
classmate. She was the first girl to die who they had known
personally. Cathy was pretty shaken up about it, but it troubled
Jon and Alison too.
 
Naomi's mother Judy always seemed a little peculiar. She was
raising Naomi alone and worked long hours. It was Naomi herself
who called her friend Anne when she had been sick for over a day.
Anne wasn't sure what to do, but after a couple hours told her
mother Phoebe. Phoebe tried calling Judy, but she didn't answer
her cell phone and Naomi's phone connected her only to Naomi, who
tearfully confirmed her situation. Phoebe was reluctant to
intervene, but finally decided to pick Naomi up and bring her to
their house.
 
They contacted the IAGDS Center, which insisted on a delay
because they weren't Naomi's legal guardians and they hadn't
allowed long enough to reach Judy. This delay turned out to be a
misunderstanding about how long Naomi had been experiencing
symptoms.
 
Phoebe's husband Paul detected in himself no glimmer of sexual
interest in young girls. The two of them bravely started making
calls to acquaintances. They tried to describe Naomi accurately,
noting her pudginess. After four attempts Paul found a colleague
who agreed to try. Naomi was less attractive than usual from her
ordeal of vomiting and that man couldn't manage to get it up and
left, complaining that Paul had misrepresented the girl.
 
When the agency's time requirement had been met, it was an
especially busy time and there was a four-hour delay. The first
man who could make it found Naomi to be lethargic, barely waking
up for her weak retching fits. He reported the situation back to
the agency immediately and did his personal best. The agency sent
two more men in a hurry. All managed to give the girl an
energetic fucking, but it was too late.
 
As they settled into bed that night, Jon spoke.
 
"I'm thinking maybe I ought to volunteer," he said.
 
He could sense Alison stiffen. "I was afraid you'd do that before
long."
 
"Naomi died -- girls are still dying all the time."
 
"You couldn't have saved Naomi."
 
"There was that four-hour delay. There ought to be plenty of men
so that isn't an issue."
 
Alison was silent a moment. "And this is all altruism, right?
Just for the sake of the girls?"
 
"Yes!"
 
"It's a chore to have an orgasm?"
 
"Well, not usually, of course. But if a girl is kind of ugly or
really sick, it might be."
 
Another pause. "Jon, when you were having sex with Cathy, what
were you thinking? I mean, what was it like?"
 
"I was worried. I was really wishing I didn't have to do it. The
first time, I was thinking of you." That wasn't entirely true,
but it was close enough. "The second time -- you know, I was
desperate, so I did everything I could -- kissing, fondling her
everywhere, you name it."
 
"Yeah, but how did you feel about it?"
 
"I don't know. It's really complicated. I love Cathy with all my
heart. She's got a beautiful body -- well, even if she were a boy
it would be beautiful, right? A child's body. You know what I
mean about that. It felt like that kind of love was part of it,
and then of course she needed sex."
 
"But you had to feel it too, right? You had to *want* to fuck
her? You don't get a hard-on when someone's repulsive, right?"
 
"Cathy's not repulsive!"
 
"No, but she ought to be sexually repulsive. Especially to you!
Why would you want to do it to a little girl! Your daughter no
less!"
 
"So you wish I hadn't done it to her?"
 
"No, no, of course not. It's just... Now you want to go fuck
other little girls who aren't your daughter, who aren't your
responsibility. What kind of a guy would do that?"
 
"A guy who cares about the lives of innocent children!" he
answered indignantly.
 
"Yeah, but what kind of a guy *could* do that? Go looking for
it?"
 
"Oh, I see." John continued heatedly, "Me. A pervert. A sick,
disgusting man who deserves to be castrated, of course. Is that
what you want me to say?"
 
"No. I don't know! It's just..."
 
"Listen, I think Angry Scientist had a very good point. Not that
I don't hate the guy -- I can't imagine a torture slow and
painful enough to give him what he deserves. But I think he was
right about a couple things. Do you hate gay men?"
 
"Of course not."
 
"Gay men like to have other guys jam their cocks into their
butts. Or -- you're a woman. Lesbians like to lick out other
girls. The idea makes your skin crawl, right?"
 
Alison didn't answer -- they both knew how she felt about that.
 
"But it's just the way they are. So pedophiles like the idea of
fucking little girls. They never actually did it, of course,
except the sickos. And guys like me who love women, we never
thought about it. But now Angry Scientist takes naked little
girls, sticks their wet little twats in front of us and says, 'If
you don't fuck her she's gonna die!' And so in some guys anyway,
it opens something up. Our bodies say, 'OK, that sounds good!
Let's go for it!' And judging from what happened with Cathy, I
might be one of them."
 
Alison didn't answer that outburst, but before long Jon felt her
hand on his pajamas between his legs, lightly swirling. How many
years had it been since she'd initiated sex? Something about it
troubled him, but he put it out of his mind. At the moment, his
wife was suggesting sex, was trying to get him hard, and she was
succeeding. He turned and kissed her, and she removed her hand
from between his legs. And from that point on they were engaged
in the specific ritual of their sexual encounters. They kissed
for a little, then stopped to get fully undressed. He sucked on
one breast while his fingers descended between her legs. At
somewhere between five and ten minutes, she whispered, "I'm
ready" in a way that he had decided over the years meant she was
about to do him a big favor. He then got out of bed and climbed
onto the armchair in the corner of the bedroom. He pushed up on
the tile of the dropped ceiling and reached in to find a packet
of condoms. Alison felt it was inappropriate to leave them
anywhere Cathy would find them even if she went snooping. He
returned to the bed, sheathed himself in rubber and lay on his
back. He suddenly realized that that condom was probably expired.
He usually made a point of replacing them every six months so
that would never be an obstacle to sex if she yielded to one of
his tentative advances. But in the wake of Cathy's sickness it
had slipped his mind. But he certainly wasn't going to raise the
issue now.
 
He lay on his back and felt the usual excitement at seeing his
wife rise above him and then descend, engulfing his cock on the
way. She had gotten thicker around the middle since Cathy was
born, though at least she hadn't ballooned out like some of those
other mothers he knew. She was still plenty sexy, and he adored
the feeling of her warm and wet vagina caressing him as she went
up and down. His role was to stay still and lightly caress her
breasts, hips, and back. After half an hour of moving in the way
that was just right for her, he felt her motions get more intense
and focused, punctuated with little gasps, and then he knew by
her one loud gasp that she had come. She let herself flop down
onto him, making little sighs of contentment.
 
He was now free to some extent. He could either hold her pelvis
up off his a little and thrust away, or he could turn her over
and do her in the missionary position. Tonight he opted for the
latter. When she was settled comfortably on her back with legs
spread, he plunged into her again and began a vigorous fucking.
She lay back, relaxed and motionless, patting his back
absentmindedly. Jon had to be careful not to go in too far or it
would hurt her when he gave her a deep bump. And he knew he'd
better finish up in five minutes or so because she would get
tired of it -- sore, she sometimes said. He let his excitement
build to orgasm and pulsed the tip of the condom full of his
semen. It really did feel very good. As soon as he was finished
coming, he followed the routine Alison had dictated years before,
withdrawing and going straight to the bathroom to dispose of the
condom and wash his penis and hands, lest any sperm cell
accidentally end up where it shouldn't.
 
By the time he returned, Alison was dressed in her pajamas once
more, Jon followed suit, and they lay down to sleep.
 
Usually in the wake of sex he fell asleep quickly, but this night
something troubled him. Why had Alison initiated sex just then?
Because she felt threatened.
 
When their frequency of sexual intercourse had fallen well below
what he would have liked, he had waited a year. Seeing no sign of
recovery, he suggested that perhaps every couple weeks or so she
could let him get her excited enough to have sex for his sake,
even if it wasn't her very favorite thing to do. She had reacted
with horror, saying that sex was only appropriate when both
people wanted it from the bottom of their hearts; anything else
was akin to prostitution.
 
But now, when the act addressed her own insecurities, this
from-the-depth-of-the-soul criterion no longer applied. He felt a
surge of anger. But he also felt sleepy and sexually satisfied,
and his anger dulled.

He was going to volunteer for sex with the girls, though. He
reflected with a touch of bitterness that he would probably get
more sex at home as well as sex with the girls. And he was going
to enjoy the sex with the girls. He was going to enjoy it a lot.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
When Jon arrived at Tina's house, he could hear her retching. Her
mother let him in but hurried back to her daughter. When the
mother reappeared, she said, "Thank you so much, Mr. Ferber,
thanks so much for doing this for us."
 
The video of 10-year-old Tina had shown a smiling girl with brown
hair and brown eyes, not remarkable in any dimension or
characteristic. What he saw upon entering her bedroom was a pale
face, those brown eyes wide open with fright. She was in the
fetal position, clutching a sheet up around her neck.
 
He sat on the side of the bed and rested his hand on her
shoulder.
 
"Hi, Tina. Sorry you're feeling so bad. I'm so sorry we have to
do this -- it's not anything a girl your age should have to do,
right?"
 
Tina nodded.
 
"But it's to save your life, right?"
 
Tina nodded again, but tears welled up in her eyes.
 
Jon undressed without fanfare. His cock was not hard.
 
"Let's see what we've got under that sheet," he said playfully.
 
She didn't pull it back herself and she didn't exactly let go
when he tugged on it. She let him tug it out of her hands.
 
Although he knew what to expect, he was still shocked -- and
thrilled -- to see the naked girl beneath the covers -- bare legs
and arms, of course, but also naked chest, and no panties! Her
cute little labia marked her without question as a girl. And he
wasn't going to just steal glances at those labia, he was going
to explore within, explore deeply, and satisfy his profound
curiosity -- and desire.
 
As Jon feasted his eyes, his cock filled with blood. He sat on
the bed next to her. There was a mismatch, however. The body
below was luscious and inviting, but the face was frightened and
anxious. She was even trembling a little.
 
He wondered how he could make it better for her. "Tina, we have a
bunch of choices. You are a beautiful girl, you know. Could I
kiss you? That would be fun. But it's only if you want -- you
don't need to. Yes?"
 
The girl shook her head slightly.
 
"OK, no kissing. Could I touch your chest? I love touching a
girl's chest, but it's totally up to you."
 
The girl shook her head again.
 
"You've got to lie on your back, you know," he said, obviously
needing to get her out of the fetal position.

She straightened out slowly and tentatively.

"OK, let's see what we've got down here," he said, kneeling below
her. He tried nudging her legs apart, but she resisted.
 
"This part you don't have any choice about, I'm afraid," he said
gently. "Not if you want to live. Come on, it's not going to be
so bad."
 
At that, the girl opened her legs a little and let Jon open them
the rest of the way.
 
"You're beautiful down here too," he said.
 
She said nothing.

Engaging her along these lines wasn't working. "You want just the
bare minimum, eh?"
 
The girl nodded.
 
"OK," he said, "but when you think back on it, remember that I
wanted to kiss you and touch you and make love to your body, OK?"
 
He had done his best to deal with the anxious face. Now he felt
no guilt about just focusing on the body. He gently spread her
pussy lips with his fingers, and found that she was wet and
stretchy, just like Cathy. He could slide his middle finger in
easily.
 
"OK, here goes," he said, withdrawing finger and lining up his
cock. Her wet heat caressed his penis tip and heightened his
already intense desire to slide inside. Although she was tight,
her vagina opened to accept his cock as he fed it in, inch by
inch.
 
"That feels so great, Tina, oh wow!" he said. It would be
wonderful if she was saying how great it felt too, but her head
was turned to the side, eyes staring at something on the wall.
 
He lowered himself and began a gentle in and out motion. It would
seem kindest to give some gentle strokes and come quietly. He
could probably do that in under a minute. But...
 
"Well, Tina, it would be great if you were having a good time,
too. Since you're not, I'm inclined to want to just finish up
quickly. But to save your life, they say, you've got to know
you've been fucked, to really know it. So pardon me, but now you
get fucked," he said, realizing he had put a bit of heat into the
last statement. It was thrilling to say it, and he felt no guilt
because it was the truth.
 
Tina turned her head towards him briefly and her eyes flashed
before she turned away again. But was that a trace of a smile on
her face? No doubt about it.
 
His job was to forget about Tina the sensitive girl with
complicated feelings and fuck Tina's smooth-skinned body. He
lowered himself on her, crushing her just a little, and worked
her legs apart just a little more with his knees before beginning
a fast, deep fuck.
 
"Oh, baby, that feels great!" he said. "You're so hot!" He pumped
away, following his natural instinct to get his cock in as far as
it would go. Her vagina was big enough to take him in all the way
-- unlike his own wife, he thought with a flash of annoyance.
 
He wallowed in the joy of the girl's flesh, only glimmers
reaching him of how wrong this would be if her life didn't depend
on it. Ignoring the glimmers, he went on with the joy of fucking,
feeling satisfaction at all levels.

"Oh, Tina, you feel fantastic. They say you've gotta know you're
being fucked. Well you are. You're a fantastic fuck. And I'm
getting ready to ejaculate in you, shoot the sperm out." It was
exciting to talk like that. Ah, what the heck, why not go for
broke. "You've got a hot cunt, and I'm going crazy to cram my
cock deep and fill your cunt with jism." He gave an evil little
laugh.
 
Tina turned her head up to face him, partly indignant but unable
to suppress her smile totally. "You're so bad!"
 
"Yep, Tina -- very, very bad. You're getting royally shafted, and
the sperm's coming soon. You can feel my cock swell just before
it spurts out if you pay attention. Now it's time for radio
silence."
 
He had been holding his weight up on his elbows, but now he let
his full weight down on her and reached a hand under each side of
her rear end and grabbed a butt cheek hard. He let his head rest
on the mattress next to her, getting an excellent view of her
tender young ear. He pounded her with vicious abandon, feeling
his pleasure build deliciously. "Unnh, unnnh, unnnh, unnnh," he
growled over and over. Just as he felt ecstasy overtaking him,
balls tightening and ducts opening, the girl started writhing
above him. Just as he splatted his second pulse of sperm deep in
her cunt he heard a horrid retching noise. Well, that did break
the mood somewhat, but he didn't stop. She needed to know she'd
been fucked. Besides, her cunt squeezed him extra tight when she
retched. He kept his over-swollen cock plunging deep as it spewed
forth its remaining shots. He didn't linger after his ejaculation
stopped, however. He slipped out and got her the basin from the
bedside table to spit out the little bit of vile fluid she had
managed to wring from her poor stomach.
 
"Mr. Ferber, is everything OK?" came an uncertain voice from the
hallway.
 
"Oh yes, we're having a lovely time," he answered as Tina retched
again. He found a squeeze bottle of water and handed it to the
sick girl so she could rinse out, then handed her the damp
washcloth.
 
Then Tina started laughing. Her laugh was interrupted by another
retch, but when it passed she laughed again.
 
Jon was delighted that she found something humorous in the
situation. "So," he said rising. "Do you remember what just
happened? Did I give you a back rub, read you a story, or fuck
the living daylights out of you? Do you remember which?"
 
"Yeah, poopy-head, you fucked me so hard you made me puke!"
 
"Good, good! I hope your body took that all in!"
 
"Yeah," she said, reaching between her legs and retrieving a blob
of post-fuck pussy goop. "Yeah, it took it in. Didn't have any
choice when you peed me full of this junk!" she said, sniffing
it. "Ewwwww!"
 
"Yeah, another way you know you've been fucked. Hey, taste it,
I'm sure it's a hell of a lot better than what you were just
puking out."
 
She did, and made a face. "Can't taste a thing, actually," she
said.
 
As Jon got dressed, the banter died down.
 
"I'm sorry I had to do that to you," he said solemnly. "And I
really hope it worked."
 
She reached out to him from the bed, and he offered his hand. She
squeezed it and gave a shy smile. "Thanks."
 
He turned to go. When his hand was on the doorknob, he felt
something cold and wet hit him in the back of the head.
 
"Poopy-head," said Tina. She had scored a bulls-eye with the
spit-clean-up cloth.
 

============================================================
Chapter 4
 
Jon gulped. The girl in the video looked like she was barely out
of diapers. She was four, actually, just a rather small four. She
looked bedraggled and wasn't very pretty to begin with. The video
played over a still picture of her from a happier day, and she
did have a lively smile.
 
Some man was going to have to fuck this girl or she'd die. The
caption said 27 hours. Girls were almost always safe if they got
an energetic fucking before 48 hours had passed, but everyone
wanted to allow time for things to go wrong.
 
He didn't see how he could get it up for a 3-year-old -- and
that's what she looked like. He shook his head and went back to
surfing the web.
 
But her picture haunted him. He went back to look again. Lisette
was the name. Now it said 30 hours. He played the video again,
and saw something he hadn't before. As the video panned to the
still picture, it passed another picture showing three siblings:
the oldest a brother, the next another girl, and Lisette was the
youngest. That older sister was pretty cute. He felt a surge of
shame at the thought that came to him and quickly got up from the
computer and paced in the hallway. Shame -- but her life was at
stake. Sure, they'd probably find someone else. But just in case.
 
He typed his answer: "Maybe. Is the big sister around too? Might
pull it off if I could play with her too? Sick idea, sorry, but
if there are no better options, I'll give it a try." He'd been
honest. No need to feel bad about things you do with a good heart
and good intentions, he said, remembering a quote from the Dalai
Lama. He put it out of his mind.
 
It was 19 minutes later he noticed a message in his general
email. It had been sent 6 minutes after he sent his.
 
"You're on! Please, please! Thank you! God bless you!"
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Hi, Mr. Ferber, I'm so glad you could come! Thank you so much! I
don't know what we'll ever be able to do to repay you," gushed
Mrs. Callahan.
 
"Whoa, hold it, thanks, it's nice to be appreciated, but let's
wait to see if we can get this to work."
 
"Lisette's in the bedroom, and she's not feeling so great. But
here's Michelle."
 
Michelle was 7, hardly a big girl herself. But she was healthy
and cheerful and as cute as the picture promised.
 
"Hi, Michelle," he said kindly.
 
"I spoke with Michelle about what you suggested, and she said
she'd be happy to do anything to help save her sister. But --
what did you have in mind?"
 
Jon hadn't scripted anything. "What would you be OK doing?" he
asked.
 
"You mean with private parts and stuff?"
 
"Yeah," said Jon, shame washing over him. What was he doing
blackmailing a girl into letting him abuse her?
 
"You can fuck me or stick things in my pussy if you want. Or up
my bum hole. Some of the girls say men like them to lick their
cocks, and I'd do that."
 
"Michelle!" chided Mrs. Callahan, plainly shocked.
 
"Whoa!" said Jon. "I... I don't think I'd want anything like
that."
 
Michelle suddenly looked sad, and Jon came to her defense. "You
know, Mrs. Callahan, with so many of the girls getting this
Lolita virus, they're having to learn an awful lot very fast. And
they talk."
 
"Yeah, I know," sighed her mother.

"It's very kind of you to offer all those things for the sake of
your sister," he said.

"Yes," said Mrs. Callahan, "It's very nice of you." She gave her
daughter a loving squeeze.
 
"Well, let's see Lisette," Jon said.
 
Just then they heard whimpering and a pitiful gagging and
retching.
 
"Coming, Lisette, dear!" said Mrs. Callahan, leading the way.
"Oh, my poor baby!" Michelle followed her in.
 
Jon lingered in the hallway until the patient's stomach had
calmed down again, then entered. She was pale and her eyes dull.
 
"This is Mr. Ferber," said Mrs. Callahan softly. "He's here to
help you get better. He's going to, ummm..."
 
Jon was tongue-tied momentarily too.
 
Michelle was plenty eloquent, however. "He's going to stick his
penis up your vagina, you know, down between your legs. First it
gets really big, then he sticks it in."
 
Lisette just nodded, and Jon found her calm unsettling.
 
"Well," stammered Mrs. Callahan. "Can I leave the three of you to
it? Anything I can get you?"
 
"No, I think we'll be fine," said Jon.
 
"Well!" Jon said into an awkward silence. "First let's see what
we've got here." He stripped Lisette, and she seemed indifferent
to being positioned flat on her back, stark naked with her legs
spread wide. She was a little thing, but there between her legs
was a slit that was not the pale, dormant organ typical of one
her age. It was flushed pink and bigger. As Jon parted her lips,
the moisture was apparent.
 
Michelle was leaning over his shoulder, watching with keen
interest. "Wow, I don't think I'm like that down there!"
 
"No, I'm sure you're not."
 
"That's all wet like that so you can stick it in easier?"
 
"Yeah."
 
Jon stripped. He wasn't hard yet, but that was OK.
 
"Should I strip too?" asked Michelle, taking off her shoes.
 
"No, no, you leave your clothes on for now," he said. She was
wearing a pink dress over white tights.
 
"Wow, your thing is bigger than my brother's!"
 
"Of course, I'm a grown-up. But it's still way too small to stick
in anyone." How easily he echoed the big sister's language.
 
He looked at the pale young thing splayed out below him, his for
the taking. There was her pussy, big enough and certainly wet
enough to accommodate him. He touched it and slid his finger in a
little. Hot, too. Perfect spot for a hard penis. But the overall
picture didn't quite do it for him.
 
But here was Michelle.
 
"Kiss me," he said.
 
"Huh?"
 
"Kiss me, like a girlfriend would," he said.
 
"Oh, OK," said the big girl. She reached in and gave him a big
smooch on the lips but then backed off, waiting for what came
next.

No, kissing wasn't going to do it.
 
He thought about this vibrant girl. She would do anything he
asked within reason. His cock swelled just thinking about it. She
would suck his cock. He could lick her anywhere -- even her
pussy. He could fondle her. He could even spank her, probably.
 
Now he was very hard. He could probably just tell Michelle to
leave, plunge into Lisette and rather quickly get across to her
that she had been enthusiastically and zestfully fucked. And yet
-- maybe it was good to be safe. Or maybe he was a dirty old man.
Whatever.
 
"Wow, it's big now!" said Michelle, spying his organ. "Is that as
big as it gets?"
 
"Yeah, it is. Here's what I'd like, Michelle," he said softly.
"Are you wearing panties under those tights?"
 
"Yeah. Is that OK?"
 
"Sure, it's OK -- "
 
"Can I watch when you fuck Lisette?"
 
"Umm, probably, we'll see." He felt himself get a little harder
at the prospect. "But now, could you reach up under your dress --
carefully, so I can't see, and pull down your tights almost to
your knees, while leaving your panties up in place."
 
"Ummm, sure," she said. Getting the panties to stay up while the
tights came down required some back and forth, but she managed
it.
 
Jon sat on the bed next to the splayed out Lisette, watching
Michelle tugging her clothing up and down under her dress until
she stood still beside him, mission accomplished.
 
Looking into the big girl's eyes, he licked the middle finger of
his left hand, then slowly moved it below the hem of her dress,
then up under the dress and above to the space between her
thighs. The crotch of her tights formed a floor of this little
cave, and his hand felt the heat radiating from the thighs that
formed the walls. He raised his hand until he felt the panty
cloth at her crotch, then he worked his fingers under the elastic
leading to her right leg until they were in the much smaller cave
formed by panties and girl twat.
 
Michelle looked down, glancing up only occasionally with a little
embarrassment. Despite her matter-of-fact offer of anal sex, she
was still new to all this. No boy or man had ever put his finger
where his was now. He found her reaction charming and thrilling.
 
He found her tender little slit and worked her lips apart gently
with index and ring finger, and then poked his wet middle finger
between. He wasn't sure exactly what part of her private girl
parts his middle finger was touching, but it was warm and soft.
 
After a moment of that, he withdrew his finger, said, "Thank
you," and turned to Lisette.
 
His cock was plenty hard to start sliding into her pussy.
 
"Oh!" moaned the little girl as she felt the start of the
invasion.
 
"Sorry, Lisette," he said softly. "You should never have to have
this happen to you at this age."
 
"Oh!" she said again.
 
"Does it hurt, honey?"
 
"Just my tummy," she said, patting the organ that had been
violently convulsing for over a day now. "But it feels funny!"
 
Michelle was jumping up and down with excitement to see this way
of joining two bodies that she had heard so much about but never
seen.
 
"How does she have a hole big enough to fit it all in? Lisette,
now you get to have a zesty and enthusiastic fucking!"
 
Michelle had undoubtedly heard that phrase bandied about. But she
was right.
 
Lisette really was a very small person. Joined as they were at
the genitals, the top of her head didn't reach Jon's chin. But he
bent his head down to be sure she got a loud rendition of his
"Unnnh, unnnh, oooo, ahhhh" sound track.  He clutched her little
hands in his and for several seconds at a time let her feel his
full weight on her.
 
The bouncy girl beside him was something of a distraction,
especially with her tights still down around her knees. He had an
urge to have her expose those little lips he had felt with his
fingertips not so long before, disengage from the  small, pale
thing beneath him and shove his cock up inside of the bigger
girl. But in fact the vagina he was in was well-sized for him,
and Michelle's was way too small and immature.
 
"Enthusiastic fucking, enthusiastic fucking," Michelle kept
saying to herself.
 
He figured a little commentary for Lisette would fill out the
multi-modal evidence that she had really been fucked. And he
loved saying it, too. "You feel so good, Lisette! Mmmmm! OK, I'm
about to shoot you full of sperm. Almost..."
 
His body was entirely enthusiastic at the prospect of ejaculating
in a young girl. The idea that an older girl was chirping with
excitement as she watched helped, as did knowing that he could
fondle that girl anyway he chose, too.
 
"Oooo, ahhh, Yeeesssss!" he said, doing his duty, feeling very
good and very satisfied.
 
He rolled off, panting.
 
"Wow! Cool!" said Michelle. "So, you've saved her life?"
 
"I hope so."
 
He began to dress, thinking of what a wonderful win-win-win
proposition this was. Lisette got her life saved, Michelle got to
satisfy some major-league natural curiosity, and he got to feel
virtuous -- along with a deeply thrilling pleasure and sense of
satisfaction.
 
"Hey, look!" whispered Michelle. He turned, and she stood, tights
and panties down around her ankles, holding her dress up with
both hands. The little twat he had gently fondled earlier was now
on display. "You like it?"
 
"Oh yes, I like it very much."
 
He had a thought. As part of his new volunteer job, he was going
to come in contact with many young girl pussies that had been
enlarged and prepared by the Lolita virus. Should he have a look
at another one for comparison? As long as it was being offered?
 
"Come here," he said.
 
The cloth around her ankles restricted Michelle's walking, but
with a flurry of fast little steps and a giggle she was soon at
Jon's side.
 
"Let me see, just for comparison," he mumbled. Indeed, when he
spread her labia, her vaginal opening looked pale and quiet, both
unused and unusable, just as it should be.
 
He was peering at her from six inches away. She had offered him
access to her private parts to help save her sister's life. As
her recent display showed, she wasn't traumatized about sharing
herself that way. But still, there was absolutely no
justification for what he did next. It served no purpose in
helping save girls' lives. He slowly reached in and licked his
tongue all around the girl's dormant vaginal opening.
 
At the touch of his tongue, Michelle giggled but didn't pull
away.
 
After a few seconds of licking, Jon lifted his head and patted
her butt. "OK, get dressed," he said.
 
He'd enjoyed a perk, he decided. A perk of his job. What kind of
a guy would enjoy a perk like that? He shrugged. A guy like him,
apparently. A pervert. A socially vital pervert.
 
"OK, Mrs. Callahan," he called. The anxious mother hurried to
them. "She should be fine. At least I've done everything a man
could do."
 
"Oh, thank you so much, you're so kind. I wish there was
something I could do to repay you. I was so worried about her and
don't know --"
 
"Hey, Lisette!" said Michelle in a loud voice above her mother's
drone of thanks, "Thank Mr. Ferber for the enthusiastic fucking!"
 
"Michelle!" her mother and Jon chided in unison.
 
"No, thank him!" persisted Michelle.
 
The tired little voice answered, "Thanks for the 'thusiastic
fucking."
 
They all laughed.
 
"She looks better already, don't you think?" Mrs. Callahan said.
 
Jon thought maybe she did.
 
 
============================================================
Chapter 5
 
Jon awoke in the night at 3:25, as the clock told him. Usually he
was a sound sleeper but for some reason he was up, and he could
tell it wouldn't be easy to get back to sleep. He decided to
check his email in the study.
 
There was an urgent message from the agency. Following the link,
he quickly found the girl's entry.
 
It was currently 33 hours since symptom onset, so it certainly
did qualify as an emergency. Her name was Betsy, and she was 8
years old. The picture was of a beautiful blond cherub with a
lithe, athletic body. Jon thought he would really love fucking
her. What a crude, blunt thought. Whatever. His lust was a boon
to society just now.
 
"Agent 300133 performed successful intercourse at 11:41, but
ineffective. Perhaps too gentle.
 
"Agent 190072 attempted more vigorous intercourse at 1:13, but
Betsy suddenly became agitated. She drew blood after a deep bite
on the man's hand and he left for the emergency room without
finishing intercourse."
 
Well, that was enough to give a man pause.
 
This girl needed some help. Not many men were awake at this time
of the night, and he was up for a challenge. And she really was
beautiful. He decided that Agent 300911 would accept the
invitation and try to finish what 300133 and 190072 had started.
He clicked to tell them so, returned to the bedroom and dressed
as quietly as he could.
 
"What's the matter, Jon?" asked Alison from the bed.
 
"There's an emergency," he said. "A girl needs help. It's been 33
hours."
 
"All right," she mumbled on her way back to sleep.
 
Jon didn't share much about his volunteer work with Alison. She
was better off not knowing, something she herself realized though
it didn't stop her from being intensely curious.
 
He packed some heavy work gloves, some nylon rope, a garden
lopper (or whatever it was called) and a roll of duct tape into a
gym bag. Hopefully none of that would be necessary, but she had
sent the last man to the hospital with her teeth. As he
approached the front door with his bag, he imagined himself as a
country doctor heading out on an emergency house call in the
middle of the night. He smiled at the thought and at the contents
of his medical kit.
 
The woman who answered the door was disheveled and dressed in a
bathrobe with traces of throw-up on it. He knew she was Mrs.
Janice Smythe.
 
"Thank God you're here!" she said. "I hope you're better than
that last man. He called my daughter a dirty name! I couldn't
believe it."
 
"The report said that an earlier attempt didn't work, and he was
trying to be more 'enthusiastic and zestful' in his approach."
 
"I don't care -- there is absolutely no excuse for that kind of
behavior!"
 
"OK, sure," he said. He'd cool it with the profanity.
 
"Would you like some tea?" asked the woman.
 
"Ummm, that's very kind, but no thanks. Can you introduce me to
Betsy?"
 
"Oh, sure... this way."
 
The girl was dozing, but leapt up into a crouch on the bed when
she saw Jon. She was in a stained nightgown herself, hair
unkempt, and she regarded him with wild eyes.
 
"Betsy, sweet pea, it's Mr. Ferber. He's going to help you and
you'll be all better in no time. Just lie back. He promises he
won't call you any bad names like that last horrible man."
 
Betsy cowered back on the bed, eyes glued to Jon.
 
"Come on, dear, look at me!" she pleaded.
 
When Betsy's gaze shifted to her mother she calmed down a little.
 
"Now just lie back on the bed, dear, that's good. Close your
eyes." Mrs. Smythe stroked the girl's forehead with one hand and
held her hand with the other.
 
The mother turned over her shoulder and beckoned to Jon with her
eyes. He approached, stripping. Betsy heard his zipper and sat
up, tensing.
 
Then Mrs. Smythe screamed, "Hold still, will you! You have to
hold still! Do you want to die?"
 
That did nothing whatsoever for Jon's erection.
 
"No," whined the poor girl. She lay still again.
 
The mother suddenly resumed her calm, soothing tone of voice.
"I'm going to the living room, now, so you can be in private with
Mr. Ferber. These things should always be done in private," she
said, stealing a glance at Jon's limp cock. "Be a good girl,
now," she cooed.
 
"Be gentle, now," she said to Jon on the way out, shutting the
door behind her.
 
Betsy lay on the bed, unmoving, glaring at him with a stony face.
 
Jon had a bad feeling about this.
 
"Hi, Betsy, this must be an awful time for you -- I'm so sorry.
No girl like you should ever have to go through anything like
this. But -- I have to do it to you. I gather one man already did
it, right? So you know what it's like?"
 
Betsy gave a small nod.
 
"Now pull up that nightgown, honey, so I can see your lovely
private parts."
 
She raised the nightgown around her middle.
 
"Legs apart."
 
There were her luscious girl parts, on full display. That was
where his cock was headed. He idly stroked his cock as it came
slowly to life. He smiled at her pussy. He would soon be parting
those lips with his shaft...
 
"Sorry, honey. Like I said, you shouldn't have to go through
this. But you do. You're very sexy, you know. I've got to touch
you now; just hold still."
 
He sat on the bed and slid her nightgown up further towards her
neck, smiling. His hand glided to her left nipple, and he swirled
his fingers around it.
 
Suddenly she writhed beneath him, grabbed his hand and brought it
towards her snapping teeth. Unlike his predecessor, Jon was alert
to the danger and yanked his hand out of her clutches. Betsy gave
a blood-curdling scream.
 
The door burst open -- evidently Mrs. Smythe had been waiting
right outside. "What did you do to my daughter?" she demanded.
"What made her scream?"
 
"I was just touching her chest, I believe," said Jon.
 
"Liar!" she hissed.
 
"What did he do, honey?" she asked her girl in a solicitous tone.
 
The girl burst into tears.
 
Jon's cock was softening rapidly. Be patient, he told it, be
patient.
 
The approved procedure at this point was for him to leave and
contact the agency. He realized that in his haste he had
forgotten his cell phone. Who knew what procedure the agency had?
Probably someone would come to take statements from all the
parties, and then they would debate what to do. Eventually
someone would fuck crazy little Betsy. But how many hours would
it take? He remembered Naomi.
 
Betsy sagged and began retching weakly. Her mother got her a
well-used cloth to spit into. "There, there, poor dear. Oh, my
darling..."
 
When Betsy had stopped her convulsions for the moment, Jon took
his bag and said, "Could you come with me, Mrs. Smythe, I want to
talk with you privately."
 
The woman followed him to the living room. He opened the bag and
pulled out the items.
 
"What have you -- Oh my God, you think you're going to tie her
up? That's it -- out of my house!"
 
"Yeah, well, I thought maybe I'd have to tie her up, but I've got
a more immediate problem," he said.
 
He shoved the woman, tripping her over his foot, and before she
could react, he had manhandled her to a face down position, his
knee on her back, hands behind her.
 
The woman screamed. "You... you... you'll go to prison for this!
This is assault and battery!"
 
"Would you just shut up? I'm trying to save your daughter's life,
OK?"
 
"You're a psychopath! Look at you... naked like that! Look...
just let me go now and I won't press charges!"
 
Fucking was often done naked, Jon thought to himself. Had that
fact escaped her? He supposed he could have gotten dressed again
while he subdued her.
 
He tuned out her heated threatening babble while he stretched to
retrieve the rope, wrapped it tightly around her hands and did
his best to make a knot -- he was no expert at this. He ripped
off a few feet of duct tape and wrapped it around the rope,
hoping that would stabilize whatever knot he had made. When he
rose the woman immediately began squirming and trying to get up.
He had to fasten her to something -- something sturdy.
 
For some reason what came to his mind was the grab bars built
into the bathtubs of new construction housing. He got her to her
feet and pushed her along to the bathroom, keeping his hands out
of range of her teeth, just in case she had the same inclinations
as her daughter. He shoved her into the tub, then took yards of
duct tape and threaded it through the grab bar and between her
arms and her back. The tape stuck to itself and he made a royal
mess, but eventually he had enough of a sticky mess that it
looked like she couldn't get away.
 
"You can't do this!" she said. "I'll scream!" She was as good as
her word.
 
Hmmm. There were no neighbors close enough to hear, but it might
interfere with his sexual performance. He stuffed a washcloth in
her mouth and held it in position with a yard of duct tape around
her head.
 
He sure hoped he was right about the legality of all this. Time
was short, the crazy mother was going to keep him from treating
the crazy daughter...
 
He gathered up his tools, such as they were, and went back to the
girl's room. She was lying naked face down on the bed, fast
asleep. That wasn't a good sign, given how loud her mother had
just been shrieking.
 
"Betsy! Betsy!" he called.
 
She didn't stir.
 
He reached out to shake her, then in prudence took a moment to
put on his work gloves.
 
The girl did wake up when he shook her, that crazed look back in
her eyes.
 
He thought of gagging her like he had her mother, then realized
she was likely to throw up, and that wouldn't be good
combination.
 
How could he restrain her? She was not a large child. He was sure
he could control her, but not at all sure he could simultaneously
maintain an erection and create the appropriate aura of zest and
enthusiasm for the fucking part. How did rapists manage it? He
figured they probably made threats and the hapless females lay
still in their terror. But poor Betsy wasn't high in the
rationality department just now.
 
One standard technique would be to tie her to the bedposts, but
there were no bedposts. Feeling short of brilliant ideas, he
started with her as he had her mother, grabbing the surprised
girl and pushing her back onto her stomach, careful to stay out
of range of her teeth. She squirmed violently.
 
"Hold still!" he shouted, and she froze. He tied her hands
together behind her back.
 
Now what? He thought he should do her from the rear. It would
make it harder for her to bite. All of the material the agency
provided assumed a missionary position, but he figured it ought
to work this way too.
 
Now it was time to switch from wrestling to sexual arousal. He
relaxed, and as she lay still, he caressed her, feeling the
beautiful soft skin of childhood. He started with her back, but
soon moved to her thighs and butt. There was her feminine
opening. He gently explored with a couple fingers, keeping the
other hand free to control her if she suddenly got violent.
 
"Betsy?" he said. He looked to see that her eyes were open. "I'm
so sorry this has all worked out like this. But you've got this
horrible disease. I have to fuck you. I have to be sure your body
knows you've been fucked. I'm supposed to even be a little rough
about it. You bit the last guy and you tried to bite me. I don't
think you're quite in your right mind, so this is the best I've
been able to think of, OK?"
 
Betsy actually nodded.
 
"Now spread your legs wide, so I can get a good look at you...
Oh, you are sexy all right. Let me feel around down here. Mmmmm.
Now my penis is getting hard again. We're on the right track. Ah,
beautiful little Betsy..."
 
Now to consummate this union. He'd never worked quite so hard to
get laid before, he thought with a smile.
 
Flat on her stomach, he didn't have a good angle.
 
"Let's scoot down on the bed, Betsy, so I can get at you
better... Good girl."
 
With her butt right on the edge of the bed, thighs down over the
edge and stomach flat, he ought to have a better angle, but it
still wasn't good enough somehow. He needed some kind of beam or
ridge or something. He had an inspiration.
 
"Come on, Betsy, we've got to find a better place to fuck."
 
She let herself be pulled to her feet. He guided her out of the
room, staying behind her. She stumbled. He ignored the thumping
and muffled vocalizations from the bathroom.
 
There was the living room sofa with its arms. He bent her over
the arm, stomach down on the sofa side, thighs trailing down to
the floor on the outside. Her butt was up in just the right
position.
 
"OK, sweetie, now I think we're ready." She really did look
luscious.
 
His cock was hard, her pussy was waiting, wet and wide open and
angled just right.
 
"OK, in it goes, sweetie, here..."
 
He worked his cock all the way in. There were no teeth at this
end, just hot, smooth, supple vagina, deliciously lubricated.
 
"How does that feel?"
 
"OK," she murmured.
 
He got into a good rhythm, enjoying the sensations her body gave
his penis. It was exciting doing a girl this way. It was
generally considered a humiliating position, but he had to
protect himself. At some level he also felt like she deserved it
since she had been so bad.
 
He recalled that she had already been fucked. Another man had
successfully ejaculated into the very vagina he was now thrusting
in and out of so vigorously. But that fuck had not been
sufficiently energetic and zestful. The girl didn't have much
time left, and it was his duty to make this as enthusiastic a
fuck as possible. She and her body should be in no doubt
whatsoever that they had gotten soundly fucked. Hmmm.
 
"Betsy," he said. "Do you realize you are being fucked?"
 
"Yeah," she said softly.
 
"Sexual intercourse. Screwing. Humping. Mating. My man cock is up
your little girl cunt, right?" He felt a thrill as he used those
words.
 
"Mmm Hmmm," she said.
 
He squeezed one of her forearms hard with one hand, then the
other, keeping up his fucking motion. He thumped her on the back,
gently at first, then harder. He reached one hand around under
her and found a nipple. "Those are where your boobs will grow
some day, right? Girl private parts. I'm a man and I'm messing
with your boobs. Feel this?" he asked, and pinched her nipple
hard.
 
"Ouch!" she cried weakly.
 
He worked his hands down her thighs and squeezed each one hard,
digging his fingernails in a little.
 
Roughing up the girl, he had lost his concentration a bit, so he
returned to enjoying the sensation of her delicious cunt as it
enveloped his shaft. It felt so very good. A minute went by.
 
"Are you sure you get it? You're being fucked," he said.
 
The girl didn't answer. He looked down and saw she was asleep.
 
"Wake up, Betsy," he said, then followed up with a sharp bark,
"Wake up!"
 
When she still didn't stir, he shook her shoulders. "Wake up!" He
grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked hard. Her eyes flew open.
 
"Owwww!" she cried weakly.
 
"You've got to stay awake so you're sure that you're being
fucked. OK?"
 
The girl's stomach clenched as she puked again.
 
"I'm sorry, sweetie," he said. "I'm so sorry." He was -- but was
sympathy out of line with making sure she knew she had been
fucked?
 
"Unnnnh, unnnnh, unnnnh!" he started growling with each thrust.
 
Betsy suffered through two more stomach convulsions.
 
The distraction gone, Jon turned his full attention back to the
fuck. He had already poked and prodded her a lot, but he thought
of a few more ideas. He reached his hand down to the junction
where his penis was thrusting in and out of her. He slid his
finger all along the edge, pressed quickly and rhythmically where
he figured her clitoris ought to be for a while, moved back and
fingered her butt hole. He thought of sticking his finger in, but
decided he found it too gross. He leaned over and bit her neck,
hard but not enough to draw blood. He chewed on her ear, and said
right into it, "You've been a very bad girl, but I kept with it
and fucked you anyway... You're being fucked, OK?"
 
She nodded.
 
Now it was time to finish her off. He brought his attention back
once more to the exquisite sensations of her vagina as he stroked
in and out. He lengthened his strokes to get his tip in as far as
he could, and felt it finally bump against her cervix just at his
deepest penetration. He sped up.
 
"Aaah, Betsy, you feel so good. Ah, I'm going to shoot my sperm
up into your cunt. Oh, ahhhh, mmmmm, shit, it's great, honey."
 
He grappled her hips with his hands as hard as he could, digging
his fingernails in.
 
"Oh, Betsy, you gorgeous sexy girl, you're getting very
soundly.... FUCKED!" he roared as his first pulse shot deep into
the girl. He kept up his frenzied pounding as he shot over and
over. He kept humping into her urgently long after his penis tip
had oozed out its last drop of sperm. He slowed only when his
erection softened, then pulled out and staggered backward to land
heavily in the armchair.
 
The girl squirmed sideways and rolled off the sofa onto the
floor. Without the use of her hands to guide her, she landed with
a thud on her back.
 
"Oooo, Betsy!" he said, sitting up a little, "Are you OK?"
 
She said, "Yeah." After a few seconds, she raised her head
blearily and managed what was definitely a smile. "I've been
fucked -- enthusiastically and zestfully."
 
Jon smiled. He had a hunch that that level of articulateness
meant Betsy was on the mend. Then his eyes welled with tears and
he started crying. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so sorry." He had
just raped a young girl.
 
"It's OK," Betsy answered from the floor where she lay, still
trussed. "I know you had to."
 
He staggered to his feet and cut the tape to free Betsy's arms,
giving her a hand up. She was unsteady on her feet and sat on the
sofa.
 
But he couldn't face her mother again -- not just then, anyway.
 
He found the family's land-line phone and dialed 911, explaining
briefly what had happened. He went back into the girl's bedroom
and got dressed. Rummaging through her drawers he found some
clean clothes: panties and a random shirt and pair of pants. Her
body would make them dirty instantly, but he felt she needed to
be clothed when the police came. There was a lot of laundry to be
done in any case.
 
He roused her from where she had collapsed on the living room
sofa, though she was more dazed than asleep.
 
"Here, get dressed," he said, then helped the exhausted girl into
her things, one item at a time. Just like he might have done with
Cathy a few years earlier.
 
Betsy looked very tired and pale, but her eyes were clear.
 
"Are you feeling better?"
 
"Yeah, I think so. I know so. Thank ... thank you," she said,
then paused, looking troubled. "Did I bite you?"
 
"No, you just tried. It's the other guy you bit."
 
"Oh, right. Oh no! I'm sorry. Why did I do that?"
 
"I think you weren't in your right mind."

"Oh," she said simply.
 
The story of Betsy and Jon made the news, one more instance of
how the Lolita virus had turned the world upside down. Mrs.
Smythe complained bitterly, but after anyone listened to her talk
for a few minutes, they got a sense of what kind of a person she
was.
 
Jon was a hero.
 

============================================================
Chapter 6
 
Blech. Yuck. Cathy woke in the middle of the night feeling very
sick to her stomach. She had time to make it to the toilet to
puke. Back to bed. She didn't get vomiting bugs very often, so
she immediately suspected it was the same thing she'd had a few
months before. Swiping a finger between her legs, it came up wet
from her vagina. Yep, same.
 
Her mother came in and sat on the edge of her bed. "I heard you
vomiting. I'm sorry. How do you feel now?"
 
"OK for now. But can daddy fuck me and make me better?"
 
"Oh, sometimes you get sick and it's not that bug. We don't know
anyone who's gotten sick with that twice. Not us personally. The
news said it does happen, though..."
 
"I'm wet between my legs too," she said.
 
"Oh, oh really... Hmm. Well, let's let it go for a little while
and see how it develops."
 
"All right," said Cathy. The idea of not throwing up again was
very appealing, but sometimes her mother knew best.
 
Ten minutes later the nausea started building again, and an hour
later her head was once more hanging over the toilet bowl. And
then again an hour later, with less in her stomach each time.
 
Her daddy came to see her.
 
"How are you, princess?"
 
"Awful. Can you fuck me now and make me better?"
 
"You get right to the point, don't you!" he said, amused.
 
Why shouldn't I get right to the point, she wondered. I'm puking,
it hurts, and I want to get better.
 
"I'd be happy to, Cathy. I will if that's what it takes. But it's
not good for a father and daughter to do that. We did it just
that once because it was an emergency."
 
"Yeah, I guess," Cathy said.
 
"There's another man, though. Do you remember Felix? Came to
dinner a few weeks back."
 
"Yeah."
 
"He should be here by late morning. Would you be willing to let
him have sex with you? That way you can feel better and you and I
can just be father and daughter like we're supposed to."
 
"Oh." Her father had cured her before, that was the main thing.
But if she thought about the details, it had been a weird
experience, and she wasn't sure how she'd felt about it. If
someone else could fuck her and cure her, she figured that was OK
too.
 
She doubted the wisdom of the plan as she contemplated the nausea
building within her. Her father could fuck her now, but with
Felix she'd have to wait. She felt worse and worse as the seconds
ticked along agonizingly into minutes, and then she convulsed.
Her muscles already hurt from her first few bouts of intense
spasms, and each whole-body spasm made her blood pound and gave
her a splitting headache. Vile liquid filled her mouth. She made
awful gagging noises.
 
"Daddy," she moaned, as she felt her next vomiting attack
approaching, "Can't you just do it now -- like after I'm sick
this next time -- and then I'll get better right away? How long
is it 'til Felix comes?"
 
She saw him check his watch. "Just two more hours. He thought he
could be here by 11:30."
 
"But I don't want to wait!" she moaned.
 
"Sorry, sweetie, but it will be for the best," he said, holding
her hand.
 
It was nice of him to hold her hand, but what she wanted was to
stop vomiting her guts out.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Here he is!" announced her mother.
 
"Yeah, he finally made it," said her father.
 
"Hi," said Felix as he entered the room.
 
"We'll leave you alone now," said her father, retreating and
closing the door.
 
"You're sexy, Cathy, did you know that? I bet you didn't know how
sexy you are," said Felix as he stripped.
 
Blearily Cathy shed her pajama bottoms and panties to expose
herself.
 
Felix knelt above her, then lowered his head to examine her
privates. "Cool," he said, grinning. "I've never seen a girl
before. Kind of different from women."
 
"'Scuse me," croaked Cathy, turning onto her side and retching
into the basin. Her legs naturally came up into the fetal
position as she puked.
 
"Look pretty from this angle, too!" Felix said, looking at her
bottom.
 
Cathy was getting the definite idea that Felix was a jerk. She
felt a touch more nausea than usual and convulsed five times in
that bout instead of the usual three or four.
 
She rinsed her mouth to spit, then rolled onto her back.
 
"OK," she said.
 
"Oh, baby!" said Felix.
 
She opened her eyes enough to see his lusty smile as he moved up
into position and aimed his penis.
 
She felt it shove into her depths a lot faster than her father
had and drew her breath sharply in surprise. But it didn't hurt.
 
Felix was holding himself up on his hands, his eyes fixed down
between her legs as he plunged in and out.
 
"Oh, ohhh, wow, mmmmm, aaaahhhh, baby girl, you're so hot! And so
small!..." went his commentary as he thrust into her fast and
deep. To Cathy it felt very impersonal. In a couple minutes he
built to a crescendo in terms of his penis rhythm, the tension in
his body, and his monologue. "I'm cumming in a girl!" he
exclaimed when he reached orgasm.
 
He rolled off and lay panting for a minute before starting to get
dressed.
 
"Thanks," said Cathy weakly. He was truly a major-league jerk,
she decided.
 
"Oh, you are most welcome, Cathy! Any time! It was my pleasure!"
 
He was a jerk because when she was vomiting at the start, he
didn't even notice her suffering. Not one 'sorry' or anything. He
never looked at her face while he was doing it. He noted that he
was cumming in a girl without even thinking to mention what
individual girl it might be -- if he even remembered. But if he
could get this fucking vomiting to stop, it would be well worth
it.
 
But the vomiting didn't stop.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Cathy?" said her mother.
 
"Yeah?" managed the exhausted girl.
 
"We don't know what's wrong, why Felix didn't make you better.
Would you like some other men to try? We really don't know what's
going on. It's an awful thing to do, letting those men get
intimate with you. I don't think I'd do it if I were you, but
it's your choice. You might get better anyway -- the news says
it's different than the first time in some ways."
 
What the fuck was her mother talking about? "Of course, yes, more
men, as many as you can get." She didn't give a shit what
happened down in her vagina, she just wanted to stop the damned
vomiting.
 
Three times -- she thought it was three, but had she forgotten
one? -- men came to her room. Once the guy's penis didn't get
hard, and although he hung around for a while touching her and
himself different ways, he never got it into her. She didn't know
what that was about. The other times she felt them enter her,
felt the back and forth motion, heard their gasps and moans. One
clutched her tightly instead of holding himself up.
 
These experiences were interesting, in theory. She might find it
interesting to think about later, but at the moment she was just
an exhausted lump with no interest in anything.
 
The vomiting got less intense and the bouts less frequent, but
she felt just as sick between them. Perhaps her body had just run
out of energy.
 
It was towards dawn, over a day since her ordeal began that she
felt a weight on the bed.
 
"Sweetie?" asked her father.
 
Cathy felt a little flutter of hope. Daddies could make things
all right.
 
"I don't know what helps -- no one does. But just in case --
would you like me to do it to you again?"
 
"Mmm-hmmmm," she managed. "Yes!"
 
Then her daddy did it to her, much as before. He kissed her and
stroked her everywhere. When Daddy did it to her, she felt not
just fucked but loved. She was dimly aware that she would like
the feel of his caresses on all of her different body parts if
she was in the mood to enjoy anything. She even felt a little
surge of love as her daddy reached his peak and ejaculated into
her.
 
Still, his attentions didn't make her get better the way she had
a few months before. Her nausea seemed to be a little better by
the evening of that second day, but she was worried. This thing
killed people! Her parents reassured her that this was a normal
pattern for when the bug came back.

She knew she was better when she woke the following morning and
realized she had slept through the night. Her stomach was still
sore, but she was hungry.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
_The New York Times_.
"Sexually Transmitted Diseases Headed for Extinction"
 
The evidence is very strong that whatever causes the Lolita
Syndrome in girls has one effect in everyone: it completely
prevents the transmission of STDs. New cases of gonorrhea,
syphilis, HIV have all plummeted, perfectly tracking the temporal
and spatial spread of the Lolita Syndrome.

That is a great cause for rejoicing, but no one seems willing to
give Angry Scientist any credit for it. He presumably did it to
remove one more obstacle to promiscuous sex with girls.
 
One anonymous source said, "They've had the technology to do that
for years, if you're willing to release a tailored virus into the
population. If you're willing to take that risk, it's a
no-brainer. There are other ways that issue could be effectively
addressed, too, but pressure by religious conservatives prevented
looking at the other possibilities seriously."

That last statement was corroborated by other sources, and it is
bound to re-ignite some old battles. The idea that we should not
eliminate STDs since they serve as a deterrent to sexual
immorality is one that the public rejects by an overwhelming
margin in opinion polls.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Lolita Redux"
by Karen Hay
 
No one ever said that the Lolita virus would strike once and go
away. Some diseases work that way, and some don't. Yet I had
assumed it would be a one-time ordeal. I assumed that because it
was so terribly difficult to accept the deadly disease and its
cruel cure at all. I couldn't bear to imagine girls needing to go
through this over and over again.
 
They do. They will.
 
The scientific picture gets clearer all the time, and this is
where we stand at six months:
 
About 80% of infected girls contract the Syndrome. In its initial
form, it is about 95% fatal if not treated, but 97% survivable if
treated. As we now know, it's not a cure, it's just a treatment.
 
Somewhere between two and four months after the initial outbreak,
the disease comes back. The statistics for the second time around
are a little different -- only 80% fatal without treatment, 99%
survivable with treatment.
 
There is also a subtle difference in the effect of treatment. In
the initial outbreak, symptoms disappear within an hour or two of
treatment. In the recurrence, symptoms persist for a minimum of
48 hours regardless of how early it is treated.
 
The most recent news: If treatment is provided on a prophylactic
basis, there is no recurrence. This is good news at one level,
bad news at another.
 
These details come together into a clear picture if you make the
assumption that Angry Scientist tailored this virus rather
specifically to encourage pedophilia. (If only this man could
have brought his talents to preventing domestic violence, drunk
driving, even littering -- something socially useful! At least he
has provided us the cure for STDs, but they say that wasn't a
real innovation.)
 
If the recurrence could be treated very quickly with little
discomfort, then a tempting strategy would be to wait until it
struck and only then arrange for a treatment. If treatment after
a recurrence couldn't prevent a high mortality rate, everyone
would opt for prophylactic treatments. But it is somewhere in
between: a very uncomfortable bug with a very small though real
mortality risk. This middle situation creates a tension,
typically with parents on one side and daughters on the other.
 
Parents assume that a 48-hour-bug can't be all that bad --
they've had them before. But the girls know this one really
hurts. Girls who've also had an ordinary flu say an attack of
Lolita Syndrome feels worse, and brain scans show there is more
of the neural activity we associate with pain.
 
Of great interest is the differing views of daughters and parents
on just how distasteful the treatment is. Parents reflexively
make all the old assumptions: the girl's privacy is being
violated by a selfish man fulfilling a disgusting sexual
preference. She is being raped and will suffer for it later in
life.
 
Girls see it differently, and experts say there are good reasons
for it.
 
First, whatever trauma is involved with early sexual intercourse,
the first one is most traumatic, and these girls have already had
one encounter and are pretty much condemned to have many more.
The only question is how many.
 
Second, it is her choice -- the vast majority of girls put up
with the sex willingly and get understandably nervous if it looks
like they might not get it in time.

Third, the man is not primarily seeking his own satisfaction --
he is performing a vital public health service. He is not taking
his satisfaction at her expense. Men are typically very
solicitous of the girl's feelings and apologetic that they have
to do this to her.

Fourth pertains to the man's and girl's sexual experience. He is
enjoying the act -- Angry Scientist arranged it so if he isn't
enthusiastic about it, the treatment will be ineffective.
Pedophilic desire is required. In the old world order, this
desire was without question viewed with loathing and disgust. But
the girls experience something else. They see, feel, hear, and
sense the man's desire in a very intimate way. It is identical to
the sexual desire any of us observes in our partners. It is
positive, a matter of pleasure and affirmation of life. It is no
more mysterious from their point of view than the attraction of
men to grown women or of women to grown men.
 
The situation is not identical to adult-adult sexuality because
the physical pleasure is almost all on one side. But this is not
because the men are unwilling to provide it, it is because the
girls' bodies are not really equipped to experience it. They
understand that it is not the man's fault. However, the girls do
feel how their bodies can give rise to ecstasy in their partners,
something adults will recognize as an important part of good sex.

The girls are not experiencing a total zero in the way of sexual
response. Angry Scientist arranged for the genitals of the
affected girls to enlarge enough to comfortably accommodate a
penis, but he did not give the girls an adolescent's or adult's
sexual desire. Few if any girls reported sexual pleasure from
their initial or follow-up treatments, but a perfectly adequate
explanation is the fact that they are feeling very, very sick.
When receiving prophylactic treatments, most girls are
experiencing a muted form of sexual pleasure. It is muted, but
enough to give a hint of what might lie in their future and of
why the man is enjoying it so much.
 
So, imagine yourself in this position. You can wait to get very
sick, and then submit to a man's sexual attentions so you get
better -- an agonizing two days later. Or you can seek out
regular sex. You will feel a hint of pleasure, and you will know
that your little body -- the one you may feel insecure about --
is giving immense pleasure to a grown man.
 
The brave new world taking shape in our daughters' bedrooms is
horrible. But it is not as horrible as I had feared.

Men with pedophilic inclinations are getting a lot of sex. At one
level, we all find that revolting. What are the sources of the
revulsion? In the old days, a child rapist was taking his own
pleasure in defiance of the law and morality, and at the expense
of the girl: her body's physical integrity, her sense of personal
space and control, and often despite her immediate distress.

The pedophiles who treat and prevent the Lolita Syndrome are not
traumatizing the girl's body. They are saving lives, acting in
accord with the wishes of parents and the girls themselves. And
the act itself is one of pleasure, union, and the creative life
force. It is less violent than something as simple as an
injection with a needle.

It is too early to tell how the girls will react later in life.
Perhaps they will be traumatized, but I think we must guard
against talking them into being traumatized. Their bodies are not
hurt and they are receiving a not-unpleasant form of regular
therapy from kind therapists with good intentions who also enjoy
what they do. Time will tell.


============================================================
Chapter 7
 
"Hi, Mr. Ferber?" The voice was that of a child.
 
"Yes?"
 
"It's Tina. You remember?"
 
"Ummm..." The name was familiar. Jon had had sex with nine young
girls, and this was one of them. Aha! He had it. "The one who
threw the wet cloth at me?"
 
"Oh, yeah, I did. I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?"
 
"Of course, Tina. How are you today?"
 
This was the first time one of his young mates had called him
directly. Ida's mother had contacted him and asked him to attend
a therapy session. The prospect made him uncomfortable, and the
agency had confirmed that he was under absolutely no obligation.
But he wanted to be helpful; he realized he also liked the idea
of seeing the girl when she was looking and feeling well. Ida
told him she was angry at him and although he had an internal
reaction of 'Hey, I was saving your life!' he kept it to himself.
He listened patiently and said he understood. Ida's anger didn't
seem to run very deep. She smiled and gave him a hug at the end
of the session.
 
When Hannah's parents called suggesting the same thing, he
readily agreed. Hannah didn't seem upset with him at all. She
giggled a little when he appeared. Perhaps the therapist was just
making sure there was no problem, or perhaps she was trying to
get the girl to discover how angry and upset she was -- whether
she was or not.
 
But this was Tina herself on the phone.
 
"I'm fine. Ummm, did you mind helping me?"
 
"No, Tina, I was happy to do it for you," he said, smiling into
the receiver.
 
"Well, you know how I'll get sick again? I wondered if you'd be
willing to, you know..."
 
"I'd be delighted to, Tina," he said, feeling a glow between his
legs. "It's very grown-up of you to call me yourself instead of
your parents."
 
"Oh yes, well, thank you! Could you come over after school, like
3:30 today?"
 
"This afternoon? That's not so good, because I've got an
appointment here at the office. The evening would be more
convenient."
 
"Oh, well, how about tomorrow afternoon?"
 
Jon got a hunch. "Tina, do your parents know you're calling me?"
 
"Ummm, no, not really."
 
"Have you talked with them about it?"
 
"No... I'm embarrassed to."
 
Jon was touched that she felt more comfortable talking with him
than her own parents.
 
"Would you like me to talk to them?"
 
"No! That would be SO embarrassing!"
 
"OK. But it seems you could talk with them. Are you having sex
with anyone else?"
 
"No!"
 
"Have they mentioned anything about getting a partner for you so
you don't have a relapse?"
 
"No."
 
"It seems very reasonable you wouldn't want to get sick like that
again. Why don't you ask them?"
 
"You think they'd listen?"
 
"Of course."
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Hello, Mr. Ferber?"
 
"Yes, that's me."
 
"This is Mr. Vogel, Tina's father?"
 
"Oh yes, hello Mr. Vogel. Your daughter called me the other day."
 
"So she told us. Listen, Mr. Ferber. In the future would you
kindly not make suggestions about Tina's condition or treatments?
Leave that to her parents?"
 
"Oh, certainly. She called me --"
 
"Yes. She had no right to do that. I'm sorry she troubled you."
 
"Oh, it was no trouble. I've been interested in how she's doing.
She said you hadn't talked with her about getting a follow-up
treatment."
 
"Mr. Ferber, that is none of your business. You're hardly someone
to give objective advice, now, are you? If we want the services
of someone like you, we'll let you know, OK? Is that understood?"
 
"Yes, Mr. Vogel, I understand."
 
"OK. Goodbye, then."
 
Jon was annoyed. He wanted the best for their daughter. It
sounded like they weren't going to let her get a prophylactic
treatment at all. Was his advice biased? No, he would have given
her the same advice if there was no chance he would be the one
administering the treatment.
 
Oh well, it was best not to get involved. He had signed up to
appear on request to fuck girls zestfully and enthusiastically,
not to develop an ongoing relationship with them.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
Two months later he received another call from Tina. She was
clearly upset, but he cut her off firmly before she had said more
than a few words, explaining what her father had told him.
 
A few days later he received a letter in the US mail. An
old-fashioned letter, hand-addressed with stamps. It had no
return address, but as he began reading the neat girlish
handwriting, he knew who it must be. Flipping to the end, he saw
it signed "Tina". Should he throw the letter out unread? Tattle
to her father that she had contacted him again?
 
"Dear Mr. Ferber, don't tell my daddy I'm writing you because
he'd be really mad. But I don't know who to turn to. He was mad I
talked to you and said he'd get me treatments to save my life but
not just to keep from getting sick. Then I got sick last week,
and it was awful! It was so gross, and it hurts! And every time I
threw up, I thought that I wouldn't have been if you'd done it to
me before. I wanted them to call you but they said no way. This
other guy came and it was OK I guess but I wanted you because I
knew you and I know you care about me. I don't want to get sick
any more like that! Help me! Tina p.s. here's my secret email
tinapuppy7@glivego.com"
 
Poor girl! What should he do? Telling her father was not an
option. Somehow not responding at all wasn't an option. The very
least he could imagine doing was saying, "I'm so sorry, but I
can't help you."
 
This was not the sort of thing he could discuss with Alison. He
called one of the confidential counselors employed by the Center
to deal with issues any of the men had. He was told that getting
Tina treated only after she was sick was not considered child
neglect or abuse. The slight risk that she would die during one
of her episodes was not enough to make it qualify. If he met her
for sex and her parents found out later, he'd be guilty of a
crime technically, but prosecutors weren't following up on that
kind of crime any more if intentions were good. In the few cases
that had gone to trial, the juries had acquitted. The agency
didn't condone liaisons of the sort Tina suggested, but they
realized it did happen.
 
Jon didn't dare go to Tina's house, nor did he want to risk
discovery at his own house. He couldn't justify the expense of a
motel room. So he picked Tina up a few blocks from her school in
his SUV and started driving to a secluded location.
 
"Thank you soooo much!" Tina gushed.
 
"You understand you can't tell your parents, right?"
 
"Are you kidding? No way! My father would kill me!"
 
He pulled to the end of the secluded lane, cut the ignition and
turned to her.
 
They were there for a very good reason, so there was no cause for
shame. They both wanted it and they'd already done it once
before. Still, they were clearly both a little uncomfortable.
 
In the world as it stood a year ago, he was about to commit a
heinous crime, raping a 10-year-old girl. She showed no sign of
physical development, so surely the act would hurt her physically
and scar her emotionally. Her willingness was only an illusion
brought on by some emotional trauma. That was a year ago.
 
He wasn't sure why she was uncomfortable, but she had inhabited
that same world as a 9-year-old.
 
"OK," he said, with a nervous smile and got up. The back seats of
his SUV folded down into something like a bed. She followed him,
and he began stripping. She hesitated just a little but soon
followed his lead. They sat naked on the bed.
 
"Lean back," he said softly, and the girl did, spreading her
legs.
 
The sight topped off Jon's erection. To get into that lovely
pussy again...
 
The onset of the Lolita Syndrome enlarged a girl's vagina
permanently. Only the vomiting attacks caused automatic
lubrication, however. He needed to warm her up a little. After
sliding his hand around the inside of her thighs suggestively, he
zoomed in on her clit and began a gentle rubbing motion.
 
"Aren't you going to kiss me?" she asked. "Last time you said you
wanted to."
 
"Sure, yes! I'd love to," he said. Something seemed different
about the two situations, but he couldn't immediately put his
finger on what it was. He enjoyed the feel of her lips, and
remembering the rest of his earlier offer, he ran his hands all
over her skin. After five minutes, he checked her vagina and
found it plenty well lubricated. He was dying to get inside of
her.
 
"Ready?" he said.
 
"A little longer?" she asked.
 
He was enjoying himself, so he went back to kissing and fondling.
She caressed his body as well. After a couple minutes he was
plenty ready and she surely was too.
 
He slid into position and placed his twitching cock at her
opening. He surged in slowly, eyes locked with hers as she
gasped.
 
He then began his back and forth motion. Her cunt was perfect.
 
His job was to give her an energetic fucking, so he feasted his
eyes on her luscious body, attending in particular to her crotch
and how his cock dove in and out of her very center. This was the
first time he had had sex with a girl who was healthy, and it
naturally enough made it more exciting. When he glanced at her
face, he found she was regarding him intently with a gentle
smile. He went back to playing the role of a fucker and lost
himself in his own sexual pleasure, grunting and leering at the
body that he was possessing. His heart beat faster, his muscles
tensed, his breathing got shallow and ragged, and his pleasure
glowed like a furnace. Finally he went over the edge and
ejaculated, awash in pleasure. He lay down on her for a minute so
she could feel some of his weight before sliding off to the side.
 
"There, all done!" he said with a grin.
 
"Yup! Thank you!" she said. "It felt a little good, you know, in
my cunny."
 
"That's great!" he said.
 
As they drove back he tried to draw her out about school and
friends. She answered but without great enthusiasm. As they drew
up to the curb a few blocks from her house, he said, "Be sure to
take a shower and wash away all the evidence, now?"
 
"Of course."
 
"So, that should do you for a couple months, right?" he smiled.
Sex every two months was the common prescription for avoiding any
more attacks.
 
"OK," she said after a little hesitation.
 
"Bye."
 
"Bye."
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Lisette, do you remember Mr. Ferber?" said her mother.
 
The little girl stared a moment, then shook her head.
 
"The last time you were sick, dear, it was Mr. Ferber who came
and made you better. With his ... penis. Remember now?"
 
Lisette took on a look of concentration, then shook her head
again.
 
Jon said, "It was you and me and Michelle, the three of us?"
 
"Oh, yeah, I remember now!" said the girl brightly.
 
"Well, dear," continued her mother, "Mr. Ferber has to do that
thing again so you don't get sick again, OK? It's very nice of
Mr. Ferber to do this for us, so we're going to be nice and do
just what he says, OK?"
 
The young girl nodded.
 
"OK, dear, so take off all your clothes now... Let me help...
Good! I'm going to leave now, and he's going to stick his penis
up into the hole between your legs, and that's perfectly all
right."
 
Lisette nodded.
 
Jon had decided he didn't need Michelle to get excited about
Lisette. He was a little embarrassed to be one of relatively few
men who got the hots for a girl so very young, but his
embarrassment was no excuse to molest a bigger girl who didn't
need it for her health.
 
After the mother left, Jon stripped.
 
"You beautiful darling," Jon said. "You make me want to touch you
everywhere." He did, and Lisette lay contentedly as he fondled
every inch of her. Occasionally he hit a spot that tickled, but
otherwise she was OK with everything he did, including licking
her tiny nipples and fondling her between the legs.
 
His cock was hard and he moved in to take his prize. He slid in
gradually, enjoying her vagina. It was tight but slid apart
without too much resistance. Lisette giggled.
 
When he was buried up to the hilt in the little girl, he began
rowing in and out. For such a dainty little girl, it was tempting
to have a subdued, almost dainty orgasm of his own, but his
charge was of course to make sure she knew she had been fucked.
So he made no effort to suppress his leer as his eyes consumed
her delicious young girliness. He was proud and excited to see
his own masculine shaft disappearing between the young girl's
legs.
 
He growled and nibbled on her ear. He stuck his underarm on her
face so she would smell his aroused male essence. But mostly he
talked. "Lisette, honey, you are so fucking sexy! I love getting
into you like this -- you feel so great inside; you have no idea!
Oh, wow, I'm going to shoot sperm up inside you, and it feels so
fantastic. Oh, baby... unnnh, unnnh, unnnnh ... Here it comes,
ah, wait, oh, yes, yes, Yes!!" and he did his most joyous duty.
 
Lisette giggled now and then, but mostly just looked at him with
interest.
 
He was pretty sure she knew she'd been fucked.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Mr. Ferber?"
 
"Speaking."
 
"I'm Juliet Michaels, a counselor for the Callahan family. You
have been providing sexual services to Lisette."
 
"Yes, that's correct." Sexual services. That was one way to put
it. "Is there a problem?"
 
"No, Lisette is just fine. I'm calling in regard to Michelle.
When you first serviced Lisette, you requested that Michelle be
present as well."
 
"Yeah," sighed Jon, ears burning. "Lisette was so small, I don't
know, I thought ..."
 
"Don't worry, Mr. Ferber. I don't judge you. None of us should.
We should all be very, very grateful you are willing to step
forward to perform the service you do, and anything that helps,
especially with a girl as young as Lisette, is just fine. No, I
think you found a creative solution and Lisette is very lucky to
have you."
 
"OK." Maybe this woman was buttering him up, but she sounded
sincere. He agreed with everything she was saying, and it was
good to be reminded of it sometimes.
 
"Michelle is a lively, charming little girl," she said. "Or at
least that's how I see her."
 
"Oh, me too!"
 
"As you know, about 80% of girls show the Lolita Syndrome, which
leaves 20% like Michelle who don't. Thank goodness she's escaped
the physical danger and the vomiting symptoms. She is very
fortunate.
 
"But for whatever reason, there is no other girl in her social
circle who isn't affected. She feels left out. Some of the most
popular girls in her group at school brag about how their men get
so excited by their little bodies. And as bizarre as it would
have seemed a year ago, Michelle feels inadequate. Her parents
wondered if you would consider being sexual with Michelle without
engaging in intercourse -- her vagina is immature, of course. If
you truly do appreciate her body and find her sexually attractive
and don't have to fake your interest, it could be a gift to her."
 
Jon's cock bulged in his pants. "Ummm, I think that might work,"
he said nonchalantly.
 
"As I said, if you are just being polite, it really would be
better to skip it completely. She will sense your ambivalence."
 
"Ummm, no, I'm not ambivalent. Not at all. I was just -- well, a
little embarrassed. I had no idea a year ago that I could get
turned on by little girls at all. I never thought about it -- I
never lusted after them. And, to be honest, I'm still disgusted
with myself sometimes. Does that make sense?" He didn't know why
he was opening up to this strange woman over the phone.
 
"It makes perfect sense. Complete sense. You are a very
insightful and honorable man. You are entitled to those feelings
of shame, but you are also entitled to cast them off."
 
She hesitated a brief moment. "If I had a daughter the right age,
you'd be the first one I'd want to call. My daughter is a little
older, but if she were younger I would love to have you be the
one to, um -- fuck her enthusiastically." She laughed. "Sorry, I
guess that was unprofessional of me. Say -- I have a friend who's
doing research on the men who are stepping forward to service the
young girls, and you're very articulate and insightful, as I said
before. Would you mind if I gave her your name?"
 
"Um, no, I guess not."
 
"Good. So can I tell Michelle's mother to contact you directly?"
 
"Sure."
 
"A pleasure speaking with you, Mr. Ferber. Thank you."
 
"No, thank *you*." Why had he said that?
 
The doctor just laughed. "Bless you, Mr. Ferber."
 
He knew why he'd thanked her. Because he was thrilled at the
prospect of molesting young Michelle. It was no cause for shame,
she had said. No cause for shame. His hot face cooled slowly.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Mr. Ferber!" squealed the 7-year-old, prancing to the door to
meet him.
 
"Hello, Michelle."
 
"Can you come to my bedroom with me now? So we can play?"
 
Mrs. Callahan turned away so Michelle wouldn't see her smirk.
 
Jon caught it, though, and said, "I would be delighted to -- if
your mother doesn't mind," looking at the woman.
 
"No, that would be just fine -- run along and play!" she said,
composing herself.
 
Jon winked at her and she quickly looked away again, smirking
more broadly.
 
"Hi, Mr. Ferber!" said Lisette, walked up to them.
 
"Hi, Lisette," he said. "I'm going to play with Michelle now."
 
"Can I come too?" the little one asked, having the younger
sibling's constant fear of being left out.
 
Mrs. Callahan answered. "Lisette, you had your special time with
Mr. Ferber before, right? Now Michelle gets her turn alone with
him."
 
"OK." Her voice turned to a whisper as she looked at him. "Are
you going to do that thing to her too?"
 
The other two froze. That was exactly what he was *not* going to
do to her. But Jon answered easily, "Yeah, pretty much."
 
"Bye!" said Lisette and padded off.
 
Michelle tugged on Jon's hand and he let himself be pulled into
the big girl's room.
 
"You want to see my panties, like you did before?" she asked,
mischievously. Not waiting for an answer, she raised her pink
skirt to give him a look at her classic clean white undergarment.
 
"Yum," he said, licking his lips. "You are so luscious, I want to
eat you up everywhere!" he said.
 
She laughed.
 
He kissed her everywhere; he slid his hand up under her shirt,
under dress, under panties; he helped her out of her clothing one
article at a time. She was delighted to have him lick her tender
young girl parts, focusing on her clit.
 
The play was liberating. There was no fixed goal to this; it
didn't need to end with an enthusiastic fucking. Still, after
half an hour his cock was very hard. An enthusiastic fucking was
just what he wanted. In that, Michelle couldn't help him.
 
He thought wistfully of little Lisette. He could just sidle down
the hall and say he needed to fuck her -- her luscious pussy
would coax his cream out in no time. And then there was Mrs.
Callahan, who was pretty hot herself. He stopped himself. She was
a married woman! What kind of a sex maniac had he become? He was
a married man, but that was different, somehow.
 
Michelle sensed something was wrong too. She had seen Jon's
ecstasy during their first meeting as his penis was up to the
hilt in her little sister. She had heard her friends talk.
 
She sat up on the bed, legs spread wide, and examined herself.
"It's no good," she said sadly.
 
"Oh, it's just fine!" he said. "It's just the way a little girl
is supposed to be!"
 
"But it can't make you happy," she said.
 
"I'm already very happy," he said, kissing her cheek.
 
She wouldn't be consoled. "All the other girls have a place you
can put it to get happy."
 
An idea came to Jon, shame following right on its heels.
 
She did have one cavity, one warm wet cavity. He had only had a
couple girlfriends in his life before Alison, and he had never
been offered oral sex. He had no idea what it felt like. Alison
was grossed out by the idea. If Michelle really wanted to...
 
"Well," he said. "There is your mouth. All the grown-ups say that
I could get happy with my penis in your mouth. I've never tried
it, but if you really, really want to..."
 
"Do the other girls do that?"
 
"Probably not. See, it's only by getting really happy in the
girls' vaginas that the man can cure them. It doesn't do any good
if he gets happy in their mouth."
 
"So it would be something new?" she asked. "Something they
wouldn't have done?"
 
Jon thought a moment. What would happen if she went through with
giving him head and then bragged about it to her friends? If the
girls then got the men to spill their seed in the wrong orifice,
what would that do to cure rates? How many more visits would be
required?
 
"Yeah, but I'm thinking that if we did it you shouldn't tell
them. It should be just our secret. But you also shouldn't do it
unless you really, really want to."
 
"I do! I want to! I want to make you happy that way!"
 
"Well, OK," he said, thrilled.
 
So the 7-year-old and the 34-year-old, both new to fellatio, set
about experimenting. Was she good at it? He had no idea. But he
knew she was good enough. As he neared the edge, he stopped her.
 
"It feels fantastic, Michelle. But when I get really happy I'm
going to spurt that stuff out, and if you don't get out of the
way it will go in your mouth. I hear lots of women don't like the
way it tastes."
 
"But the men all shoot it in the other girls' bodies," she said.
"It's part of what makes them happy."
 
"Well, yes."
 
"They don't mind it."
 
"True, but you don't have any taste buds in your vagina. Girls
don't, I mean. Women don't either."
 
"I wanna make you happy just like they do," she said.
 
"Well, OK," he said, and lay back down, excited beyond words.
 
He saw Michelle's little body below him, head engulfing his cock,
intent on giving him pleasure. What a lovely little girl.
 
"Oh, Michelle, it's so fantastic!" he moaned. "Flick like you
were just doing... yeah, like that! Oh, keep going, oh, Michelle,
oh, oh, here it comes, aaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" he said, loins glowing,
manly fluids mixing and spurting.
 
She jumped when she felt the first surge, but in a second she
went back to flicking her tongue as he graced her mouth with his
reproductive fluid.
 
When he was fully satisfied, her mouth came off, and she spoke
with the mess of stuff in her mouth, "What do I do with it?"
 
"Oh! Michelle, honey. Probably spit it out. Or swallow it if you
really want to..."
 
"Will it hurt me?"
 
"No, no harm either way."
 
She swallowed.
 
Oh, what a dear girl! They snuggled a little while before he got
up to go.
 
Every time Jon came to treat little Lisette, he came back a few
days later to play with Michelle, who by all accounts was very
happy not feeling left out and inadequate any more.

============================================================
Chapter 8
 
"Thanks for the idea, honey, but... I don't feel like it
tonight," Jon said.
 
Alison withdrew her hand from between his legs and lay back on
her side of the bed.
 
"You're never interested any more!"
 
"That's not true -- we did it last month, remember?"
 
"Yeah, but I want it more. And you never initiate it."
 
Jon figured it was time to have this one out.
 
"For years, you never once initiated sex with me. I would try,
maybe every week or two, when I thought you might be in the mood,
and you always said no."
 
"Not always."
 
"True, not always. Maybe every three months."
 
"It was more often than that!"
 
"No it wasn't."
 
"Yes it was."
 
"How often do you think it was?"
 
"Well, maybe every two months, at least."
 
"Either way, my point still stands."
 
"Which is what?"
 
"That you were hardly ever interested and made me make all the
moves, and now you're all bent out of shape that I'm not
interested so often and you're the one getting rejected."
 
"It's the girls, right? Are you doing it so often you can't
manage it with me?"
 
"No, I could manage."
 
"Is it... never mind," she said, and turned away from him.
 
"Is it that they're sexier than you are?" he said quietly,
stating what he thought was her biggest fear.
 
She didn't say anything.
 
"No, that's not the reason," he said. It wasn't quite true. They
were for the most part sexier than she was. But that wasn't why
he wasn't doing it to her. She was his wife, he loved her, and
she had the hormones to respond. Her vagina was hot and wet, and
while she was way looser than they were, she knew how to squeeze.
She had orgasms.
 
He figured she could damned well ask if she wanted to know the
reason. She knew it too.
 
"OK, what's the reason," she managed.
 
He hadn't thought about just how to put this into words. "When I
make love to a girl," he said, "my goal is to give her an
enthusiastic and zestful fucking." She knew that, of course. It
was a meme of the new society. "I can be myself, let myself be a
man pretty much the way my body wants. With you, it's all making
sure everything's just perfect for you, then being all delicate
at the end while you stare off into space because you're already
satisfied."
 
"You know it's hard for me to come."
 
"Yeah, I know that. I used to suggest we get a vibrator to help
out -- but it's not spiritual enough for you, or something."
 
"It doesn't feel right," she said huffily.
 
"Or the other thing is, maybe we could just do it for me
sometimes, when you're not so interested. The girls never have
orgasms. They like to see me get happy, though. Would it be so
horrible if you did that sometimes?"
 
She fumed but didn't speak for a minute.
 
"OK, so now you know," he said, and turned away from her.
 
After a minute, she said, "So would you do it to me now if I
didn't try to have an orgasm?"
 
"Maybe," he said after a minute. "When I get over being mad at
you."
 
After a few seconds she turned towards him and hugged his back.
 
"I... I love you, Jon," she said.
 
That was a step in the right direction.
 
"I know I haven't been perfect, I guess. You know what the
feminists taught, though, that a woman's pleasure was just as
important, that she should never be blackmailed into it..."
 
"Yeah, I know," he said. "Fuck the feminists."
 
He turned to face her. "What I mean is, why not have a little
compromise? Why not do it the man's way one time, the woman's the
next. Why not use a tool to help with sexual response? The
feminists are in favor of that."
 
After a significant pause, Alison pulled the covers back and took
all her clothes off, eyes a little moist.
 
Guardedly, Jon took his clothes off too. His erection appeared on
schedule, proving that he did find her sexy.
 
Alison lay back with legs spread wide.
 
Jon gave a weak smile, then his eyes flicked to the panel of the
dropped ceiling.
 
Alison looked too, looked back at Jon, then got up and stood on
the chair and pushed the panel up. It was nice to see her naked
ass and tits moving around.
 
The panel didn't lift at first. "Not quite there -- more at the
edge," he said. As she felt on top of the other panel, he said,
"a little more towards the window."
 
"Aha," she said, and came down with the packet, studying it.
"Say, these are expired! Six months ago."
 
"Yeah, I haven't gotten to replacing them. Maybe you could start
doing that. But just because they expire, condoms don't go bad.
Not when they're stored at a uniform temperature like that."
 
She looked at him doubtfully.
 
"When's your period due?"
 
She looked up at the ceiling, calculating. "Day after tomorrow."
 
"That's like a second method, right?"
 
She shrugged, apparently mollified. She lay back and spread her
legs.
 
"Can you warm me up a little, at least?" she asked.
 
"Of course," he said, gliding his fingers between her legs. He
didn't want a dry fuck any more than she did. He was an expert at
warming up little girls by now.
 
When he could tell she was lubricated, he said, "OK, now?"
 
"I guess," she said, checking with her own fingers that she was
wet.
 
"You know, I don't want to use a condom at all," he said. "Your
period's due in three days. If worst comes to worst, you're not
dead-set against abortion. Or we could even raise another baby."
 
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," she said, smiling a little.
 
"The girls never make me use condoms. Do you know how much better
it feels?"
 
"OK," she said, sighing.
 
As he raised himself up above her, she said, "What about the
light?"
 
Usually they turned the light off by this point, if not before.
 
"Oh yeah, the light," Jon said. He reached over and turned on
another one. "I want to see you. I want to see the woman I'm
fucking," he said.
 
"Jon!"
 
"Well, that's what we're doing, right? You're a piece of ass."
 
Alison frowned.
 
"I don't mean you're just a piece of ass. But you are a piece of
ass at the moment, among other things. I mean, you're my wife,
but you also have an ass, and at the moment that's one part of
your being I'm very interested in. Your ass. A piece of it," he
said.
 
Alison looked shocked -- but also a little amused. "What if Cathy
comes in?"
 
"I have fucked Cathy three times with zest and enthusiasm, and
she is regularly getting fucked by Mr. Johnson, as you well know.
If Cathy comes in, I plan to sternly tell her she should have
knocked and tell her to leave."
 
"I'm not sure I could relax totally."
 
"You don't have to relax totally. All you have to do is look up
at me and see how much fun I'm having fucking you."
 
"OK," she said with a sigh. She gamely added, "Well, fuck away!"
 
At that he grinned and moved on top of her.
 
With a clear view of her fuckable female body, he zoomed in on
the part that was specifically fuckable, namely her pussy, and
was thrilled to see as well as feel his tip make contact with her
feminine flesh and ooze inward. It was way better than usual,
because he could feel her wet texture against him, instead of
that vague wet and warm sensation he got through a condom. Her
shape was better too, because after she'd been humping him for
ten hours and had an orgasm, she was kind of limp and loose.
 
He leered at her body. He smiled sheepishly when his gaze met
hers, but then he returned to leering at her boobs and hips and
her hairy crotch. She was the kind of female who could get
pregnant, and that had a special allure all its own that the
girls couldn't match.
 
He began pumping away. "You get an enthusiastic and zestful
fucking," he said.
 
She stuck her tongue out at him.
 
Then he bent down and kissed her on the lips briefly.
 
"I love you," he said.
 
"I love you too," she whispered.
 
He then held himself up on his hands so he could see the woman's
body below, and he began fucking it. "Aaaahh, Alison," he said.
He hadn't looked down to feast his eyes on a full-grown woman he
was fucking in years. Many years. Just like with the girls, he
let himself go with grunting and, "You're such a good fuck, oh
shit, man..." He paused to say, "Squeeze me, please."
 
Alison squeezed.
 
Then he went into his final approach, humping strongly, pubic mat
mashed against pubic mat. He felt his swelling tip bump gently
against the deep end of her vagina. He had some impulse to ream
especially hard to feel that bump, but decided not to push his
luck. "Aaaahh, Alison, man, shit, I love you, oh, you feel so
great, oh, aaaahhh, shit, "Ooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" he roared, very
loud. He spurted his cum directly into his wife's pussy, where he
was going to leave it instead of whisking it back out in a
condom. That gave an extra tingle as he spurted more shots out.
"Aaaahhh!" he said, then pulled out and collapsed onto his back
beside her.
 
A small voice was heard outside the door, "Daddy, are you OK?"
 
"Yes, honey," Jon answered. "I'm fine. I just fucked your mother
and had an especially wonderful time when I came. Go back to
sleep. Thanks for caring, Cathy."
 
"Jon!" Alison whispered, but then smiled.
 
They heard Cathy giggle as she retreated.
 
"So," he said, turning to face his well-fucked wife. "How was
that?"
 
"I... Well, you did look awfully happy!"
 
"Good! I felt happy."
 
"But can we do it for me tomorrow night?"
 
Jon felt just a little deflated, but took it in stride. "Sure --
wait, not tomorrow, not the next day -- I have to administer
therapy those days," he said deadpan. "I'm going to get you a
Hitachi and then we'll go from there."
 
"A Hitachi?"
 
"Top-of-the-line vibrator," he said.
 
"All right." She started to get up.
 
"Now, Alison," he said as he turned away from her on the bed.
"You turn out the lights, stay naked, come back, spoon against my
back, pull up the covers, and tell me how much you love me."
 
She got through most of the checklist.
 
"I'm leaking," she said.
 
"Great," he said. "That's my sperm. It's a wonderful substance.
You love it because I love to shoot it into you and it creates
new life, so you let it ooze out and dry. You take a shower in
the morning."
 
Alison sighed but hugged his back. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he said.
 
After a moment, she added, "Yesterday I would have said you just
acted like a total asshole, but... I don't know, I'll think about
it. I kind of see your point. I barely felt any pleasure -- but
it was the most exciting sex we've had in years."
 
There! thought Jon. That was more like it.
 
"Just wait 'til you feel that Hitachi," he murmured, half asleep,
"if it's like they say."


============================================================
Chapter 9
 
Jon loved his time with Tina. As his body edged its way
deliciously towards orgasm, he thought about how hot she was.
"Sweet, cunt fuck," he moaned. "I'm reaming my shaft up your
pussy hole, oh, you're just built for fucking! I've got an ocean
of cum -- I'll drown you in it, here it comes, baby, oh shit,
Unnnnhhhhhhh!" he said as he wallowed once more in the ecstasy
derived from his most primitive male reflex. All was right with
the world. His monologue and his very thinking had taken on a
predatory slant, where he framed his wild thrusts as a dominance
over her, taking his own pleasure in total disregard for how she
might feel. She had nudged him towards it, though, greeting his
tentative crude expressions about her anatomy and purpose in life
with sheer delight. It was a role he loved playing -- at least it
was mostly a role. Her look of adoration when he was in the
throes of orgasm was a wonderful touch.
 
They were meeting behind her parents' back, driving off to their
favorite secluded spot after school. He had been happy to agree
to do it to her once a month, which was the most frequent anyone
suggested for sex when the purpose was to keep the girl healthy.
When she had suggested doing it every three weeks, then every
two, he had been happy to go along. When he was treating girls,
he made a point of abstaining from intercourse for at least 24
hours beforehand. But as he realized that many of their episodes
were for their mutual pleasure instead of treatment, he felt fine
screwing her a mere 12 or 6 or 2 hours after his last
ejaculation. It felt great to both of them whether he was
injecting her with a full load or a partial one.
 
One day she showed up with a vibrator, explaining how it felt
really good down in her kitty area, not just kind of nice. He
said he'd love to watch while she used it. She did for a little
while, but said she was embarrassed. When he did slide into her,
she said it felt more tingly than usual. But when he asked, she
said she never felt any sort of peak feeling or a release.
 
"I wish I could do this with you every day," she said one day
after his softening cock had plopped out of her. "Would you like
that too?"
 
"Yeah, that would be fantastic."
 
She snuggled up against him. "Could we? I mean, is there any
reason why not?"
 
"I do have a job, and then there are many other girls who I treat
so they stay healthy. That's the main reason I'm doing this."
 
"Oh." After a pause, she said, "I hear there are a lot more men
now to do it to the girls. I wish they could do the other ones."
 
Jon was getting a little uncomfortable with the direction the
conversation was going. His sex with Tina was fantastic, and he
liked the girl, but it was just sex. Loving sex, but just sex. He
was delighted that she enjoyed it so much, of course.
 
"I'm your favorite one, right?"
 
"I have a great time with you, Tina."
 
"Could you be happy doing it just with me? You'd feel satisfied,
wouldn't you?"
 
"Oh yes, I feel very satisfied when we do it."
 
"Do you love me?"
 
"Sure I love you, you're wonderful," he said, patting her back.
 
"I wish we could be together, just the two of us."
 
"Ummm, I am married, you know."
 
"Yeah... Maybe I could stay in a little cottage out behind your
house and you could be my lover and come to me every night --
then go back to sleep with your wife, I guess. But you'd love me
so much you'd come back first thing in the morning."
 
"It's a nice fantasy, I understand. I remember feeling that way a
long time ago. To be totally in love with someone."
 
"I'm totally in love with you."
 
This was not good, Jon reflected.
 
He reluctantly discussed the situation with the counselor
provided by the agency, and she agreed that it had gotten out of
hand. What she suggested he do next time was much like what he
would have done.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"I can't wait to get out of my panties," Tina said as she hopped
into his SUV. She knew they had to hide all traces of their
relationship until the car was stopped in their secluded lane.
"Every night I use my vibrator to get nice and warm and I'm
always thinking of you on me, over me, and poking into me as I
fall asleep."
 
"Tina..." he said. "This isn't right."
 
"Yes it is. I've never felt so happy in my life."
 
She babbled on as they drove, sticking her hand up under her
dress when there was no one to see.
 
He turned off the engine when they reached their spot on the lane
and turned to her.
 
"Tina, listen to me."
 
"Yes?"
 
"This is serious, Tina. I think we're going to have to stop
seeing each other."
 
"But -- "
 
"Let me finish. You should never be doing this kind of thing at
all at your age, except for the damned virus. Most of the girls
just put up with the sex like they are getting a shot or
something. Some enjoy it, and that's OK. But it's still supposed
to be just a little sidelight to life. Your life is supposed to
be all about friends and school and stuff -- you're just a girl.
You're not supposed to be thinking about sex all the time."
 
"But I love you."
 
Jon sighed. "I know you do. But it's no good. I'm a married man,
with a daughter and a career. I'm way older than you and have
different things in my life. I help other girls to keep them from
getting sick."
 
"So... maybe we should go back to every two weeks?"
 
"No, we have to stop seeing each other entirely."
 
"But you love it so much when we do it!"
 
"Yes, I do, but that's just sex. We have to stop seeing each
other."
 
"If we can't see each other..." she said, eyes wide and
vulnerable, considering a tragedy of gargantuan proportions, "I
won't be able to go on living. I'll kill myself."
 
"Oh, I know it feels that way. Boys and girls have felt this way
forever, and they eventually get over it. I did, a long time
ago."
 
"No one feels the way I do!" she said hotly. "No one could love
anyone the way I love you!"
 
Jon knew it was pointless to argue. He and the counselor had
agreed on that.
 
"I'm sorry if I've hurt you," was all he could come up with.
 
"Can we do it just once more? One last time?" she said, biting
her lip.
 
The right answer was "No." He knew it, and the counselor had said
so too.
 
But there she was, pleading, looking so sad. He had hurt her --
could he do this one last thing for her?
 
"OK," he said. "One last time."
 
He admired the naked girl body laid out below him, and reflected
wistfully that he'd never get to delve into that particular
vagina again. But in he delved one last time, loving the
sensations. There was her face, eager for his pleasure -- too
eager. She would do anything. Partly she was in denial, and
partly he knew she hoped against hope that he would change his
mind -- especially if it were a fantastic enough experience. He
skipped his usual sexy banter. He had the sense she was
pretending to feel more pleasure than she was. His own orgasm
felt wonderful, as usual, though a little sad.
 
She clung to him like a limpet when he lay down to catch his
breath.
 
"Come on," he said, and the girl reluctantly got dressed and
resumed her position in the front seat. Conversation was strained
as they drove back to near her house.
 
"Goodbye, it's been wonderful knowing you, and I'm so sorry," he
said as she got out.
 
She didn't meet his eye and slammed the door.
 
When Tina's mother called to give him a piece of her mind, he
listened patiently and apologized over and over. He gulped when
she reported that her husband said he was going to kill him, but
decided he was probably not in any real danger. The agency called
the family and applied their professional wisdom to defuse the
situation. Tina emailed him and called him. He hung up on the
calls, and answered the emails at first, expressing his caring
for her, his regret, and his firm determination never to see her
again. As the agency recommended, he responded less and less
often, finally saying it would be his last reply and keeping to
his word.
 
And Tina eventually got over him, as jilted girls almost always
do.
 
There was no legal action, of course. Their initial sex had been
arranged to save her life. While their later liaisons were
against her parents' wishes, they were justified by her desire to
avoid recurrence of the Lolita Syndrome and had most definitely
been with her consent.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ferber."
 
There was something familiar about that voice...
 
"I am Mrs. Smythe, Betsy's mother."
 
Ah yes, the woman he had gagged and left tied up in the bathtub
on their one and only meeting.
 
"Hello, Mrs. Smythe."
 
"I do not wish to discuss the incident between us. I'm sure our
opinions on the subject are very different," she said stiffly.
 
"I'm sure they are," he agreed.
 
"I am thankful to you for treating Betsy's condition, though I
feel certain it could have been done better in a different
fashion by a different man. Be that as it may, that is not why I
am calling you.
 
"My custody of Betsy is under review. However unjustified I feel
that is, one of their requirements is that I arrange for Betsy to
receive treatment to head off a recurrence of the Lolita
Syndrome. The counselors say you would be the best man to do that
job. So I am formally asking if you would be willing to perform
that service."
 
"Certainly," Jon said gravely. "That would be acceptable, if that
is what the counselors think would be best."
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Hi, Betsy," he said, entering her room. Her mother had pointedly
gone out for a drive, saying she would return when he called her.
 
The room was transformed. Instead of the middle of the night, it
was afternoon, sun streaming through the curtains. Instead of
dirty clothes, basins, and the smell of sickness, all was clean
and shiny, the bed neatly made.
 
The girl herself was also transformed. Her lustrous blond hair
was neatly combed. The sunlight playing on it gave the appearance
of a halo that Jon had to remind himself was just an illusion.
The sun made her white dress gleam. Her face was symmetric, her
big blue eyes set wide. The sun also highlighted the fine tiny
hairs on her shoulder. There wasn't a blemish anywhere on her
body. She wore no socks or shoes, so he could confirm the
perfection of skin all the way from her knees to the tips of her
toes.
 
She sat demurely with hands in her lap, looking down. She raised
her gaze only briefly. "Hi," she said.
 
"You are looking positively wonderful today," he said.
 
She nodded shyly. "Thanks."
 
Compliments on her appearance were probably so common to her they
were boring.
 
"You look way, way better than you did last time."
 
At that she looked up and smiled. "I'm sorry I was so difficult."
Her white teeth were beautiful when they no longer needed to be
regarded as weapons. "I talked to Wanda -- she's my counselor --
a lot about the biting. I know my mommy felt really mad when I
said I didn't mind it the first time that guy had sex with me,
and Wanda thinks I was trying to be the way she wanted."
 
"Hmmm. That makes sense. As for me, I'm sorry I was so rough with
you," he said. "You remember why?"
 
"Sure. You saved my life. Even if you maybe didn't have to be
quite *that* rough, you were making sure."
 
"That's right," he said. He didn't mention how terribly erotic
the rape had been for him. This was a totally different
situation; raping this transformed girl was out of the question.
 
As he sat on the bed, she reached over and gave him a squeeze,
planting a slurpy kiss on his cheek. "Thanks."
 
They just sat. He was supposed to get naked with this angel and
violate her private parts? It just didn't seem possible.
 
"So... What should I do?" she finally asked quietly.
 
"Oh, um, do you really want me to... you know? ... do it?" he
asked lamely.
 
"Well, I don't want to get sick," she answered sensibly.
 
"OK," he gulped. "Then take off -- no, wait. Just sit there a
moment."
 
He stripped slowly, and was almost apologetic when he removed his
underpants to reveal a half-hard cock. No angel should have to
look at something as -- mundane and awkward-looking and carnal as
that.
 
She stole quick glances at it.
 
"Now lie back," he whispered, and she did. Positioning himself
below her, he nudged her legs apart a little and looked in
slack-jawed wonder at the angel. She smiled at him pleasantly.
The hem of her dress covered her to mid-thigh.
 
His penis hardened completely. It almost felt like someone was
stroking it, even though it just jutted into empty space.
 
He slowly slid her dress up to see the perfect skin of thighs
narrowing together. He was prepared to see angelic white panties
appear at the junction, but instead he saw angelic girl skin, a
little girl's slit with a drop of moisture right where the lips
joined.
 
He felt a little dizzy and the sensation of something caressing
his penis intensified. He then realized his orgasm was starting.
He was in grave danger of befouling this angel and her dress with
his vulgar, carnal gloppy sperm.
 
He quickly lunged forward, spreading her lips with one hand and
aiming his bulging prick tip. He was still an inch away when his
penis very rudely rocketed out a white clot that hit the girl
right at the peak of her slit.
 
But the angel conjured up her own carnal side to match his, and
his tip plunged between hot, wet female lips before he gave a
second shot. He had barely worked his tip into her vagina proper
when his third pulse came, finally depositing some sperm more or
less where it was supposed to go. He slid into the angel up to
the hilt for the final few mostly dry contractions of his orgasm.
 
He was tempted to relax, remove his intruding organ and let the
girl turn back to 100% angel again. But he remembered that he
needed to mate with her vigorously for the treatment to be
effective. So he plunged in, lowered his body onto the girl, and
began fast thrusting with guttural grunts. His penis started
softening, however, and within a minute it wouldn't stay inside
her any more, so he slid off to the side.
 
"That was quick!" she said brightly. "Way different from before."
 
"Yeah," he said. It bothered him to think that his sperm was
going to stain her white dress. Would God strike him down for
befouling her angel clothes? But that was inevitable, right?
Anyway, this angel business was just an illusion.
 
"I'm... I'm not sure that was enthusiastic and zestful enough,"
he said.
 
"Yeah, I don't know," she answered. "What should we do?"
 
"I think I need to come back in a few days and try again."
 
In the experience of the agency, the need for a second try was
common enough, though premature ejaculation was rarely the
reason. It was an excess of enthusiasm, not a shortage, but it
still didn't meet the girl's needs.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
The next time he entered Betsy's bedroom, the sun was shining,
but at least it wasn't shining on her.
 
She moved into position. He didn't see how a girl could remain a
creature of the religious imagination while lying back naked and
spreading her legs, but she managed it.
 
As his engorged penis tip made contact with her grown-up-sized
pussy lips, she remained angelic for another instant. The moment
he felt wetness, though, she became a real girl. She smiled a
little as he felt his tip start pressing into her vagina itself,
and those bright teeth reminded him of that other creature of the
religious imagination she had resembled the first time he had met
her.
 
Now she was just a human girl, if the most perfect exemplar of
the kind he had ever experienced. Her body was unblemished and it
glowed. She wasn't sexually aroused, but she was wet and smooth
and deep inside. She wanted him to do just what he was doing. She
was kind, she was honest, and her psyche was in harmony with
itself and the world.
 
He felt a little guilty being crude with an angel, but when he
reminded himself it was necessary the guilt turned to a special
excitement.
 
He fondled her everywhere he could reach, he crushed her under
his weight, he licked her face, grunted in her ear, told her what
a pretty fuck she was. Through it all, his penis humped into her
big-girl vagina, getting stiffer and larger with each intrusion,
pleasure coursing to his brain with every stroke.
 
"Oh, Betsy, oh dear, you fucking angel, ahhh, ohhh,
uuuunnnnnnhhhhh!" he groaned as he splatted her upper cunt with
his sperm.
 
When he had recovered a little, she said, "You talk kind of
nasty, but you're supposed to, right?"
 
"Yeah."
 
"I kind of like it," she said with a little grin, "compared to
some of that stuff you did that other time... But, did you have a
good time? It looked like you did."
 
"Oh, man, it was great," he said.
 
"Oh, I'm so glad," said the little girl earnestly, squeezing him
with her arms.
 
Despite the sperm oozing from her pussy, the little angel was
back, and Jon was in heaven.

============================================================
Chapter 10

"Cathy, want to come over this afternoon and try out that new Wii
game?"

"Sure, Tom." Tom was a nice guy and kind of cute too. They'd
talked off and on at school, but he'd never invited her over
before.

He offered her a Coke, they played with the Wii thing, which was
lots of fun, then they ended up sitting around the kitchen.

"Tom, you wanna fuck me?"

"Huh?" Tom asked.

"You know, fuck. Penis in vagina."

"Gee, Cathy, I ..."

She could see this wasn't anything he expected.

"It's OK, I just thought it might be fun."

"Well, sure, but ... I've never done it," he said.

"I've had to do it, you know, to stop barfing. A bunch of times.
The men love to do it, so I thought you might too."

"OK, it sounds great, if you really..."

She hopped up and headed to his bedroom, and he followed.

She took off her clothes without fanfare, then turned to face
him. His eyes were glued to that spot between her legs that all
the men loved so much.

"You gotta strip too!" she said.

He did, stumbling a little on the leg of his jeans. There was no
bulge in his underpants, and he hesitated a moment before taking
off that last article. He stood awkwardly and didn't meet her
gaze. His penis was small to begin with and it was floppy.

"Can I play with it?" she asked. She had gotten glimpses of the
men's penises, but she hadn't played with one. The first bunch of
times she had been too sick to care, but the last couple times,
with Mr. Johnson, she was kind of curious.

He didn't object, so she zoomed in with her fingers to feel the
strange little soft thing. "It's nice," she said.

He relaxed a little at her approval, and she kept playing. It
started to grow under her caress, however inexpert.

"It feels nice, Cathy... Can I touch you too?"

"Sure!" Cathy lay back and spread her legs wide so he could look
at her female parts. She felt confident in her body, especially
that part, because the men got so excited when they fucked her.

He touched her so softly she could barely feel it.

After a minute, she interrupted. "You can do more than that!" she
said. "Let me show you." With one hand she held her lips open,
with the other she shoved Tom's big finger up her pussy hole.

Tom looked stunned but very, very interested. On his own
initiative, he slid his finger in and out, looking to see if she
would object. She didn't, of course.

"Now, you stick your thing in where your finger is now."

She held her knees up and spread her legs wide, so he could get
at her.

He shuffled up into position, looking a little awkward, but the
geometry was easy enough. She felt a poke, then she felt it slide
in just a little. He didn't have their pelvises tight together,
so she reached out with her hands and adjusted him slightly.

"Wow," he said when his penis was in her. It felt tiny to her --
not much bigger than his finger.

"Now go in and out," she said.

He did. He looked like he was having fun, but not the same kind
of fun the men had. After a while he said, "That was neat," and
slid out.

"Good!" So it wasn't the same thing. Kind of disappointing, but
then he was a boy and not all grown up. She didn't really enjoy
sex the way the men did or the way the big girls and women did on
TV and in books and stuff. So maybe he'd have to grow up before
he thought it was super-exciting too.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Hey Cathy!" Tom called, catching up with her in the corridor at
school.

"Hi Tom."

"That was so cool the other day. What a neat idea."

"Glad you liked it."

"You want to come over and do it again? You know my brother
Corey?"

"Yeah." Corey was one of the bigger boys, four years older than
Tom.

"I told him and he said I was incredibly lucky, and he'd do it to
you in a flash if you'd let him."

"Sure, that sounds like fun." It would be cool to hang out with
Corey.

Corey was a big boy, but he seemed as nervous as Tom when he
pulled his underpants off. But he had hair and a bigger penis. It
felt nice in her hands and got really hard.

It was thrilling to see how excited he was as he prepared to
shove his dick up inside her. He came ten seconds later and his
pleasure was wonderful to see. For the purposes of treatment,
those few seconds probably wouldn't have qualified as zestful and
enthusiastic fucking, but this wasn't treatment.

Cathy took to hanging out at Tom and Corey's most days after
school. Their parents were never there in the afternoon. Corey's
friend Matt came over too, and he was as enthusiastic about
fucking her as Corey. He licked her nipples, and she liked that.
He also had the fattest cock anyone had ever shoved up inside
her, and it felt nice.

Tom still did it to her too, but Cathy had the sense it was
mostly so his brother and his friend would think he was grown-up
enough to want to fuck a girl.

After the fucking, they hung out and Cathy loved hearing the big
boys talking about everything -- teachers, music, sports, and big
girls and how they never would have sex. She soaked it all in.
Usually they wanted to fuck her again before the afternoon was
over, and Cathy was great with that too.

A week or so later, Damon and Evan showed up at their house.
Corey and Matt were 13, but Damon and Evan were even older, maybe
16.

"Where's Cathy?"

When she appeared, they looked her up and down. "So this is the
famous Cathy Ferber. You like to get fucked?" Damon leered.

Cathy nodded, because it felt nice to make big boys happy with
her body. But she had a bad feeling about Damon.

"Rock, paper, scissors for who goes first," Damon said.

They tied the first time, rock against rock, but the second time
Damon wrapped Evan's rock. Corey showed them to his room.

After Cathy stripped, the naked Damon looked her up and down.

"You're a little girl," he said, talking more at her than to her.

"No boobs. But they say you've got a sweet, tight pussy."

Cathy didn't say anything.

"Do you suck cock?" he asked.

Cathy shook her head.

"It tastes good, honey," he said, holding his stiff cock out at
her.

She shook her head again.

"Well, let's have at your pussy, then," he said.

Cathy lay back as usual and Damon mounted her and drilled in.
"Very nice, very nice," he moaned, eyes closed. "Just like they
said." He lasted longer than some of them -- maybe two minutes,
but he had his eyes closed the whole time, finally coming with a
simple, "Aaaaahhhhh!"

He rolled off. "Hey, you're OK, Cathy. Good girl!" and he patted
her head.

Cathy didn't get up right away. Evan was coming, right? She
faintly overheard Damon's low voice from the living room. "She
was hot; I could really get into being a perv."

Evan appeared and shut the door behind him. "All ready to go, I
see!" he said, taking in Cathy laid out naked on her back.

Evan didn't even strip, he just whipped his cock out of his
shorts. "Let's see how you feel up there," he said, and slid his
cock into her. "Oh yeah, very nice, just like Corey said. Oh
fuck, fuck, fuck, you're hot, you CUNT!" He came in 10 seconds.

"Atta girl!" he said, ruffling her hair as he stuffed his cock
back inside.

By the time Cathy had dressed and reappeared in the living room,
Damon and Evan were gone.

"So how was it, Cathy? You're getting to be very popular!" Corey
said.

"I don't want to do it with them again," she said.

"Problem?" Matt asked.

"They weren't nice to me."

"OK."

But Damon and Evan appeared the next day, and Corey let them in.

"You got pretty Miss Cathy here again?" Evan asked, but then saw
her off to one side.

"Ah yes," he said. "You guys ever watch each other do it? We
could all do her right on the sofa there."

They all looked at Cathy, and she shook her head.

He hesitated a moment, then said, "OK, the bedroom then," walking
past her and waiting for her to follow.

Cathy shook her head again.

"Ah, c'mon baby," Evan said, tugging on her hand.

Cathy resisted.

"Hey, you guys want to hold her down while I do her? Take turns?"

Cathy looked at Corey, who looked back at her.

"Nah," he said in a small voice. Turning to Cathy, he said, "You
don't want to do it with him?"

Cathy could tell he was praying she'd relent. She shook her head
again.

After the barest hesitation, Corey answered, "She says no. That's
it. Game over."

"You just let her decide?" Damon asked.

No one answered. Matt, Corey and Tom looked uncomfortable, but
Cathy stared straight at Damon and Evan in turn.

"You guys are a bunch of wusses," Evan said.

"Yeah," said Damon, "Can't get one your own age, I guess. Hey,
she was fun for a change, Evan, but let's go back to the real
babes."

When they left, Corey and Matt let out big sighs, showing just
how tense they had been. She got it then. Corey had bragged about
how he and Matt did it to Cathy. By offering her to Damon and
Evan, he was hoping to raise his own status with the big boys.
With Cathy's refusal, he had lost whatever ground he might have
gained.

"You shoulda told them Cathy knows who the real men are," said
Matt. "Tell them it's not our fault they've got little dicks."

The three boys laughed.

"I'd like to see you tell them that," said Corey. "I'll call the
ambulance for you."

That was worth a few chuckles among the boys.

"They're not getting any from the big girls, you can bet," said
Corey.

"Sorry, Cathy," he said to her, looking sincere.

That tense incident broke the mood of afternoons at Tom and
Corey's. Cathy never went back. She thought about telling her
mother, but decided against it. She had this sense her mother
would think she had been bad to get in that situation to begin
with.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Hey Cathy," said Elaine.

"Yeah?" Cathy barely knew Elaine. She was a year older.

"I know you don't know me, but the word got around that you don't
mind having sex with boys -- at least you didn't used to."

Cathy turned a little pink. She had the feeling that people were
saying bad things about her, though she didn't quite understand
why.

"I'm the same way," she said. "I really like seeing boys get
happy like that. It's warm and cozy."

"Yeah!" said Cathy, happy to meet a girl who understood. She had
been missing her afternoons at Tom and Corey's. There was so much
to learn from big boys.

"My big brother Isaac has a bunch of friends. They're smart and
nerdy but they know tons of stuff and they're really nice. I
wondered if you'd like to come over some time and meet the gang."

"Do I have to have sex?"

"They're hoping you will some day, but it's up to you."

"OK," she said. "But just to visit." She'd probably want them
fuck her, but with her experience with Evan and Damon she wanted
to check things out first.

Isaac and Elaine's parents were never home in the afternoon
either. They lived in a big, fancy house.

"Hi, Cathy," said Isaac. He was a lanky boy with a crooked nose,
but Cathy liked him at once. His look spoke of respect, and that
meant everything to her just then. "Let's show you around." The
two of them and Elaine toured the place.

It took a while. The house wasn't just full of fancy furniture
and paintings, like a few of the other rich kids she knew. They
showed her a woodworking shop, a sound recording studio, a room
set up to be an electronics and computer lab, their own bedrooms
and a few guest rooms.

Isaac introduced her to three other guys working in the
electronics lab.

At last Isaac, Elaine and Cathy sat in one of the living rooms.

"Here's the deal, Cathy. I want to have sex with you. I knew you
were pretty, but from your questions these past few minutes I can
tell you're smart and fun too, and that's even better. The deal
is that you get to hang out here with all of us and be part of
our crew, and at least now and then you have sex with me. I feel
kind of creepy saying that, but at least you know from the start
what the deal is."

Elaine said, "The other guys do it to me, and we have lots of
fun, but Isaac's my brother and he doesn't want to have sex with
me. Incest or something."

"It's not the principle or anything -- I just don't feel like
doing it to her."

"Have you ever watched other people doing it?" Elaine asked.

Cathy shook her head.

"Jesse and I love to have people watch us, so you can -- up to
you. Hey Jesse!" she yelled. "Can you do me now?"

One of the boys from the electronics room appeared.

Isaac said, "You wanna stay? You can wait in the library if you'd
rather."

Cathy was fascinated and stayed put.

"Woof, woof!" said Elaine, kicking off jeans and panties and
getting on hands and knees.

"Growl!" went Jesse, stripping quickly. He also got on his hands
and knees and poked his nose right into Elaine's rear end! Cathy
could see his tongue reach in to lick, while his big-boy cock
twitched between his legs.

After thirty seconds, Elaine went, "Arf! Arf! Arf!".

Jesse reared up behind her and positioned his twitching cock at
her opening. Cathy didn't even know people could do it that way!
He shoved his twitching cock up Elaine's pussy and began
thrusting in and out.

Cathy saw Isaac adjust the front of his pants as he watched.

The doggy didn't take long with his bitch. In under a minute he
let out a guttural "Unnnnhhhhhh!" He pulled back with a sigh of
great satisfaction and after a moment hauled himself up on the
sofa.

"Poor Isaac has to watch this every day and never gets any for
himself," Elaine said.

Cathy had planned to just visit and think overnight about whether
she wanted to take them up on this deal or not. But she could see
the bulge in Isaac's pants and felt a little damp herself.

Cathy got up and knelt beside Isaac. She reached out her hand to
touch the bulge in his pants.

"There's your answer, brother!" Elaine chortled.

Isaac looked a little pale as he asked her earnestly, "Are you
sure? You don't have to."

"Isaac!" Elaine said, excited and a little exasperated. "She
wants you to fuck her! So go fuck her!"

He led her to his room. Twice more he asked her if she was really
sure. Just before he slid into her he confessed this was his
first time. That gave Cathy a little tingle.

Penises were different sizes and shapes, even if you didn't count
ones like Tom's. Isaac's was pretty average. Whatever the size or
shape, the guy behind the penis wanted so, so much to stick it
right up the hole between her legs. Sometimes she idly wondered
why. If she magically grew one of those she wouldn't want to
stick it in Elaine, for instance. It was just the way boys were,
she guessed.

And once their cock was up inside her, something about her vagina
-- pussy, cunt, snatch, twat -- made them want to shove it in and
out. Something made it feel really good, and it always ended the
same way. Isaac didn't last ten strokes, but the intensity of
pleasure on his face when he came made Cathy smile. She felt him
swell and twitch inside her. When he pulled out, some of the
sperm stuck to his cock, some oozed out of her, and some, she
knew, stayed up inside. That's what it was all for, of course,
getting the sperm up in a big girl to start a baby. She wasn't a
big girl and they knew she wouldn't grow any baby, but for some
reason they still really, really wanted to shove into her, poke
really deep, and wet the inside of her like that. She didn't
mind. That's what her pussy was made for, she realized -- taking
guy cocks, giving them a wet hug while they wiggled frantically
back and forth, and then taking their goopy stuff. Kind of like
getting peed in, in a way.

Big girls and women loved it, she knew. They thought it felt
fantastic and had those same really happy feelings the guys did.
Someday she'd find out, she guessed. In the mean time, it felt
thrilling to let a nice big boy like Isaac feel so good doing it
to her.

---------------------------------------------------------

Being at Isaac's house was an amazing experience. They were so
smart. Watching them create websites, hack programs together,
make movies, play board games ... there was so much to learn. A
lot of it went over her head. But any time she asked, the boys
explained patiently what was going on. They never made fun of
her.

It wasn't just Isaac who wanted to do it to her. All of the boys
developed the habit with her of getting down on one knee, taking
both her hands, and asking if she would be willing to have sex
with them. Occasionally she said no, and while they were
disappointed, they never questioned her. Usually she said yes.
And when she did, their big, hot, teenage bodies possessed her.
They rarely lasted long before they made their sighs or shouts or
moans of ecstasy and their teenage sperm surged into her pussy.
They were always very thankful.

Mostly Isaac fucked her twice each afternoon, while the boys did
her once and Elaine once. Jesse was the horniest and one
afternoon he fucked her four times in two hours, along with doing
Elaine once.

---------------------------------------------------------

Cathy dreamed of cocks surging urgently up her cunt, of big boys'
faces intent with concentration, and of their utter ecstasy when
they came inside her. They were nice dreams.

Cathy thought that any good boy who respected her deserved his
pleasure. Why shouldn't she give what she had to offer? She
didn't want to entertain any boys at her parents' house, and
Isaac didn't want more people joining their group. But Isaac's
parents did have a sort of carriage house on the property, and
Isaac reluctantly let her use rooms there for entertaining all
the boys she wanted.

Sometimes she used two or even three of the bedrooms. After a boy
had finished, he could lie on the bed in peace relishing his
experience. Before joining a naked boy in the other room, Cathy
made a quick stop by the bathroom. She took to sticking a finger
up inside her and pulling out the sperm she could easily get and
letting it plop into the toilet -- the boys knew that other
penises were ejaculating inside her, but they didn't like to be
aware of it directly and liked it if her pussy wasn't too goopy.

Some of the boys brought her flowers or candy or poems. Some
brought her CDs or books. She liked it best when a boy brought
her flowers he had picked or a poem he had written.

But if she heard that a boy had been mean to someone else,
particularly a girl, she wouldn't have sex with him. Girls knew
what Cathy did and how much the boys liked it. Sometimes she felt
like a judge while the girl told her how mean the boy had been
and he tried to talk his way out of it. The girls were always
right. The girls were always right except for Arlene -- she was
devious.

She never spent the whole afternoon in the carriage house. She
always made some time to hang out with Isaac and the other boys
and Elaine.

---------------------------------------------------------

Cathy's lovers knew that if her parents found out, the
arrangement they liked so much might come to an end, so they were
motivated to be discreet. No one wanted to tattle. Cathy wasn't
the only one who let boys have sex with her, though she did it
way more than the others. But when dozens of people are in on a
secret, it slips out sooner or later.

Alison got the news by phone at 9pm, and waited anxiously for Jon
to come home from one of his "treatments" a little before 10. She
told him everything she had heard. Cathy had already gone to bed,
but it was too important to wait until morning.

"Cathy, honey, we need to talk. Come out to the living room, OK?"

"Brian's mother tells me you've been having sex with him and some
of the other high school boys. Is it true?"

"Ummm, yeah," said the girl who had just turned 10 years old.
"Sometimes."

"Why didn't you come to us? You know you never have to let anyone
do anything with your body you don't want, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"You know we'd protect you, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know that. I love you both so much." Cathy teared up a
little.

There were several seconds of silence.

"So?" asked Alison.

"I like it," Cathy said softly. "I have to do it with Mr. Johnson
to prevent the disease, you know, and I like it. I like how he
gets happy. It's warm and nice. Daddy liked it too, those times
we did it. So I wanted to see if it would be nice with other guys
too. And the big boys like it."

"Oh, Cathy, it's not your job to make boys happy. Sex is
something men and women do when they love each other. It's not
something young girls like you are supposed to do at all. It's
only because of this horrible disease..."

"I still have to do it, whether I should or not. So I've been
doing more of it."

When it sank in to Alison that her daughter was not a helpless
victim, she got angry. "Well, that's the end of that! You are not
allowed to have sex with anyone except for your treatments with
Mr. Johnson, is that clear?"

"But mother!"

"Has this been happening over at Elaine's? I know you two have
become such good friends, and I'd thought that was wonderful. But
maybe there's not enough supervision over there. How many boys
have you done it with? Four? Five?"

"Um, yeah, I guess. More than five I guess."

"I want the name of every boy who's taken advantage of you."

"But mother! That's like tattling! And no one's taken advantage
of me!"

"You may not think so, but they're older and it's their job to
know not to manipulate you."

Jon spoke for the first time. "Cathy, you say it's your idea. Is
that really true? Has any boy done it to you when you didn't want
him to?"

"Umm.... no." Times like Evan were kind of borderline, but
basically the answer was no.

"I've heard you talk about Isaac and his friends. Have you had
sex with them? Be honest."

"Umm, well -- duh."

Alison burst in with, "I can't believe it! Well, that's the last
time you go over there!"

"But mother!" Cathy wailed.

"No, that's final!"

---------------------------------------------------------

After Cathy cried herself to sleep, Jon and Alison talked in bed.

"I think you came down on her pretty hard," said Jon.

"She's a total slut! I can't believe it!"

"Maybe. But the world's changed."

"Not like that, it hasn't. A slut is still a slut."

"I have sex with girls, Alison. I see what it's like for them.
Once you open that door, things are different. The girls like to
see me have an orgasm."

"I don't want to hear about this, Jon!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but it's important. Other men report the same
thing. Not all the girls, of course. A few are sullen, and a few
are obviously thinking of nothing at all, and for them it's like
getting a shot. But most of them get into it. And that's
healthy."

"It is not!"

"If you don't believe me, look it up on the web. We men are
fucking them zestfully and enthusiastically. If we're not into
it, they aren't protected. A girl experiences a man sexually
excited, lying on top of her, thrusting right up inside her.
Whatever you may think of sex, it's not healthy for her to just
pretend it's not happening or not care. Cathy likes it. So why
not help other men or at least other boys feel the same way? It's
not crazy."

"Listen, Jon, she's my daughter, and I'm not going to have her
fucking the whole town!" shouted Alison.

---------------------------------------------------------

Cathy was nasty to her mother, sullen, and depressed. She stopped
doing her homework. A week passed and there was little
improvement.

When Cathy said Isaac wanted to talk with him, Jon readily
agreed. He would have been most comfortable meeting him alone,
but Isaac said he wanted Cathy to be there too.

"Mr. Ferber, I guess it would have been better if I'd asked you
and Mrs. Ferber before having sex with Cathy. But I figured you'd
say no."

Jon nodded. Alison certainly would have said no. He was also
aware that Isaac was an uncommon boy to be able to talk so
openly.

"I think she's old enough to decide these things for herself, and
of course she does too, but you and your wife don't agree."

Jon decided not to go into the differences between how he and
Alison thought about things just then.

"Part of the deal I originally put to Cathy was that she could be
part of our group with computers and music and making movies if
she'd have sex with me."

That sounded to Jon like the sort of manipulation Alison would be
livid about.

"I knew I could say no, daddy. I said no plenty of times, right
Isaac?"

"Yes, Cathy. A few times, anyway. But you could."

He turned back to Jon. "Even if you don't think that kind of
offer was a good thing to do, it seems terribly unfair to Cathy
to make her stop coming. We'd all like her to come back, and we'd
promise not to have sex with her."

Jon knew how much Isaac's gang meant to Cathy, how much she loved
it and how much she learned there. Alison had agreed about that
part, but once she found out about the sex all that had faded
into insignificance.

"But the truth is, Mr. Ferber..." Isaac had been very
self-assured up to that point, but now he looked down and blushed
a little. "I'm in love with Cathy. I'd like to have her as my...
girlfriend." He started talking more rapidly. "I know that sounds
crazy -- a 16-year-old boy and a 10-year-old girl. But I like her
more than the girls my age -- she's more sexy."

Jon could understand how a boy would feel that way. But he said,
"Sorry, Cathy, but you can't really love Isaac. You're not old
enough to know what that kind of love is." He thought about Tina.

Isaac answered before Cathy could. "I didn't say she loved me, I
just said I loved her. I was jealous when she was having sex with
those other guys, but it wasn't my place to control her. But now
she's willing to be my girlfriend."

"Yeah, daddy. I have to have sex with someone. I've been having
sex with Mr. Johnson, right? And I have to, right? I'd rather
have sex with Isaac instead."

"More than once a month, though, I suspect?"

"Yeah, daddy, of course!"

Isaac finished laying out his plan. "Here's what I'm hoping we
can do. I'll guarantee that Cathy won't have sex with anyone else
-- well, at least I'll promise to tell you right away if she
does. I want her all to myself, you see, so that won't be hard
for me. She'll get to hang out with all of us again. And then I'm
hoping she can sleep over sometimes. Or I can sleep over here
sometimes."

Isaac was a confident young man to even make a proposal like
that. But it made a lot of sense to Jon. Cathy had to have sex,
one way or the other.

The image that came back to him over and over was Betsy. He'd
love to sleep with Betsy every night.

"You know Cathy might change her mind any time."

"No, I won't," she said.

"I know that," said Isaac. "She'll probably break my heart some
day. But in the mean time, it's worth it. It's well worth it."

Jon felt a pang in his heart when he thought of Betsy. If he
weren't married, and if Betsy were more like Cathy in
personality, in wanting to make a man happy... He could imagine
sleeping with her every night, fucking the little angel each
night and each morning, just absorbing the essence of the pure
creature into his soul. It was just a fantasy, of course. They
would have little to talk about and she would grow up too and
break his heart ... but the fantasy ... the fantasy.

Jon put Isaac's proposal to Alison. He listened patiently while
she ranted and raved.  She was never happy about it, but she
relented. Cathy had to have sex with someone, and she figured it
was no worse for it to be a couple times a week with Isaac than
once a month with Mr. Johnson.

In fact, Cathy and Isaac usually had sex first thing in the
morning, last thing at night, at least once in the afternoon, and
often in the middle of the night. But that wasn't a detail
Cathy's mother needed to know.


============================================================
Chapter 11

_The New York Times_
"Lolita Will Never Be Cured"

On the two-year anniversary of the Lolita Syndrome, a
revolutionary sort of argument that was made a mere eight months
ago has now been accepted by most scientists: No permanent
treatment for the Lolita bug will ever be found. They can prove
it. Microbiological proof.

We've all had this hope that we would find a cure, like we have
for so many infectious diseases. We were suffering through a war,
a low point, a Great Depression, and when we came through we
would remember these as the bad years when we struggled but
eventually we triumphed.

We will not succeed in returning the world to its previous
configuration. What now? We must adapt our thinking. We have no
choice.

Where is Lolita on its two-year anniversary?

No girls who get treated are dying of it. They never get the
intense digestive distress that they did in the early days. Girls
are content to have sex with a man or older boy once a month.
There are enough men and boys to service the girls, and they are
content (and sometimes very happy) in their role. There is
increasing evidence that the girls will not be seriously
traumatized later in life.

On the whole, all is well. What do we see when we look more
closely?

Girls react differently to the demands of Lolita.

A small minority dislike the sex intensely. Some refuse
preventive sex and submit only during Lolita episodes. It is a
disgusting treatment that seems well suited to a disgusting
illness, and they know they've never had a single treatment that
wasn't medically necessary. Others put up with preventive sex
every other month, disliking it intensely but realizing they have
no real choice.

The majority put up with it and consider it no big deal. They may
develop a friendship of sorts with the man who treats them.
Sometimes they do it a little more often than medically necessary
-- a way of making it a little warmer emotionally that seems to
appeal to both the girls and men.

Then there is a large minority with a different reaction. They
might enjoy the sex a little bit in and of itself, but they
definitely enjoy making big boys and men happy. They seek out sex
with multiple partners. And then, if you have more than one
asking for an opportunity for sex, why not choose the one who
takes you out for ice cream or buys you dolls or clothes or that
latest video game? They have crossed the line into prostitution.
But they *need* sex to stay healthy, so why not adjust the
quantity and circumstances to their advantage? One consequence of
Lolita is that boys are also having sex at much younger ages --
the girls naturally enough seek out sex with the boys they like.

Many parents try to control or limit this behavior, but attitudes
are getting more relaxed. One reason is some recent research
findings.

Women are biologically wired to care very much who they have sex
with. It is an evolutionary adaptation with two strands. First,
their genes will be paired with those of their mate in the next
generation, and the woman wants to have them be the best genes
she can get. Second, she wants a man to help raise her children,
so she wants a man who will stick around. Basically, she wants to
get married before she has sex. Being a slut or a prostitute both
go strongly against her instincts. Women do both things, of
course, but they come at a steep emotional price.

The new research shows that this pickiness about sexual partners
only appears in a female's psyche as puberty starts. The young
girls who trade sex for favors or just to make lots of men happy
will be free of such consequences if they stop in time.

A girl never has a Lolita attack after her first period. She will
usually become immune to attacks before that, but few people want
to find out just when. She goes from needing sex that she isn't
biologically primed to desire to desiring sex that she doesn't
biologically need any more. It is naturally difficult to get
girls to stop having sex just when they start wanting it. With
reliable contraception freely available and no STDs to worry
about, few parents see any point.

One emotional danger has to do with bonding: As girls approach
puberty, they tend to bond to their sex partner. Countless girls
fell in love with the men who were dutifully protecting their
health.

If the goal is to wean girls off sex, there is a procedure to
follow. Whenever a girl first shows any signs of physical
development, her parents should find a different treater for her
each time. They should also choose men or boys who she won't find
very appealing or attractive.

But weaning a girl off sex is often an unrealistic goal. A girl
is free to choose her own sex partners, and often a teenage boy
or man will be interested in a steady, ongoing relationship with
her. Some of those relationships work; we expect many girls will
start having sex with their future husbands at age 9 and live
happily ever after. Others don't work, and we are faced with the
timeless anguish of teen love and breakup, except that it begins
much younger and is far more common. In the old days, a lot of
boys and girls actually did wait into their late teens or beyond
before they first had sex and unleashed the most powerful forces
of romantic love and attachment. Boys still have that option if
they want, but girls don't.

Another emerging consequence is that it's notably harder for
women to find husbands, and even harder for young women to find
boyfriends.

Among the approximately one quarter of all men who are equally
attracted to young girls and women, there is a competition. The
women mostly want men for a serious exclusive relationship that
has far more to it than sex. But their competition is a bevy of
cute little girls who happily spread their legs to reveal their
full-grown vaginas, demanding nothing but a moment's respect and
affection.

The more serious competition comes from the girls as they enter
puberty. Now their fresh bodies are attractive to almost all men
at a gut physical level. The girls are already comfortable with
sex. Suddenly their hormones turbocharge their desire. Many of
those who intensely disliked the sex before are now very
interested. Those who sought out multiple partners before now
have hormonal desire backing their inclinations. Some become
sluts on a prodigious scale, making the floor drop out of the
market for enthusiastic young teen vagina.

Women very often have to assume that their husbands and
boyfriends will also be having sex with girls. Market forces have
eroded many of the gains of feminism within a relationship, as
women compete to make men happy.

In one respect, Angry Scientist achieved his goal completely:
"Society's going to get a pie in the face on the big lie of just
how horrible and monstrous it is for men to be attracted to young
girls." When in the old days people spoke of pedophiles lurking
everywhere, they meant perhaps roughly 2 of every 100 men. That
was still plenty to justify caution. But they never dreamed that
every other man -- that is 1 in 2, or 50% -- can have
enthusiastic sex with a pre-pubescent girl.
 
Where were they hiding? They knew full well that any sexual
activity with girls was illegal. They knew how society felt
revulsion at the very idea of their attractions. They knew the
sex would be very bad for the girls psychologically. They knew
that the girls' bodies were not configured to allow intercourse
without serious physical trauma.

Most of these men are also attracted to mature women. Even those
who are more strongly attracted to girls than women are attracted
enough to women to develop a satisfying relationship.

A small minority of men is attracted only to pre-pubescent girls,
though it still dwarfs the number of child abusers from the old
days. How could this be? For some, fear of being caught deterred
them. But for most, they couldn't fulfill their sexual desire
except through rape, and like most of us, they would never rape
the objects of their affection. They knew they were destined to
spend their lives without the kind of love or sex they craved,
and they accepted it silently.
 
---------------------------------------------------------

It was Saturday morning, and Jon woke happily to the smell of
coffee and bacon wafting from the kitchen. In short order, Alison
appeared to serve it in her negligee. She had lost several
pounds, coming closer to the shape of the girl he had married.

He slept naked below the waist, and she now began gently
caressing his balls and cock. As he grew hard, she began a gentle
tongue motion, providing him with slow pleasure, but not so much
as to distract him from the Belgian waffles with fresh
strawberries or from the web article he was reading.

He wondered just which way he'd like her this morning. Often he'd
let her ride him. She always got herself very hot with the
Hitachi before she even served him his breakfast, so she never
took more than five minutes. But today he figured it would be
just for him. When she had cleared the dishes away he pointed to
the floor and she knew to assume doggy position there. He was
especially horny and let his urges go. He rammed her upper cunt
deep, and he came in 20 seconds. She could finish herself off
later with the Hitachi if she felt like it.

This arrangement was part of the deal he had with Alison. Betsy's
mother was as crazy as ever, and her custody always seemed to be
provisional. Betsy's hormones had started surging, and the
possibility she clamored for constantly was to move in with Jon
as his concubine. Jon knew the fantasy would never work as
reality, but Alison apparently didn't, and he saw no need to
convince her. It motivated her to keep him happy, and she was
doing a good job of it.

Structuring their sex life more to Jon's liking had benefits for
Alison too. He accompanied her to a cultural event of her choice
at least once a month, usually a concert. With the right
attitude, he didn't really mind. Some of them were interesting.
He also mowed the lawn twice a week throughout the summer, which
he thought was dumb. But he did it for her.

He still got his magnificent blow jobs from little Michelle,
whose girlish cunt could not receive him, and he still gave
Lisette her monthly zesty, enthusiastic fuckings. She was
actually the start of his specialization: Four year olds. He was
plenty attracted to the littlest sufferers of the Lolita
Syndrome. He had 19 of them on his caseload at last count.

He had tried doing some of the girls for money: as a reliable
fucker of preschoolers his services were in demand. But somehow
it wasn't as much fun when he was getting paid. He had cut back
to half-time at his job so he'd have more time for his girls --
Alison earned plenty, as he saw it. She had seemed a little
disappointed when he had cut back.

Jon also had sex with Rhonda, a lovely 26-year-old at his office.
He didn't discuss the details of his preschool lovers with
Alison, so he saw no need to mention one more. He would never
leave Alison for her, but he did enjoy her company when they went
out a couple times a week. Rhonda said she knew it could never be
more than an affair, but he had a hunch she was hoping for more.
Polyamory had been enjoying an upsurge in popularity, which these
days always meant a man with more than one woman, never the other
way around. Men had more opportunities, and some women
reluctantly concluded that sharing a man was better than being
single. He wondered if he and Alison and Rhonda might be headed
that way.

The Lolita Syndrome was a terrible thing, but he reflected that
he was a happier man. Before, he was limited to cramped, routine
sex with Alison a few times a year. Now he had sex twice a day on
average, with Alison, Rhonda, Betsy, or one of his charming
preschoolers. Was he a pedophile? He didn't really care any more.
A new view was emerging that recognized that men had attractions
of varying strengths to females of different ages; each man had
his own graph. His ranged from girls just out of diapers right up
through women in their 80s. His attraction for the very young
ones was rather unusual, while his attraction to the 10-year-olds
was nothing remarkable.

Three new 4-year-olds showed up in his email. His Yelp ratings
were excellent, so he had far more offers than he could accept.
It was easy to reject two of the new ones, but the third was very
sweet and cute. She had a vibrant smile and did a charming dance
on her video. It was no surprise when the dance ended with her
pulling her panties down in a tease, then spreading her legs
wide, spreading her labia, and pointing right at her pussy hole
with a gleam in her eyes.

His cock surged to hardness as he watched. Yes, he would take her
on to protect her from the dread disease. He would be very happy
to take her.

============================================================

What did you think? I'm always eager for comments, whether
positive, negative or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com.

The premise is totally unrealistic. But given the premise, I've
tried to follow it through realistically (except for a bit of
exaggeration in the sex department to keep it spicy). I'm
especially interested in whether and how you think my portrayal
of male and female reactions to the situation falls short.