Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Kid Shoot
Keywords: gM, ped, oral, cons
Author: Tey Reynolds Robinson

   Dean dawdled as much as possible during his morning routine because he
did not look forward to what the day's gig held in store for him.

   His task: video a young girl model as she eats a toaster pastry.  It was
for a TV commercial.  Should be easy.  Should.  He almost didn't take the
gig, considering the way his last job was.

   He was shooting three girls, all about ten, as they played around a
campfire in their swimsuits.  It was for a clothing catalog.  The problem
was that what clothing they were wearing (lascivious two-pieces that were
just a bit too eye-brow raising for ten year-olds) were being forcibly
plucked from them by each other's playful fingers.  One giggling girl would
lean over and pull at the draw-strings of another's top, letting it fall
and letting her clutch to keep her garment in place.  And Dean was expected
to photograph this.

   "Why are you having trouble with this?  It's not like it's sexual. 
They're children, for Pete's sake.  Now come on and get this shot of Tina
getting her bottoms pulled down."

   That was his boss on that job, a soccer-mom type who didn't seem to
understand why three young girls trying to strip themselves in front of him
made him uncomfortable.  He quit that job when it got a little too much. 
At least this one didn't involve clothing.

   *****

   "Alright, I think we're about ready," Dean's new boss said as the
toaster oven dinged.  The rugged-looking man took a toaster pastry from the
oven and slid it in front of a pretty young girl, who looked up at him as
if awaiting permission to dig in.  She was perhaps twelve, with mahogany
hair and twinkling dark eyes, and her name was Kate.

   Dean was re-checking the lighting on her fair face as the girl and the
boss-man waited, and then he gave the okay.

   "Okay," said the boss-man.  "Now Kate, just go ahead and eat the pastry,
but don't eat it like you normally would.  Mr.  Dean here has to get as
much usable footage as he can, so take slow bites.  Savor it.  Get a little
more messy than you normally would.  That's the kick with this ad.  Oh, I
forgot, the frosting."

   The man left the small kitchen table where their filming was to commence
and returned quickly with a plastic package.  He squeezed out white
frosting onto the pastry in a zig-zag pattern, being as careful as possible
to make it look photogenic, and then he gave Dean an "a-ok" hand signal,
and the shooting commenced.

   Dean watched through his viewing screen as Kate carefully picked up the
pastry, propping it up on her fingers and taking the first tentative bite.
Flakes of cooked crust fell onto her lips as she pulled her mouth back,
oozing a string of fruit filling between her lips and the treat.  How
erotic could this be?  he thought.

   Erotic enough.  Kate was hypnotizing to watch, her dark pool eyes
drifting as she ate, a legitimate smile forming as she licked up filling
from the end of the pastry.  It was a moment after that that Dean realized
he'd been completely still and wasn't focusing on the camera.  He tried to
resume a work mindset.

   "Great, Kate," boss-man said.  "How's it looking, Dean?"

   "Uuuh, p-pretty good..."

   Kate sucked the tip of her finger clean and closed her eyes.

   "Might have to do a couple more takes," Dean added.

   "Oh really?  We don't have a lot of pastries to keep using like this."

   "Sorry, this take was a little out of focus," Dean said.  He wasn't
lying.  Kate stopped accosting her snack and started looking between the
two men as they talked.

   "Come on, I thought you were a professional photographer," boss-man
said. "How do you forget to keep the camera focused?"

   "Sorry," Dean repeated.  "I was just a bit...  distracted, I guess."

   The boss-man looked from Dean to Kate, who still had flakes of crust and
icing lining her lips.

   "Oh, I see," he said.  "Well hell, go rub one off real quick if you need
to."

   "Excuse me, what?" Dean said.  Kate didn't seem to react to this
suggestion at all; he couldn't believe the boss-man had said it in front of
her.

   "Take a break and let off some steam, if it'll help.  No big deal."

   Dean didn't know what to say.  He stared at his boss, and then looked at
Kate, who stared at him, and then he stood up, slowly turned, and shuffled
out of the room.

   This was exactly the type of situation that made him quit his last job,
he mused as he walked aimlessly in the outer room.  After the incredibly
awkward campfire shoot--which was the third or fourth awkward scene he had
to do for that client, following a poolside scene and a slumber party
scene--he had experienced an incredible sinking feeling in his gut as he
was presented with his next assignment: girls sitting on a sidewalk curb
eating popsicles.

   Pleasuring popsicles was more like it.  They weren't really eating them
as much as they were licking the length of them and suckling on the tips
whilst casting mischievous glances at each other.

   "I just think that maybe this is a little too suggestive, you know?"
Dean had protested in the middle of shooting.

   "What are you talking about?  They're just eating popsicles for Christ's
sake!  What's suggestive about that?"

   The client's husband was there that day, and during this exchange he
stared at Dean as if he had suddenly taken off his fake human mask and
revealed himself as a monster.  He quit during lunch.  That wasn't a fun
day.

   With the memory of those girls ravishing their sugar falluses and Kate's
icing-decorated face hanging even more clear, Dean stepped into the small
hallway bathroom to take up boss-man's advice.  He wasn't even a pedophile;
never had thought sexually about a child before in his life.  And he would
be the first person to grab a pitchfork at news of a man caught abusing a
little girl.  But his dick operated under much simpler rules.

   He propped up the lid of the toilet, unzipped his fly, and got to
business.  He had to wrangle his cock out of its prison, and he couldn't
recall himself ever being this hard or ready to burst.  His hand on his
shaft was like a dose of morphine, and he leaned his head back and thought
of Kate licking his cock.

   The door opened and Kate herself appeared by his side.

   "Holy sh-- oh my god, honey, I'm sorry, I--"

   But she had seen everything.  She stood before him, with his cock out
and rigid in his grip, pointing proudly to the sky, and her eyes turned
down to it and she smiled, and then she beamed back up at him.  Somehow
this made him even harder.

   "I wanna help," she said.  There was an expectant look in her eyes, and
Dean was struck silent, petrified with his petrified tool, so that he
neither approved or disapproved of her idea.  She reached out and touched
him there.  Her fingers were cold.

   He dropped his hand and let her play with him.  Her grip was firm, but
not as firm as his, but she pumped him playfully, dutifully awaiting his
discharge.  Dean didn't want to look away, and at the same time felt a
level of shame at letting this happen.  But the glee on Kate's face as she
watched his quickly-glistening head helped washed that shame away.  He
became proactive.  He touched her shoulder and she looked up at him, never
stopping her hand, and he took his cock from her and faced her squarely.

   His dick completely in charge of his actions now, he followed its
commands and rubbed it on Kate's face.  She giggled as he pressed it
against her cheek, brushed it across her lips to the other cheek and poked
at it.  The pillow-sensations were barely felt, but the vision coupled with
it was heaven.  He traced his tool down her neck and then popped up to the
other side of her face, laying his cock lengthwise on her.  She nuzzled it
like a puppy.

   And that was the image that put him over edge.  He stepped back and took
himself in his hand.  Katy seemed to know exactly what was going to happen
and half-crouched before him, smiling even wider.  Dean pumped furiously
now, felt the wave build deep within and rush out to smack on her lips.

   She stifled a laugh and he kept coming.  Shot number two, three, and
four all landed across her mouth; vertical white stripes on her thin red
lips, barely parted.  He was still pumping when the last shot was long
expelled.  He was still pumping when she stood to full height, dark eyes
illuminated, and touched the semen on her face.  He was still pumping when
she turned and rushed out of the bathroom.

   "Wha--" Dean called out, but she was gone.  Lucidity returned to him and
he suddenly knew for certain that he was in what was called, "deep shit."
But then boss-man's voice carried from the kitchen.

   "Oh, great!  Now we don't have to worry about using more frosting. 
Dean! Get out here and get a shot of this."

   Dean stood dumbfounded with his dick in his hands, and all thoughts of
quitting the job were quickly dashed.