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   Jenny's Couch, part 9 (Karen's Hallowe'en 1) (Mg, ped, mast, oral,
humil, forced-exhib, body-mod, piercing) by Rufus Fugit

   Renee was a pirate.  This was the year of Harry Potter but the
ever-independent third-grader was having none of that.  Hermione was "stuck
up" and Ginny was "whiny", and the boys were, well, boys.  Ick.  No, she
wanted to be a pirate, and not just any pirate - Captain Jack Sparrow!  (I
hadn't asked why it was OK to be a boy pirate but not a boy magician.) But
Captain Jack it was.  Her hair was braided and pinned up beneath a black
fright wig that had been trimmed and twisted into greasy dreads, and the
trimmings were spirit-gummed under her nose and along her jawline as a
scraggly beard and mustache.  She was wearing a cardboard tricorn hat with
a crude skull-and-crossbones, a disco-era white shirt we'd found in a
thrift store with big cuffs and puffy, bloused-out sleeves and perhaps the
ugliest brocade vest in Christendom, another thrift-store find.  We'd taken
a pair of cheap black sweatpants that were about her size and cut off the
elastic at the cuffs so they flapped loosely around her ankles.  My black
leather belt wrapped twice around her little waist and in it were stuck a
plastic sword and two plastic flintlock pistols.  At least I think they
were supposed to be flintlocks, but whoever designed their mold had had
little idea what the actual weapons should look like.  Not that I cared
that much.  Black pirate boots were hard to come by in nine-year-old sizes,
so we'd settled for coolie slippers and black socks.  All in all, it was a
pretty nice ensemble.

   The girls were in my truck with me, on the two-hour drive out of the
city to my neighborhood.  This was a little present from me to everyone in
Jenny's family.  Her continuing ed course was complete, as was my onsite
job in town, so my month of sleeping on their couch - and fucking
eleven-year-old Karen daily - was over.  Rob's work schedule had also eased
up considerably.  So my gift was to offer Jenny and Rob a weekend to
themselves, to take the girls to my house for trick-or-treating and a
weekend sleepover.  As for the girls, the present was that my neighborhood
was renowned for its trick-or-treating.  Where some subdivisions competed
for the brightness and bad taste of their Christmas light displays, ours
went for the scariness and silliness of Halloween decorations - plus, the
neighborhood association put on a great fireworks display after the kids
had made their rounds.  Someone had thought that up as a way to keep the
older kids from indulging in post-trick-or-treat vandalism as recreation.
It mostly worked, but it helped also that we were a semi-rural area with
the houses mostly set back on lots of an acre or more.  It was too much
walking for your average teenager just to break stuff.

   Karen was a cat, but her initial position had been that at eleven and a
half she was just too cool to go trick-or-treating - especially with her
little sister - and so she hadn't put much thought into a costume.  Then
when she found out she was coming with me she panicked - the neighborhood
was famous for the effort kids put into their costumes just as much as the
adults put into their houses because at the fireworks, the neighborhood
association gave out prizes for the best outfits.  Some of the adults were
designated secret judges each year.  They chose from the kids that came to
their houses, then compared notes during the fireworks and made the awards
afterwards.  Karen had more than a bit of the social climber in her and in
fifth grade that meant, among other things, bragging rights from a Best
Costume prize.  And she knew that a black leotard, greasepaint nose and
whiskers, and a kitty-ear headband wouldn't cut it in this crowd.

   So when I told the kids the plan for the weekend, while Renee was
jumping up and down for joy Karen immediately started into whining about
how her costume was lame, and she didn't want to go because the other kids
would laugh at her.  We were nearly to my house and she still hadn't let
up, and I had had it.  "God DAMN, give it up!" I finally shouted.  "You
want a better costume?  Fine!  I can get you a better costume.  Is that
what you want?" I glanced from the road to look down at her face.  She
looked startled and a little fearful at my outburst.  I rarely yelled at
the children but when I did unpleasant things often followed.  Her blue
eyes widened but she nodded and quietly said, "Yes, sir."

   "Okay, then," I answered more quietly.  "But it won't be free.  You'll
have to earn it.  You know what I mean?" To make it absolutely clear I
reached down to cup her crotch, squeezing to feel the firm, fleshy lips
beneath the thin leotard.  I could feel the heat of her through the
stretched fabric.  Karen grimaced at my touch, but she raised and opened
her thighs slightly on the bench seat.  I rubbed the fabric against her
delicate sex and within a few seconds the fifth-grader was humping up
against my hand, giving herself to the arousal she had come to crave so
desperately.  She leaned her head against the seat back.  The late
afternoon sun slanting through the windshield showed a fine sheen of sweat
popping out on her high forehead.  As I continued to masturbate her through
her clothing her eyelids drifted half-closed, her wide, red lips parted and
a pink flush rose on her cheekbones.  The truck cab was well-insulated and
I could hear the child panting raggedly over the quiet hum of the engine.
My fingers dampened as her preteen cunt began to weep inside the snug
leotard.

   Renee had ignored Karen's whining at first, as she had been ignoring it
for most of the day, but my shouting had caught her attention, and now she
was looking with interest at my hand busy in her big sister's crotch.  Over
the past month she had learned well her part in this game.  As Karen began
to roll her head from side to side on the seat back, Renee leaned forward
to speak to me across her sister.  "She's acting like a whore again, isn't
she?"

   Karen responded with a soft, drawn-out moan, and her hips began to
wriggle more energetically against the seatbelt.  A fresh surge of juvenile
cunt cream squished up through her panties and wet my fingertips.  Glancing
down, I could see the beginnings of a darker stain against the black
fabric. I chuckled.  "She sure is, Renee.  She can't help herself, can you,
Karen?" I raised my hand from her lap and the fifth-grader involuntarily
responded by pushing her crotch upwards, trying to restore the pleasurable
touch.  She made little "uh, uh," sounds of strain as I held my hand just
out of reach.  "Can you?" I repeated.

   "No!" she exclaimed, her eyes screwed tight shut now.  Then, in a softer
half-sob, "Nooo." She drew a deep breath, "I'm...I'm a whore." Her cheeks
were burning now with shame as much as arousal but I instantly rewarded her
humiliating admission, pressing my hand back against her.  I pushed my
middle finger between her labia, feeling for her swelling clitoris through
the leotard.  As I rubbed vigorously her sister and I began our familiar
chant, filling the cab with a perverse road song.  "Karen is a who-ore,
Karen is a who-ore, a whory whory who-ore!"

   Before long Karen was tossing her head back and forth and writhing in
her seat restraints.  Her waist-length blonde hair was loose and swung back
and forth.  Her feet were kicking gently, sliding against the dash and
waving in the air.  She was moaning loudly, "No...nuhh....naaaAH!" as her
breathing rasped unevenly in her throat.  Her lap was soaked through with
her secretions and the cab heater carried the piquant scent of her
adolescent juices to my nose.

   Over the past month we had all come to know the patterns of her arousal.
Just as she was climbing to her peak, her skinny little ass bouncing on the
seat, I took my hand away.  Karen stiffened and thrust her pubis up,
pushing against the cushions with thighs and shoulders.  A high-pitched
rhythmic groan forced itself out of her young throat as her frustration
built.  After a few seconds she tried to push her own little hands into her
hot bald snatch, but I slapped at her and grabbed one wrist.  "Hands off!"
I ordered her.  "Hands off, if you want a better costume.  Or you can go
out like you are now - 'trick or treat,'" I mimicked, "'Trick or treat, I'm
a whore, look at my dripping wet babycunt!'" Indeed, her entire lap was
visibly soaked, a wet stain making the thin leotard semitransparent and
clearly showing the pale blue panties underneath.  With a final gasping
sigh of protest, Karen subsided, clasping her hands tightly together across
her stomach.  She still rubbed her thighs together surreptitiously and I
let that pass because I knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself off that
way.  Ultimately it would just frustrate the child further and keep her hot
and desperate, which suited my plans perfectly.

   After a few more miles we turned off the highway onto the hilly country
road that led into my neighborhood.  But instead of heading for my house I
turned onto a winding gravel road, following it for some distance until it
led down into a little hollow and ended in front of a low, rambling brick
house.  The yard had been allowed to run wild and was mostly overgrown. 
The carport was full of cans, buckets, and jugs, at least two large
compressors, and other less identifiable equipment.  Nosing into the
carport was a spotless conversion van with a striking custom airbrushed
paint job.  We got out of the van into the brisk wind.  It had been a warm
day but the shadows from the surrounding hills were already creeping across
the house.  Karen, thin-blooded child that she was, shivered slightly as
the wind blew across her wet crotch.  Even Renee hugged herself a little
against the chill.  "Hellooo the house!" I called out.  "Nate, you in
there?"

   "C'mon in," a strong, deep voice called back to us through the screen
door.  I headed up the walk with the girls trailing behind me.  I held the
door open and ushered them in.  The front room was cluttered, warm, and
dim, but light spilled from a doorway in the far wall.  The voice called
from it, "I'm back in the studio, man." We walked on through the doorway
and the girls stopped, stunned and enchanted.  The room stretched the width
of the house and the back wall was entirely covered by an airbrushed mural.
It was a fantasy cityscape.  Dragons flew over basketball courts where
dwarves stood on each others' shoulders to challenge fairies and trolls. 
King Kong and Godzilla clung to adjacent skyscrapers sharing a 55-gallon
drum of beer.  Robot strippers pole-danced in the window of a club, disco
lights bouncing off their steel breasts.

   "Hey, man, what's up?" Sitting at a table with his back to us was a
broadly-built black man.  Mocha-colored skin contrasted with a spotless
white sleeveless undershirt.  The muscles in his arms bunched and relaxed
as he pushed his wheelchair away from the table and spun to face us.  His
hair was cropped short but he wore a full beard and mustache, unusual in
their thickness for someone of his ethnicity.  He smiled and the skin
wrinkled easily into laugh lines framing merry brown eyes.  Facing us his
muscular torso was outlined, pecs pushing against the fabric of his shirt.
But the reason he was in the chair was clear - his legs were withered and
emaciated, the bones pushing out beneath parchment-thin skin." These must
be your little nieces," he said as he wheeled across the floor to us. 
"Nice to meetcha both."

   "Girls, this is Mister Nate.  Nate, this is Renee and this is Karen,
that I told you about."

   "What happened to your legs?" Renee blurted out.  "Did you paint all
this?  How did you reach the high parts?"

   "Renee!" I grabbed her shoulder.  "That's impolite!  You apologize to
Mister Nate for prying.  right now!"

   "That's ok, man," Nate chuckled.  "Better she ask right out than spend
the whole time pretending not to stare, like grownups do.  I was in a car
wreck, honey, a long time ago.  It broke my spine and now my legs don't
work any more.  And yeah, I painted all this.  That's why you guys are
here, right?"

   "Yep," I replied.  "Karen's not happy with her costume, and I thought
you could paint her up something better before we go trick-or-treating."

   Karen looked up at me.  This was the first she was hearing it, of
course, but as she looked around she quickly realized that Mister Nate was
a talented artist.  He could probably paint her face and make her look like
a real cat.  Maybe even paint her leotard, too - it was just bought for the
costume, so it wouldn't matter if it got ruined.

   "Sure I can," Nate replied, wheeling himself over to sit before Karen.
He was just about at eye-level with her in his chair.  He put his large
brown hands on her shoulders.  He had the long, tapering fingers of an
artist.  "But first things first, right?" and so saying, he grabbed the
neckline of her leotard and yanked it down.  Karen was completely
unprepared for this and before she could react her upper arms and chest
were bared.  Her puffy nipples popped out over the top of the dark fabric.

   Karen leapt backwards in shock.  "Hey!" she shouted, trying to cross her
arms protectively over her chest.  I had stepped behind her, though, and so
she collided with me and I seized her arms and held them at her sides,
preventing her from covering up.  She began struggling futilely.

   "Honey, I told you, you'd have to earn a good costume.  Mister Nate is a
professional artist.  He doesn't work for free."

   "But I thought I'd just...with you," she whined as she twisted
impotently in my grasp.

   "Just...what?" I said, smiling over her head at Nate.

   "You know!  That we would..." she lowered her voice "...fuck...and then
you'd pay..."

   "Honey, that's silly.  I don't have that kind of money.  Mister Nate is
a professional artist," I repeated.  "A costume like he's going to make you
costs a lot, right Nate?"

   "Three-four hundred dollars," Nate agreed.  He was trying to put on an
expression of puzzled innocence, but his smirk broke through.  "Something
wrong, man?  I thought you told me Karen was such a hot little whore...?"

   Karen went rigid with shock.  She craned her head back to look at me,
tears welling in her blue eyes.  "You TOLD him?  He KNOWS I'm a..." she
couldn't say it.

   "'Course he does," I replied with studied nonchalance.  "How else were
you going to pay him, silly?  When I told Mister Nate what a hot, tasty
little babycunt you have, and how much you like to fuck and suck cock, he
was nice enough to offer to let you work it off."

   The words struck Karen like hammer blows.  She seemed to shrink into
herself.  Now she truly felt stripped naked, her secrets exposed to this
stranger sitting before her.  "But...I only...with you..." she stammered
out, and began to cry.

   I ignored her tears, just as I ignored her weak struggles to get free.
"Sure, but that was just practice.  I'm not going to be around forever, you
know.  Sooner or later you gotta go out on your own.  You're going to have
sex with lots and lots of different people.  Mister Nate is a good one to
start with.  He's nice, he's my friend - and he'll make you look really
really good for Halloween.  But hey, if you'd rather go trick-or-treating
the way you are..."

   I could feel Karen's heart pounding as I held her pressed against me. 
She was panting as if she'd just run a sprint.  She looked at the black man
smiling at her from his wheelchair.  Oh, god, she thought, he knows, he
knows.  But he didn't look repulsed or disgusted.  He looked friendly.  And
then, her status-consciousness reasserted herself as she thought, and he'll
make me a really good costume...  "OK," she said timorously.  "But, but,
how do we..."

   "What?" I prompted.

   Now she was blushing.  "How do we...fuck...in the chair?"

   Nate chuckled and we shared a look.  He hadn't believed me that it would
be so easy to get eleven-year-old Karen to prostitute herself to him.  "You
don't have to worry about that, kiddo.  My legs don't work and my penis
doesn't, either.  But there's other stuff we can do."

   Renee piped up again.  "Your penis doesn't work?  So you can't have an
orgasm?  That's sad!"

   Nate looked at the younger girl.  He didn't take pity from anyone, least
of all a child, but her face was so open, her empathy so genuine that he
couldn't take offense.  "Yeah, it's not so bad.  There's other stuff I can
do." Then he seemed to realize how much knowledge of anatomy and sexuality
was implied by the third-grader's simple statement.  "Do you have orgasms?"
he asked.

   "Oh, yeah, they're lots of fun!  Uncle taught me how to masturbate, and
now we're lovers."

   "Lovers, huh?" Nate looked at me, his eyes dancing.  "What is she,
eight?"

   "I'm nine!"

   "Nine years old.  Man..." he shook his head.

   "Right back atcha, dude," I responded, pushing Karen forwards at him. 
"You think three pubes make a difference?"

   "Naw, I don't guess so.  C'mere, Karen, let me get a good look at you."
Slowly, the older girl stepped forward.  When she was in reach, Nate
reached out and grasped her leotard again and tugged.  Karen reluctantly
uncrossed her arms and dropped them to her sides, allowing Nate to pull the
garment all the way down.  She couldn't meet his eyes as he stared at her
pink, cherry-sized nipples.  She was gasping with anxiety and she could
feel herself blushing from the top of her head down to her toes.  I could
even see the red flush creeping across her bony shoulder blades as Nate
continued to strip her.  When her blue panties were revealed Nate hooked
his fingers into them and pulled them down too.  The damp fabric peeled off
Karen's barely-fuzzed mound and her smooth slit.  The skin shone with
moisture and a creamy smear clung to one lip.  Nate got the clothing down
as far as her knobby knees, but he was unable to lean further forward.

   Karen watched as he straightened and reached out, rubbing his thumbs
across nipples that had stiffened with her anxiety.  She gasped as his
strong brown fingers gently tugged at each pale nub in turn. 
"Ooh...ooh...ah!" the breath huffed out of her in surprised pleasure as the
muscular black man molested her.

   "You like that, Karen?" Nate asked, and she gulped and nodded as little
waves of warmth spread from her nipples.  "Look at me, Karen, look in my
eyes." Nate tugged a little harder on the stiffening flesh to emphasize. 
Karen raised her head slowly to obey.  Her cheeks were flaming, and she
knew she'd gone bright red as the reality of the situation washed over her:
she was naked in front of a stranger.  She'd only just met this man, and in
a minute she'd be doing some kind of sex with him.  It wasn't pretend, it
wasn't a dream.  "It's true.  I really am a whore," she said to herself and
felt the familiar surge of shame - but mixed in she felt a strange pride,
pride that these grown men desired her, pride that her body was so pretty
that men would pay to touch it.  She raised her head high and even managed
a smile.

   Nate slid one hand down to her belly, still childishly rounded, and
further down across her prominent smooth mound, brushing the pale fuzz just
beginning to grow in.  He slid a finger between Karen's swelling labia,
feeling the heat and wetness from her core.  He wiggled his finger up and
down, teasing her clitoris which was already peeking out of its fleshy
hood. Karen gave a sharp, low moan and her knees buckled a bit.  "She's
ready, man," I urged my friend.  "Go on, get your money."

   Nate sat back up abruptly.  He spun his chair around and wheeled back to
the low table he'd been working at when we came in.  He beckoned to Karen.
She was bound at the knees by her leotard and panties and almost fell as
she tried to walk, but caught herself and hobbled across the room.  Nate
cleared a space on the table and had Karen sit on the edge.  He put a big
brown hand flat in the center of her naked chest and pushed her down onto
her back.  He pulled her shoes off and then grabbed at the fabric between
her knees and with a single sweep dragged the leotard down and off,
dropping it on the floor, leaving Karen dressed only in her kitty ear
headband.  He grabbed her skinny legs behind the knees, raised them wide
and high, and dived between them.

   "AHH!" Karen yelled in shocked pleasure as she felt Nate's tightly
curled beard scrape against her sensitive thighs.  She writhed and groaned
as his tongue rasped over her labia and dug between them into her bald
slit. She covered her face with her hands in a turmoil of embarrassment and
arousal.  She could feel the juice pouring out of her.  Nate lapped it up,
then stopped and Karen moaned as she felt a stinging, soothing, intolerably
delicious puff of air blow across her swelling clitoris.  Nate blew on the
dark nub of flesh, then nibbled and licked, marveling at its size and
firmness as it stood out proudly at the top of her opening.  "Ohhhhh, oh,
OH!" Karen moaned.  Remembering her training, she continued to vocalize. 
"Oh, my babycunt, eat me, eat my hot babycunt, pleeeeease.  Oh, suck me,
suck me, suck my button, ah, AH!" Her bare feet kicked up and down as Nate
continued his oral attack on her tender, pubescent girlhood.  Before long
she had taken her hands from her face and twined them in Nate's short
natural, pulling the black man's nose and mouth harder against her burning
cunny.

   Karen was making the little squeals and groans that meant she was close
to orgasm when Nate pulled back.  He put his hands on either side of her
swollen cunt, pinning her thighs wide open and flicking his thumbs across
her clitty.  "Damn, that's some tasty pussy you got there, Karen.  You're a
whore, ain'tcha?"

   Karen's ass was bouncing and wriggling on the table.  She twisted her
skinny torso from side to side, trying to hump her mound up against Nate's
hands.  "Nooooo," she cried out.

   But Nate insisted.  I'd clued him in that this would make her crazy. 
"You gotta say it, girl.  Say it for me," he repeated himself over the
child's moans.  "Say it, or I'll stop.  Say it!"

   "YES!" the child shrieked, her head rising off the table, cords standing
out in her neck.  "Yes!  I'm a whore!  I'm a whore!" and she collapsed
sobbing as this man, a stranger to her, buried his face back in her crotch.
Nate grabbed her clit between his lips and mauled it, dragging his tongue
back and forth across it, sucking hard on it.  He shoved a finger into her
slit and juice squelched out around it as he penetrated her.  "Ah-hah,
ah-HAH, ah-HAH, AH, AH, AAAAIEE!" Karen screamed out as an orgasm crested
over her.  Her legs kicked straight up in the air and her toes curled tight
as she spasmed.  Nate slurped eagerly at the flood of luscious girl cum
flowing out of her hairless cunt.

   Gradually Karen's body relaxed and her legs dropped to splay open on the
table as her climax receded.  From where Renee and I stood we could see the
soles of her feet, her thighs with Nate's strong back between them, and not
much else.  Nate looked back over his shoulder at me and I could see his
beard clotted with Karen's cunt cream.  "Whyn't you two sit down?  Karen's
got some more work to do to earn a full paint job." I took Renee's hand and
we sat down together on a worn-out, sprung couch behind us as Nate turned
back to her older sister.  He covered her nearly-bald mound with one large
brown hand, gently massaging her lower abdomen with his fingertips. 
Meanwhile he stroked his thumb gently up and down her slit until he found
her vaginal opening.  He pushed, and his thumb slid easily between the
puffy, slick lips.

   "Yessss....." Karen hissed at the penetration, then began to grunt
softly in her high voice as Nate slowly pistoned his thick digit in and out
of her.  "Mmmm...ugh...yessss...fuck my babycunt...ugh, fuck me, fuck me
harder, PLEASE fuck me," She spoke languorously, dreamily, almost
mechanically, repeating the phrases I'd taught her during the month of her
"training".  Her head rolled from side to side on the table, her long hair
tangling and fanning out on the hard surface.  She arched her back, pushing
against Nate's invading thumb, trying to force it deeper into her cunt. 
Her baby honey oozed freely out of her hole, dripping down her spread
thighs and puddling on the table surface.

   I never got tired of the sights and sounds (and smells!) of my
fifth-grade niece's degradation.  Knowing that I had created her, that I
had taken an innocent, naive girl and twisted her, fed her natural sexual
curiosity until it was a ravening beast that all but devoured her was
perhaps the ultimate turn-on for me.  I had spent the past two months
telling her she was a whore, forcing her to ever-lower depths of sexual
depravity.  I'd tossed token payments at her for the perverse acts she had
come to accept as normal but now for the first time it was really true. 
She was an eleven-year-old child, just barely into puberty, and she was
having sex with a stranger for money.

   Renee, on the other hand, was bored.  For most of the last month, the
sounds of Karen grunting and moaning towards orgasm had been the background
noise to doing her homework, watching tv, or eating her afterschool snack.
I'd fucked the older child nearly every day, in every different position I
could think of and some I'd had to look up.  Ostensibly I'd been just
teaching her the different ways people could tangle their bodies together,
but my actual goal had been to get Karen first used to, then expecting, and
finally desperately craving an adult cock thrust into her and fucking her
to orgasm.  On the days when we didn't fuck I'd forbidden her to
masturbate, sometimes forcing her to watch, hands motionless at her sides,
as Renee and I pleasured each other.  I'd even sat in her bedroom as she
went to sleep and ordered her to keep her hands outside the covers.  It
humiliated her to be treated like that; it humiliated her even more deeply
to realize that without my coercion she was completely unable to resist her
body's desire.

   Renee plopped herself onto my lap, ignoring her big sister sighing and
writhing and moaning towards her second orgasm just across the room.  "When
can we go trick-or-treating?" she asked, wriggling in my lap.  The weight
and warmth of her round little butt pressed against my swelling erection. I
pulled the child down to lay on her back on top of me, stroking my hands
down her flat, undeveloped chest and her rounded belly.  I pushed down into
the loose sweatpants of her costume and cupped her undeveloped sex, feeling
the warmth of it through her cotton panties.  She sighed and wiggled her
small body against my recumbent form.

   "We'll go soon, sweetie.  But it has to get dark first, and Mister Nate
has to make your sister's costume.  It's going to be a special costume, do
you know how?"

   I was interrupted by Karen reaching her second peak.  "Ah, oh, ooh, ow,
aaoow, OH, OH, YES, AH AHHHHHAAIEE!" The child shuddered and moaned, her
childish voice rising to a near-shriek as she twisted, impaled on Nate's
thumb.  Her skinny ass was sliding around in a pool of her juvenile cunt
cream.  As her voice trailed off into inarticulate whimpers I was confiding
part of my plans for the evening to Renee, who burst into giggles.  I took
the opportunity to slide my fingers under the legbands of her panties,
gently tugging her smooth labia apart with my fingers and tracing her hot,
moist slit.  She continued to giggle and writhe as I coaxed lubrication
from her child's vagina and spread it all over her hairless vulva.  Her
delicate scent rose to my nostrils, causing my cock pressed between her
little butt cheeks to pulse with pleasure.

   Nate, meanwhile, was amusing himself with Karen's clitoris.  The hood
was fully retracted and the oversized, wrinkled bud was standing straight
up, slick with wetness and flushed darkly in the overhead light.  He was
flicking it from side to side, watching how each touch made Karen's whole
body twitch.  "Don't wear her out, man," I called to him.  "She's got a
long night ahead of her.  You keep that up, she won't even be able to stand
up while you paint her." I slid my hands out of Renee's pants, gently
lifted her off my lap and set her on the couch, stood up and stepped over
next to Nate.  I looked down at Karen's naked, pubescent body.  Her chest
was heaving as she fought to catch her breath, her nipples stiff and dark
red with arousal.  Her kitty-ear headband was askew on her tangled hair,
strands of which were plastered across her sweaty forehead.  She stared
vacantly upwards, concentrating solely on the surges of pleasure radiating
from her overstimulated button.  She was even drooling a little.  I grabbed
her wrist and pulled her to a sitting position.  Her glazed eyes slowly
focused on me.  "Geez, look at the mess you made," I said in a tone of
amused disgust.  Karen hung her head as she gazed down at the pool of
slick, creamy ooze between her spread thighs.  "I'm sorry, Nate, I forgot
what a messy little whore she is." I dropped a rag I'd picked up into her
lap.  "Clean up your mess, will you, so Mister Nate can paint you."
Blushing, Karen wiped the rag back and forth across her crotch, wincing at
the feel of the rough fabric on sensitive tissues.  She stood up shakily
and dried her ass and the back of her thighs then sopped up the sticky pool
of her baby honey on the table's hard surface.

   Nate motioned to Karen to follow him as he wheeled over to the far end
of the room.  Still blushing, the young girl wobbled after him, trying to
get her breathing under control.  The two disappeared behind a screen and
we heard a compressor kick to life briefly.  Nate's rumbling bass was
answered by Karen's soft soprano, turning to giggles mixed with the hiss of
an airbrush.  I flopped down onto the couch and pulled Renee back into my
lap.  For the next twenty minutes I amused myself tickling and stroking her
soft skin.  I pushed one hand back into her pants and under her panties,
cupping her small, smooth sex and sliding my fingers teasingly up and down
her slit.  With my other hand I felt up her flat chest, lightly pinching
her tiny nipples through her costume.  I kissed and licked at her undefined
jawline beneath her glued-on beard.  I pressed my lips to the two lovely
moles that had been the gateway to my sexual obsession with the child,
inhaling her clean scent of soap and shampoo, seasoned with the piquant,
slightly musky odor of her baby cunt.  I whispered a request into her
delicate ear and she responded by groping down between her own legs,
grabbing at my cock where it pressed against my tight jeans.  She pressed
her small palm against it and slid up and down along the shaft.  I moaned
in appreciation and she smiled.

   We continued fondling each other until, with a flourish, Nate rolled
himself out from behind the screen, pushing Karen before him.  He herded
the naked child to where a mirror hung on the wall next to the couch where
she stopped to stare, stunned, at her image.  Renee and I were similarly
dumbstruck at Nate's artistry.  He had turned Karen into a leopard.  She
was tawny in color from hairline to ankles, varying from a lighter golden
color across her belly to a dark almost-brown on her legs and back.  Black
leopard spots speckled her body, blending with the base color.  There was
no pattern to the spots but without obvious placement they concealed her
nipples and bellybutton.  Subtle, precise shadings gave the appearance of
shadow, obscuring her bare slit.  Nate had even carefully painted her clit
to make it look less prominent even as it stood out with the child's
arousal.  Her face was overlaid with a stylized rendering of a big cat's
nose and markings.  If you didn't know it was Karen, you'd hardly have
recognized her.  The best part was he'd left her hands and feet bare and
painted her wrists and ankles to look like the elastic cuffs of a costume
bodysuit.  Her neck was also unpainted.  Nate had drawn a leotard collar
across the points of her collarbone, over her skinny shoulders and dipping
down to her shoulderblades in back.  The trompe l'oeil was amazing: In dim
light, you wouldn't be able to tell she was naked - which was just what I'd
hoped for.

   "Wow, Nate.  Karen, you look incredible.  Doesn't she look great,
Renee?" Renee laughed and clapped her hands, delighted at her big sister's
transformation.  Karen, for her part, looked amazed and thrilled.  She
turned this way and that, admiring her painted nude body in the mirror. 
(Her skinny ass did break the illusion of a costume a bit, as you could
clearly see each cheek and her crack between them, but I had a plan to deal
with that.) She curled her fingers into claws and growled at her image in
the mirror, striking a pose as fearsome as an eleven-year-old girl can
manage.  "So, do you like your costume?" I asked.  "Was it worth whoring
yourself to Mister Nate?"

   Karen's smile faltered for a second but not even my harsh language could
stop her preening.  "I love it!" she exclaimed.  "Thank you, Mister Nate."

   "You're welcome, Karen.  And thank YOU," he said to me.  "That's one
tasty little whore you got there." We both ignored the way Karen's
shoulders stiffened, but I smiled to myself.  It was now a familiar game
for me, to make sure that every present I gave her, every bit of happiness
I granted had to be leavened with reinforcement of her secret shame.  She
hardly noticed anymore, but the repeated emotional whipsawing had made her
entirely dependent on me for approval.

   "Hey, hang on," Nate continued, "I think I got some tiger eyes here
somewhere.  He turned to rummage in a drawer.  "C'mere, man, and take a
look at these.  Whad'ya think?" He was holding out a pair of yellow
cats-eye contacts, and something else.

   "Sure," I said softly, "But I have to take her home Sunday night.  Will
she be OK by then?  No marks?"

   "Oh, yeah, no problem," he answered.  "Just take 'em out before she goes
to bed tonight.  They're tiny, there won't even be a scab."

   "Let's do it, then." Turning, I raised my voice.  "Karen, have you ever
worn contact lenses?  No?  Well, take a look at these.  They'll make your
eyes look like a cat's.  Lie back down on the table and Mister Nate will
put them in." The child clambered back up on the table and lay on her back.
Nate peeled open the sterile package.  I pressed one hand gently on Karen's
forehead to hold her still and with my other thumb and forefinger held her
eye wide open while Nate gently seated the soft lens onto her eyeball.  She
blinked rapidly and her eyes began tearing.

   "Oww..." she said softly.  "That feels...weird."

   "You just have to get used to it," I replied.  "It'll be better in a few
minutes." I shifted my grip to her other eyelid and Nate repeated the
process.  Karen's blue eyes had been transformed to glowing yellow with a
black vertical slit of a pupil.  Together with the face paint she was now
nearly unrecognizable.

   "Ooooh," Renee had come over to the table and now she gasped in delight.
"Karen, you look freaky!  You're a cat!"

   "I wanna see!" Karen tried to lift up her head and roll off the table
but I did not release my grip on her forehead.  Instead, I pressed down
harder and nodded to Nate.  He reached out quickly and put his thumb and
forefinger on either side of the fifth-grader's delicate cupid's bow. 
Pinching hard, he pulled her upper lip away from her teeth.  His other hand
came up, revealing that he held a six-inch length of stiff titanium wire.
With a swift, sure motion, he pushed it into the compressed skin, piercing
parallel to the lip and threading it through and out the other side.

   Karen's eyes bugged out with the sudden, unexpected pain.  Her entire
body convulsed and her thin limbs went rigid.  Her palms and heels beat
against the table as she tried to wrench her head free, but I held her
firmly.  Her mouth stretched wide and she tried to scream but the shock was
so intense that all that came out was a strangled, high-pitched whistling
groan.  But Nate wasn't done.  He took a second wire and shoved it through
also, this one at a shallow angle.  He took a little longer to seat it
properly; I saw the skin bulge out as he slowly pressed the needle-sharp
wire home, until it broke through the surface just under Karen's slightly
turned-up nose.  Then a third wire went in, this one at the opposite angle,
and Nate released his pincer grip.  The skin snapped back, pulling and
spreading the piercings and pushing the ends of the wires slightly forward.
Karen had whiskers.

   The pain had literally taken Karen's breath away.  She was gasping and
shuddering, her chest heaving.  As I pressed her head against the table and
looked down into her shocked, agonized expression, I was as hard as I could
ever remember being.  I ground my cock against the table edge, near to
ejaculating in my pants.  My visceral reaction to what was, no denying it,
torture and mutilation of the eleven-year-old disturbed me.  This was a
long step beyond the merely emotional and sexual abuse to which I had been
subjecting her.  It was a dark road that perhaps I shouldn't have started
down.  But there was no time to think about that now.  I stepped back and
Karen, unrestrained, tumbled off the table.  She was half-crazed with fear
and pain.  Eyes clamped shut, she ran around in little circles.  Finding
her voice, she began screaming wordlessly.  She clapped her hands to her
mouth but then jerked them away as pressing against the wires made them
twist and move in the fresh piercings, flashing new waves of agony across
her face.  She howled even louder, stumbled and fell to her knees.  Naked,
she curled up on the cool tile floor, crying wildly.

   I let her cry for a minute, then bent down to sit beside her.  I brushed
her long blond hair away from her face, taking care not to snag it on the
wires.  I grasped her bare skinny shoulders and pulled her up to a sitting
position.  Tears poured down her face - looking quite bizarre coming out of
her cat's-eye contacts - and her painted nipples heaved as she cried. 
"Shhh, shhh, Karen, it's all right, it'll be OK, it'll stop hurting in a
minute."

   "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?" She screamed.  "OH, IT HURTS, IT HURTS!"

   I took her head firmly in my hands, tangling my fingers in her hair.  "I
know it does, sweetie, but it'll feel better soon." I made my voice as
soothing as I could.  "It's just part of your costume, and it looks
terrific.  Shh, it's OK." I hugged the naked preteen to me and we sat there
on the floor for a couple of minutes as she cried.  At first she resisted
being comforted by the author of her agony but before long she gave in. 
She was, after all, a small child in a strange place.  I was familiar, if
nothing else, and the past weeks had made her deeply dependent on me for
emotional approval.  I stroked the knobs of her spine down her bare back,
letting my fingers drift into the crack of her ass.  Her painted skin was
warm.  Gradually as her initial shock faded and the pain subsided to a dull
throb, she quieted.  When her sobs had diminished to gulping hiccups and I
felt her relaxing against me, I grasped her shoulders and pulled her to her
feet.  "You have to see this, you look so amazing." I led her tenderly over
to the mirror and let her gaze at herself.

   Karen stared in wonderment at the apparition staring back at her.  It
wasn't Karen, the pretty blond fifth-grader.  She saw a wild animal.  She
raised a hand and gingerly touched the wires protruding from beneath her
nose, wincing at the sting of the fresh wounds.  She explored the inside of
her upper lip with her tongue, the strange new feeling of the wires
pressing against her gums, tasting a little fresh blood.  (Nate had told me
that a wire that thin would hardly bleed at all; I was surprised but
relieved that he was right.) I crouched down behind her to speak to her
reflection over her shoulder.  "Isn't that great?" I said.  "No one has
ever had a costume like this before."

   "But...it hurt so bad.  Why didn't you ask?" she demanded.

   "Because you would've said no.  You would've been scared, and said no. I
know it hurt a little, but c'mon, it wasn't that much worse than getting
your ears pierced, was it?  It was just the surprise of it, wasn't it?"
Actually it had hurt a lot, and it still did, but Karen was becoming
enchanted with the face in the mirror.  "You wanted a great costume, and
now you have one.  You are going to be the most beautiful, scariest little
girl out there." And that, at least, was true.  The paint, the contact
lenses, and the wires made Karen's face look practically inhuman.  Her sexy
preteen body was concealed by the careful illusions of Nate's airbrush
work, but knowing that she truly was naked made me lust for her even more.
I couldn't wait for the end of this night.

   But right now, I could see that Karen was falling under her own spell.
She was practicing grimaces and growls in the mirror, getting accustomed to
the sting as her new piercings pulled at the tender skin of her face.  I
turned my attention to her younger sister who had retreated to the far end
of the couch.  Children can get used to the most extreme things, and Renee
had gotten used to seeing Karen out-of-control with pain, arousal,
sometimes both at once, but it could still startle her.  I had convinced
her as much as possible that Karen enjoyed pain - and to a certain extent
it was true - but she had a stronger bullshit detector even than most
nine-year-olds, and strong feelings of sisterly love besides.  I crouched
down next to the child and spoke quietly into her ear.  "It's OK, now, see?
Karen loves her new costume, just look." Renee watched skeptically but her
big sister was getting more and more absorbed in practicing scary
expressions in the mirror.  As we looked on she raised a hand to carefully
scrub away her tears.

   Karen noticed her audience after a minute and turned to growl at us,
striking the pose of a leaping cat.  "Rrrrorrwwwwww!" she snarled at Renee,
who reacted with perhaps a bit of relief by shrieking in mock terror and
then running to give the older girl a hug.  I joined them and hugged both
Renee's costumed body and Karen's naked one against my legs.  "OK, are we
ready to go trick-or-treating now?" I asked and both girls shouted "Yes!"

   "Let's go, then," I replied and started pushing both children towards
the door.  Renee ran ahead but Karen hesitated.

   "Wait," she said, turning to where her leotard and shoes were in a heap
on the floor, "I need to get dressed."

   "Don't be silly!" I responded.  "Mister Nate painted you all over.  You
don't want to cover that up - you want everyone to see his beautiful work!"

   Karen looked stunned beneath her makeup.  She'd had too much else on her
mind to realize until that second that her "costume" was intended to show
her off naked as we went from house to house.  She took a step backwards
but my hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.  "No..." she tried futilely to
tug her arm free.  "Please let me get dressed!  I don't want to
trick-or-treat naked.  Please don't make me."

   "Why not?" I asked in a reasonable tone.  "You've been walking around
naked after school all the time, and not painted up either.  You've been
showing that babycunt to me and your sister and it hasn't bothered you, so
what's the problem?"

   She was using her other hand now, trying with no success to peel my
fingers free of her wrist.  Even with the makeup, the contacts, and the
wires piercing the skin above her lip I could see her pleading expression.
"But that was in the house.  I can't...I can't...No, PLEASE."

   I sighed with exaggerated exasperation.  "Yes, you can.  That was
practice.  Just like whoring yourself to Mister Nate was the real thing,
now it's time for that practice to pay off.  Renee!" I called.  "Come back
here and get your sister's shoes for her!" Renee scampered into the studio,
grabbed Karen's coolie slippers off the floor and ran back out to the front
room.  "Nate, you can throw out that leotard, Karen won't need it.  Keep
the panties if you want, I bet they smell just like her babycunt.  Thanks
for everything; I'll have Karen write you a note tomorrow." Nate was now
openly laughing at the painted preteen's futile attempts to escape.  He
waved vaguely in our direction.

   Karen stumbled and almost fell as I jerked her arm, pulling her through
the front room towards the front door of the house.  "Please, NO!" She was
starting to blubber again as she realized the awful truth of her situation.
She was two hours from her home, being dragged out of a stranger's house,
and I had just thrown away her clothing.  "NO, I don't want to be naked,
NOOO!  No, oh no!  HELP!" I dragged her out the front door, closing and
locking it behind me.  And that was it.  Karen was naked outside, just like
she had been weeks ago in the shopping mall parking lot.  Just like then,
despite the fact that there was no one to see her - yet - she went into
full panic mode, struggling with all her pitiful strength against my grip.
Unlike back then, it was twilight.  The light was fading under a clear sky
and it was getting cold.  It was mild for Hallowe'en, but the temperature
was dropping below sixty with a brisk breeze.  Karen shivered as the wind
struck her nude body.  She felt goosebumps rising all over.  Her nipples
stiffened and chilled.  The concrete of the porch felt freezing beneath her
bare feet.

   "Stop it, Karen!" I barked.  "Where are you going to go?  If I turn you
loose, you going to run all the way home?  Huh?" My words had no effect. 
Karen was crying hard, her nose starting to run in the cold air, and still
struggling to pull her thin wrist free.  She tugged and jerked against my
grip.  I twisted her wrist painfully and dragged her off the porch.  She
lost her footing on the uneven flagstones and fell to her knees.  I dragged
her several steps before she was able to get her bare feet under her again,
sobbing and screaming and struggling all the way.

   I was incredibly turned on by Karen's helplessness.  Had we not had
other things to do, had Renee not been looking on, I might've thrown her to
the ground and brutally fucked her right there in the yard.  My cock
throbbed at the very thought, aching to be free of my denim jeans.  It
would've been delightful to feel her slim naked body writhing beneath me,
to bend her legs double and drive the breath out of her with forceful stabs
of my cock into her tight preteen vagina.  But we had a schedule to keep,
and Karen was making us late.

   I jerked her arm up in the air, pulling the child up close to me, and
with my other hand grabbed at the wires piercing the skin below her nose. I
tugged once, sharply.  The effect was dramatic.  Sudden pain bloomed in her
face, drove the breath from her and cut her off in mid-scream.  She went
rigid, gasping, her nearly-flat chest heaving in agony.  I turned loose her
wrist and grabbed her thin shoulders.  I bent down and spoke right into her
shocked face, making my voice deadly quiet and angry.  "That is enough,
young lady.  You begged to come on this trip, you begged for a new costume.
Your sister is waiting to go trick-or-treating and I'm tired of you holding
us up.  Your choice is you either stop crying this instant and come with
us, or I'll just drive off and leave you here.  Mister Nate might let you
back in the house or he might not and you'll have to spend the whole night
outside, naked, in the dark.  Or if he lets you in, he might decide that
you look so pretty with those wires stuck through your face that he'll
stick some more in you here -" I turned loose of one shoulder to yank on a
stiff nipple.  "- or even here!" I dropped my finger to pinch her clit, not
especially gently.

   Karen looked progressively more terrified through my tirade, shrinking
into herself as she realized she was helpless and that I wasn't going to
change my mind.  Her face crumpled as I threatened her with abandonment and
mutilation; she was far too upset to realize how empty the threats were,
that no matter what I had to return her in good shape to her parents on
Sunday evening.  So when I finished by demanding "So what's it going to
be?" and giving her one more rough shake, her resistance collapsed.

   "OK," she sniffled.  She stopped struggling and went nearly limp in my
grasp.  "OK, I'll come, please don't leave me, I'm sorry." Her slim naked
body began shivering convulsively from cold and reaction.

   I gathered her into a hug, pressing her face gently into my sweater-clad
stomach and rubbing my hand briskly across her thin back.  "There, there,
good girl," I said, my manner shifting instantly from anger to tenderness
as soon as she became compliant.  I held her and petted her and stroked her
while she got her breathing under control.  "Renee," I called over my
shoulder, "bring your sister her shoes." I had kept my voice too low for
Renee to hear what I'd been saying - she knew I'd been scolding her big
sister but had no idea just how viciously I'd threatened her.  Karen
obediently sat down, wincing as her butt contacted the cold flagstones, and
fumbled at her shoes.  Her fingers were clumsy with chill and emotion. 
When she had them strapped on, she looked up at me, hugging her arms across
her bare chest.  "Thank you, dear," I said warmly.  Gently this time, I
helped her to her feet.  She still shivered, legs tight together, trying to
shield herself from the fitful chill breeze.  "Oh, you look so beautiful,"
I praised her.  "I'm sorry I had to yell at you, but that is the sexiest
costume I've ever seen.  I just couldn't let you not show it off to
everyone." I gently cupped her face as I spoke, being careful this time not
to tweak her wire whiskers.  The child looked up at me, eyes wide, and
essayed a tentative, trembling smile.  "There you go," I smiled back. 
"See? There's nothing to be upset about."

   "But..." Karen stammered in a small voice, relieved at the change in my
demeanor but afraid of kindling my anger again.  "But...we can't let people
see I'm naked...can we?"

   "Silly, they won't be able to tell.  That's the whole point.  It's
getting dark now, and look - nobody expects a little girl to be walking
around the neighborhood undressed.  They'll see what they expect to see:
you, in an amazing costume.  But you have to help convince them of that by
acting like nothing's wrong, like it's just another Hallowe'en for you. 
Can you do that?" Karen nodded.  "Good girl.  Let me look at you." I
stepped backwards and regarded her critically.  It was true, the illusion
was flawless.  The shading and airbrushed shadows and the painted cuffs at
her wrists and ankles even fooled me.  Now for the piece de resistance. 
"There's only one thing missing: a tail.  Every cat needs a tail, right?"
Karen nodded her head at my rhetorical question.

   I led her over to where my truck was parked.  "Well, I have a tail just
for you, but it's a surprise.  Grab on to the bumper, right here.  No, bend
your back down, not your knees.  Now, just stay there for a second, and no
matter what happens, don't let go.  OK?" Karen was desperate to please me
now and she didn't make a peep, even when I pushed at her ankles with my
foot to spread her legs wider.  She stood shivering in the cold wind, bent
over the truck bumper as I unlocked the vehicle.  I boosted her younger
sister up onto the seat and rummaged in the back for a second.  I returned
to stand behind Karen before she could see the items I held.

   "Now remember, don't let go, OK?" Trembling, the preteen nodded.  I
uncapped the first item, a tube of Astroglide, and squirted a generous
amount onto my fingers.  I reached down between the fifth-grader's spread
cheeks and probed at her anus.  She gasped as I spread the cold gel over
her intimate parts, then groaned as I slowly pushed my index finger into
her rectum.  Her back arched but she obeyed me and didn't turn loose of the
bumper.  I withdrew my finger slowly, then added a second and pushed hard.
Her asshole clenched but yielded and my two fingers slid into her up to the
knuckles.  She squeezed the digits together so tightly it almost hurt me,
but the heat of her was quite pleasant.  I pumped back and forth for
several strokes.  Karen grunted each time I bottomed out, then gasped as I
withdrew and the cold air wafted over her dilated sphincter.

   For the moment I ignored the brown smears on my fingers.  I squeezed
more lube onto the other item I held.  I was quite proud of it: I had
started with an ordinary vibrating butt plug, sized small but not too
small. It was shaped kind of like a baby's pacifier with a flat plate meant
to protrude when it was inserted, a short narrow shaft and a bulbous tip to
hold it in place.  But I had removed the motor and replaced it with a
different unit, one taken from a "weasel ball" cat toy.  It had an offset
shaft like a vibrator motor, but spun much more slowly.  I had extended the
shaft through the back of the butt plug and attached it to a cat's tail
from a kid's costume.  The tail was stiffened with wire so it curled and
stood up on its own.  I smeared the lube all around the butt plug.  I
reached one hand around to press back against Karen's lower abdomen and
then in a single motion shoved the plug up her ass.  She grunted more
loudly and bent forwards as she felt her bottom filled uncomfortably. 
Smiling, I flicked the switch on the vibe.  Karen's grunt became a groan as
she invader began buzzing inside her preteen rectum.  The attached tail
slapped back and forth against my legs until I stepped back. 
"Oh...ohhhh...ohhhh..." Karen groaned louder.  Her skinny legs were
trembling with the strain and her knuckles were white where she held onto
the truck bumper, but she didn't let go.  She didn't dare.

   I bent to clean my fingers on the grass.  "OK, sweetie, you can stand up
now," I told her.  Karen let go but she was unable to straighten up.  She
clamped her arms across her stomach, moaning in discomfort.  She turned
towards me, took two trembling steps then collapsed into a squat.  Her slit
winked open and closed as her abdomen tensed.  I could see her bearing
down, trying to expel the butt plug like a fat turd, but the bulbous end
held it firmly seated inside her.  And the tail, covered in short brownish
red fur, swung back and forth in the air.

   I reached down and took her hands in mine, tugging her gently upright.
She was unable to straighten completely.  I started walking backwards and
Karen took staggering bowlegged steps after me, half bent over.  "That's
it, sweetie.  Straighten up now.  Remember what I said - you have to act
normal.  People don't expect to see a trick-or-treater bent over with a
stomach ache."

   "Ow...ugh...gugh...gnah..." Karen grunted with each step.  "I...can't.
Ow...it...ugh!...hurts." But her face twisted with strain and with each
step her back came up a little straighter.  We walked around and around in
little circles until, finally, she was standing upright.  She still gasped
and grunted softly but with each step she became a bit more accustomed to
the mechanical intrusion.  And as her ass clenched spasmodically, she
realized something else - when she stood just right she could feel the
vibrations shoot straight through her.  I saw her face change in the
failing light as the first faint tickle to her clit broke through the
discomfort, and her awkward gait changed as she began searching for just
the right position to bring that tickling sensation back.  And the tail
swung back and forth in the air.

   "Perfect!" I exclaimed.  "You are ready for trick-or-treating!  Climb
in, and let's go!" Karen walked around to the passenger door, still
waddling slightly, and as I climbed behind the wheel she boosted herself up
and over her younger sister, grunting again.

   Renee - too short to see us over the dash - had been waiting all this
time.  She'd belted herself in, but had developed a serious case of
ants-in-the-pants.  "Can we GO now?" she demanded, obviously having had her
fill of delays.  But in truth, it was just now getting dark enough for the
trick-or-treating to begin.

   "Yes, we can," I said agreeably and the engine coughed to life as I
turned the key.  Karen, though, was having one more problem.  She tried to
sit in her accustomed spot in the middle of the bench, but as she lowered
her naked ass to the seat the butt plug was driven uncomfortably far up her
channel.  She tried to shift around, but there was no good position,
especially with the tail trying to whip itself back and forth.  I chuckled
at her discomfort.  "It's OK, sweetie, just this once you don't have to
belt in.  We're not going far.  Why don't you kneel on the floor and rest
your head in your sister's lap.  Renee, you'll hold her, won't you?" There
was plenty of room on the floorboards although the grit on the rubber mat
ground uncomfortably into Karen's bare knees.  Her cute ass, just beginning
to flare into womanhood, was up in the air with the end of the buttplug
sticking out.  The tail slapped back and forth against the dash.  She
rested her head in Renee's lap and wrapped her arms around the younger
girl's waist.  Her bare painted nipples poked into her sister's trousers.
Renee rested her hands on Karen's head and began to stroke her hair back
into some semblance of order.  I put the truck in gear and slowly drove
off. Karen grunted and groaned as the suspension bounced over the rutted
gravel.  Meanwhile Renee started crooning softly to her.  Karen closed her
eyes and hugged her sister harder.  I turned off the radio to hear - Renee
was singing.  I joined her and together we softly chanted as I drove
carefully to the neighborhood common, "Karen is a who-ore, Karen is a
who-ore, a whory whory who-ore..."