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Gumshoe: A Sam Ped Story
by Pedro Vila and Frank McCoy (mccoyf@millcomm.com)

***

Sam Ped is a Private Eye hired to look for a young 
runaway girl. Sam is also a pedophile. (M/g, ped)

***

Another day... Another dollar in the hole.

Being a detective ain't cheap, and running your own 
detective business is worse. Just to stay in business I 
need to have an office, a phone, an answering service, 
desk, files, financial records, and more. It costs me 
over twice as much to maintain a cruddy office in a 
seedy part of town, as it does to live in that closet 
jokingly called an apartment in a seedier part of same 
town. Like I said, it ain't cheap.

So, in my business, where jobs are often hard to find, 
and they usually come finding YOU when you're not 
ready, you often have to take work that isn't exactly 
what you think of when envisioning being a gumshoe.

Yeah, gumshoe. I'd laugh; only it's not so funny when 
you're in it up to your neck. And it was going to get 
deeper before I was ready.

I'm a detective with a scarlet letter around my neck. 
I'm a known pedophile. It comes in handy now and then 
when I need to track down wayward kids. I know the 
town, and I know how to get into a young kid's head, 
which helps me think like them when I need to find a 
hiding place for runaways. Usually they're ready to go 
home to Momma or Poppa when I catch up to them.

It also means I know certain people who might cross a 
line when it comes to pedo desires: people who might 
grab a young girl or boy and not really care if the kid 
gets hurt by those desires either. People who make me 
look like a saint.

Yeah, that's me. Saint Sam, the pedo with a heart of 
gold. I'm the scum of the earth until it's your kid 
snatched and you need someone like me to get them back 
safely. "Oh, Sam! Thank you for getting my child back! 
Now get out of my face you sicko!"

It's worse when I don't find them in time.

My last case turned out like that. That was three 
months ago, and business has been slow since. Maybe 
it's unrelated, but my name was all over the papers, 
and like I said, I'm the scum of the earth sometimes.

Well, it hasn't been totally dry. I did get a job 
babysitting. I know what your thinking, 'Sure, Sam. 
Someone's going to let YOU watch their kids?' Yeah, 
they did ask me. As long as I didn't get too close.

Here's the deal. I've helped a few very wealthy clients 
and proved myself honest by the standards of the rich, 
which isn't very much if you know some of them. They in 
turn have less wealthy friends who can't afford full 
time bodyguards but can afford private schools. My job 
is to keep an eye out for possible kidnappings before 
school, during recess, and afterwards on their way 
home.

Not my usual fee; twice that of a normal babysitter, 
with less hours. But the perks are nice. As long as I 
don't get too distracted by watching the wrong kids. 
Which isn't easy nowadays. The weather has been hot and 
kids' clothes have been getting skimpy from emulating 
music videos.

And kids are learning about sex at a much younger age 
these days as well. I could tell you stories...

And there's the problem. I'm in charge of two today. 
The older sister Sandy, for instance: Even a non 
pedophile's wet-dream. Brunette, just developing boobs 
making tiny peeks out from under short little sunsuits 
and blouses. Dressing every day in outfits that 
practically scream, "Kinderslut!" And worst of all, her 
wriggling that cute little ass of hers at dirty-old-men 
like me in a manner that makes your pecker ache just to 
see her. Yet I could tell she's still a virgin. 

It's in the eyes. And I've seen them before and after. 
Like I said, stories.

Add the cute little blonde the kids usually picked up a 
block later, who wore her Momma's sexy clothes with 
complete innocence. I'd get hard as a cold chisel in my 
pants and start to walk funny. But I don't piss in my 
own swimming-pool, and wouldn't touch these cute little 
sexpots even if they offered. But there are times when 
I'm glad they didn't, just the same.

The school knows about me, but not before calling the 
police about a strange man in an overcoat watching the 
schoolyard.

A call to the parents, and a buddy at the force to 
vouch for me set things right, but I was a smart ass 
and I kind of rubbed the cops nose in it. "Sure 
officer, I like to watch little girls. I'd do it anyway 
for free. What's that? Oh, yeah, I'm a pervert. Can you 
imagine a pervert being paid money to ogle little kids? 
You have a camera I could borrow?"

My standing with the police wasn't great to begin with; 
but it's something about being a gumshoe that makes me 
say things like that. And to tell the truth, my 
standing at the station has been better lately, and the 
officer got clued in to my being a strait-shooter. He 
actually laughed before taking off.

Still, the police cruisers started to pass by more 
frequently since then. And nobody offered me a donut.

The last sex I had was with Mrs. Thumb and her four 
daughters. Real sex, with real girls? Almost a year 
earlier. Or at least it seemed that way. The last one 
was thirteen and growing pubic hair; but I wasn't about 
to complain. Trixie had been gone for several years, 
and the pickings got too slim to hold out for someone 
under puberty. I think she was happy; and it's a nice 
break when your whole dick can go in.

So there I am, starting to think things were going okay 
when some kids disappear from the very school I'm 
supposed to be watching. Four girls and a boy; but I 
don't know it. My job was with Sandy, her sister Kate, 
and the friend they have on the way home. Jenny, I 
think is her name. And they know I'm there because they 
keep wiggling those cute asses with the short skirts 
and hotpants at me, with short and firm legs tanned a 
nice summer color and me wondering how white the skin 
is under the cloth.

I expected the parents to tell the girls I was there, 
but I get the sneaking suspicion that the girls were 
told I was a pedophile as well. Just in case. You can't 
be too careful.

So these nymphs get a real kick out of teasing me. Why 
not? I'm safe. And if you've ever raised girls, you'll 
know that at a certain age they like the attention. It 
makes them feel grown up. It makes me do a little 
growing as well.

So the first hint I get that anything is wrong, is when 
two car doors slam, and Mike and Joe from the local PD 
get out and shove me into the black-and-white like a 
piece of meat picked up at the butcher shop. Before I 
know it, I'm being interrogated downtown with Mike and 
the Sergeant playing "Good Cop/Bad Cop" in a summer 
rerun I didn't want to watch again.

Every police station in the world I think has one of 
these "special interrogation rooms" hidden somewhere. 
They ain't large, but they all have a few things in 
common: No windows, thick walls, and a HEAVY door that 
doesn't have windows in it either. Somehow you know 
that if you scream as loud as you can, not a squeak 
will be heard on the other side of that door. Usually 
two or three very uncomfortable chairs and sometimes a 
table. If unfortunate enough to visit one, you're 
generally "invited" to sit in one of the chairs while 
they practice a rather heavy type of hospitality on 
you. Don't let them kid you, even the most up-and-up 
PDs have them; though these days the quality of 
prisoners that get interrogated there varies with the 
society. 

Nowadays, in the US of A, about the only people who get 
treated to the inside-view of them is people who won't 
dare to complain. In our society, that's almost 
restricted to people like me. Who am I to complain? A 
detective who's a pedophile? Don't make me laugh. Sure 
I could get a lawyer and sue... and then never get 
another job as long as I live. I know this... the cops 
know this. I have to like it or lump it. In this case, 
it looked like I was about to get several lumps.

"So where did you stash the kids?" Mike is holding a 
rubber hose and is poised to do some plumbing on me, 
while his partner plays the "good cop" role of being 
"on my side" by begging me to let him stop his partner 
from rearranging the lumps already on my chest, when 
the interrogation room door slams open loudly.

"Drop it," snarls Lieutenant Nickles. Again (like times 
before) the Lieutenant rescues me before the bruises 
really get bad. Of course, that's why they use a rubber 
hose... so they can keep beating me as long as they 
want to, without leaving too many bruises. At first I 
think I'm rescued. Then I look at my so-called 
rescuer's face. Maybe Mike and Joe aren't that bad of a 
choice. At least it'll be over quick and I won't get 
saddled with another freebee for the brass boys.

"Sir! We caught him ready to snatch another kid!" Mike 
tells the Lt. He says it crisply, like he's still in 
the army. I'd have never guessed it from his buzz cut. 
Mike waits for the go-ahead to whale on me some more, 
to beat me into confessing where I had the kids. I 
almost wished I had some kids hidden to confess.

Lt. Nickles turns to me with that smile of his. I can 
see it coming a mile away. "That true, Sam? You were 
going to snatch another kid?" He knows me better than 
that. This was payback for my rubbing the babysitting 
job in their faces.

"Nah, Mikey here was just about to show me how to give 
his buddy here an enema," I said; waving my hand at the 
rubber hose. I didn't even see Mikey swing at me. Next 
thing I saw was a little ant crawling around Nickles' 
shoe. The ant didn't have a headache and I was envious 
of it.

"You know, Sam," Nickles started to tell me from the 
end of some tunnel I was in, "I once sent Sergeant Mike 
here to pick up a perp and he never showed up at the 
station with him. We did find him at county general 
later. Some kids must have roughed the guy up awful 
bad. They had him on a machine for a while."

I heard Joe suddenly say. "No kidding. That was you?"

Mike said, "Shaddup!"

I tried to sit up and shake it off. I wasn't about to 
let them think they had me worried. I was worried. 
Nickles squatted in front of me. "Now you and I are 
going into that other room; and you ain't saying 
anything smart... Right?"

I may be brave, but I'm not that dumb. "Right," I 
sighed. Time to stop being a smartass. If I continued, 
I might find out what a dead smartass felt like.

The Lt.'s office was quite a step up in interior 
decoration from the back room. It even had fluorescent 
lighting, instead of a bare naked bulb.

"Empty your pockets out."

"Why?" Geeze... The lieutenant hauls me out from under 
his two goons, and then wants to frisk me like a... OK, 
like a pervert. Geesh. Well, I had nothing to hide.

Besides my wallet and identification, he already had 
the binoculars I used. For me, about the most expensive 
tool of the trade I carried. I emptied out what was 
left:

Keys (of course) even though my car is in the shop 
until I ransom it, I still have quite a pile of keys. 
Some to places I shouldn't supposedly have keys to. One 
even (if the Lt. looked) to this very office. He 
ignored the keys; though his eyes widened.

No gun. While licensed, I try to avoid packing; 
especially when working school duty. Can't chance 
hitting a kid in a rescue attempt, even by accident.

A set of lockpicks that brought a sharp look from 
Nickels. "You got a license for those?" He knew I did. 
Among other things I was a licensed locksmith; though 
the last time I'd used those skills was to jimmy open 
an apartment door for my landlady when the key broke 
off in the lock. She didn't even pay me.

"It's in the wallet," I growled; pulling out a soggy 
sandwich that I hadn't had a chance to eat for lunch. 
The SOB didn't even bother to look.

A foot-long length of water-pipe was my only weapon; 
and not obviously so.

Three grocery receipts, one (expired) lottery ticket, 
about a dollar and a quarter in small change, and the 
remains of about six packs of gum... two unopened.

"Is THIS why they call you gumshoe?" Nickels was a 
clown. "I suppose you use gum to entice the kiddies."

"It gets boring out there, so I chew gum," I replied; 
trying not to get nasty myself. I suddenly became 
uncomfortably aware of a sticky spot on the bottom of 
my right shoe. It was all I could do to keep from 
busting out laughing at the thought. Not a smart thing 
to do right then. Gumshoe, huh?

After looking over the sorry soggy mess, Nickles waved 
me to pick up the stash before it messed up his nice 
clean desk.

"Now I know you don't have the kids; and like me you'd 
hate to see something bad happen to those kids. I'd 
also hate to see something bad happen to you, if you 
got blamed for something you didn't do."

Yeah, right. And the Tooth Fairy is coming over after 
dinner, right after the Easter Bunny leaves. It's the 
wrong time of year for Santa Claus. "Get to the point," 
I growled.

Nickles gave me a grin that made me think of a 
wolverine. "We need to find those kids, and fast," he 
told me. Something I already knew. If the police didn't 
turn up missing kids in a hurry, his job would be on 
the line. I mentioned before that the kids in that 
school didn't exactly come from poor families? Rich 
people usually had a lot of political clout; and if you 
think Police don't give in to political pressures, 
you're living in a dream world.

"YOU need to find those kids fast," he added; taking 
pleasure from the way my smile at his discomfiture 
turned sour as I got the point. If necessary, I was a 
really handy scapegoat. Shit.

"You won't come out of this smelling like a rose 
either," he promised. "Now I know you didn't take them, 
and probably feel as miserable about their being gone 
as we do... But you're going to get the kids back for 
us all, now aren't you?"

I didn't say a word. It was one of those times when 
it's best to keep your mouth shut. Miserable as he was? 
I was the one sporting bruises and facing a night or 
two of unpaid work in this rotten weather. Nickles had 
once again found a way to get ME to do his dirty work 
for him... to poke into places the police couldn't 
go... and once again I wasn't even going to get paid 
for it. Shit again. I looked back at Nickles. He knew 
he had me, and he knew I knew it too. I sighed and 
nodded.

"Good, boy. You have until tomorrow." Nickles's smile 
would have scared a badger. He got up. Mikey yelled, 
"What the fuck you doing? He's playing you! I'll show 
you he's got the kids." Mike went for me but Nickles 
had an edge to his voice that stopped Mike short of 
killing me.

"You watch your mouth in my precinct." Nickles got an 
inch from Mike's face. "You don't lay a finger on him 
either. Not until I say so." He looked calm as a bomb 
one second before it blew your head off.

Joe watched everything wide eyed and kept his mouth 
shut. Then, on Nickles signal, they walked towards the 
door.

"Hey!" I called out. Mike was seething as he turned to 
me. Nickles looked like he knew what I was going to say 
though. "I don't even know whose kids got taken."

"I already left a folder at your office." Then Nickles 
led them out, leaving the door open on me. Piss... He 
hadn't even the decency to wait until I said I would 
take on the case.

Mike turned before leaving last and pointed at me. 
"This isn't over between me and you, Punk." 

The freight train in my head was finally passing and I 
got up slowly for the walk back to my office. I had a 
strong feeling that Mike would rather see the kids dead 
just so he could work out his baggage on me. At least 
when I enjoy my work, nobody ends up at the hospital.

At the office, I made a call to my client to pick up 
their kids themselves today since I had some important 
pressing matters. She understood. She'd heard about the 
missing kids on the news.

I picked up the folder that Lt. Nickles left on my 
desk. The door was locked when I got there. Nickles had 
a sense of humor. In it was a brief description of five 
girls and a boy with a school photo. Nothing much, just 
height, weight, eye and hair color and birthdates. 

Six kids, five girls and one boy, didn't show up for 
school that morning. Four of the girls were aged 
between ten and eleven with one of them being related 
to the younger girl and boy, Stevie and Heather, both 
twins at seven years old. Their ten year old sister, 
Vicky, had similar pale skin and blondish hair.

Rounding out the group was Rachel Parker, eleven and 
slightly redheaded, with a calculating look to her 
eyes. Liz Duns, ten and brunette, also adventurous 
looking though a little stockier. And Jamie Austin, 
Eleven and half black. Startling in her own right. They 
were all beautiful to look at, even the boy, but I'm 
biased.

I did a read on their faces to look for personality 
traits. All of the older girls looked daring. The 
younger two must have been tag-alongs. I didn't want to 
think about what kind of terrors might be happening to 
them. I stared at the pictures longer than I should 
have. With the weather balmy like it was, I kept 
thinking about what skimpy outfits they might have been 
wearing, possibly the cause of their being abducted.

It was time to save some asses, mine included (mine 
especially... I'm prejudiced that way). I was sweating 
pretty good by then and I wasn't about to lose the 
overcoat. I had some emergency things in it. So I put 
on a thin pair of Bermuda shorts and my lightest short 
sleeve shirt under it. Being summer, the weather was 
hot; so I had to compensate. The shoes looked funny 
with black socks on so I went without the socks.

First stop was an unexpected visit to the local 
representative to the child sex slave trade. I wasn't 
very welcome there with some people; but fortunately I 
knew a few who would give me a break in return for a 
favor later. I didn't like making those kinds of deals 
with those kinds of people; but what good are ethics in 
a morgue?

It turned out I was dealing for nothing. There wasn't 
anything available for the last month. I could have 
been given a bum steer but a couple of other contacts 
confirmed it.

I started to hit every contact and ear on the street. I 
went through my entire supply of cash as a result. 
Nothing. In fact I was getting requests for info on 
kiddy sex. You know someone's desperate when they ask 
ME.

It was getting late in the day and I was getting 
nowhere. I tried all of the possible hangouts for 
runaways, including buildings that I've seen kids play 
hooky in. I traced the route backwards from where they 
would have come to school, only to where they would 
have joined each other. Then I started to check alleys 
off their path for clues, like a shoe or a child's 
purse.

Still nothing.

I was probably a good three or four blocks from their 
route when I sat in an alley, frustrated. The cops 
would have had a wider search pattern than I could make 
on foot. I could hear an alley cat whining in the 
distance.

Something about the sound caused my ears to prick. Call 
me a pervert if you will, but an attraction to little 
girls makes me very sensitive to their images, smells, 
and mostly SOUNDS! It wasn't an alley cat. It was a 
faint little cry for help.

I was on my feet in seconds and homing in on the sound. 
But it didn't seem to be coming from anywhere specific. 
It wasn't coming from any of the buildings and it was 
definitely from ground level.

I knocked over a few trash cans in my haste and then 
there were more screams for help. I got excited with 
thinking about saving them and the screams seemed more 
frantic. I didn't see the hole in the twilight until I 
was suddenly holding onto a broken sewer drain bar 
dangling over... what?

I found out quickly when I lost my grip on the slimy 
metal and dropped at least ten feet onto the murky, 
muddy water. It was thick with mud which luckily broke 
my fall. Looking up, I could see a large jagged hole 
above me and then I was grabbed on all sides by six 
very scared and muddy children.

"Save me!" was the general consensus among them. I went 
over backwards into the mud and I lost one of my shoes 
somewhere in it. I ended up under a pile of slimy and 
shivering bodies, clinging to me for comfort. I started 
to sink into it and I fought to get myself upright.

"Hold it!" I yelled, which stopped them suddenly. 
"Which one of you is, um..." I struggled to remember a 
name. "Rachel?"

"Me!" said a muddy looking thing in the dark light. It 
was the same kids that had turned up missing. After a 
few more questions I established that they were all 
together and had all fallen into the hole chasing a 
kitten.

It was now dark up on top and I fumbled through the mud 
to find a flashlight. The sudden brightness caused a 
few of them to gasp and I examined each one for any 
injuries.

It was worse than I thought. Oh, they were fine, but 
each one of them could hardly have been less dressed if 
they'd been wearing bathing suits. Mostly tight shorts, 
tank tops, and shoeless socks. Beautiful flat or baby 
fat bellies and legs streaked with gobs of mud and wet 
slime. Matted hair, and red crying eyes topped the lot. 
I'd had dreams that went just the same way.

But this wasn't a dream and these kids needed help. I 
got up and got Jamie, who was the tallest, to stand on 
my shoulders to reach the broken bars up above. We were 
a good three feet short and I was already having a hard 
time standing in the shifting mud. I wouldn't have been 
able to get another one on top to finish the attempt.

By then, the kids had calmed down. I was in charge and 
doing something which reassured them all, though little 
Heather was still crying. We were going to have to find 
another way out. The alley above was too remote and it 
was a fluke that I'd even found them at all. A 
gumshoe's luck isn't always bad.

There was a three foot round cement pipe that led from 
the muddy chamber and I figured it had to lead to a 
manhole, or at least another grate in a more public 
spot. I rounded the troop up for the crawl when there 
was some giggling amongst some of them.

My over coat had opened and there was a tear down the 
front leg of my shorts. Probably made during my drop 
through the broken pavement or grate. I checked myself 
for any injury and found a mild gash farther to my 
side. Nothing serious, but I had to keep my coat closed 
to prevent my dick from peeking out. I was a private 
dick who was trying to keep his dick private.

I decided to go first through the pipe and made sure 
that the youngest kids were right on my tail. It was 
Rachel who seemed the most composed. I figured her for 
a future bossy redhead and appointed her rear guardian. 
She was in charge of keeping everyone together behind 
me.

The floor of the pipe was slimy but not very muddy and 
my size made the crawl hardest on me. It wasn't easy 
holding the flashlight while crawling either. The pipe 
ended into another chamber without any exit on top, but 
three more pipes leading from it. Two the same size as 
the one we just came out of, and one twice as large.

That had to be the out pipe. Besides, it was easier for 
me to get through that one. We got most of the way down 
it when the flashlight started to die out on me. This 
caused some of the girls to panic, but I stayed calm 
and told them we were going to be okay. I knew we would 
be, after all, we were in a city storm drain. There 
were manholes all over town for it. We just had to find 
one.

I had a dim red glimmer from the flashlight to scan the 
next chamber before it went dark. I couldn't tell if 
there was a manhole above us though and then it was 
pitch black. I hushed the kids and we listened.

No cars. Silence.

I then started to feel around for steps or a ladder, 
but couldn't find anything. In the dark, the kids all 
started to cling to me hard and I had a hard time 
moving about. It was little Stevie who saw a faint 
light down another tunnel.

We didn't have much of a choice anymore and I was 
willing to try anything. We went down it to the end. It 
was a good deal of distance compared to how far we'd 
come before and my heart dropped when we found that the 
end was barred.

The light was coming from the other side of the bars 
where we could see the tiny trickle that the current 
rain had made of the dry gulch they called a river 
around here. In a big downpour the thing would fill 
almost half way up to where we were... and the drain we 
were in would be half full of water too. I decided to 
keep that image firmly out of my mind; as there wasn't 
a damned thing I could do about it. 

The city had put a fence along the river (You could see 
it across the wash from us.) to keep kids from falling 
in... and then put grates on all the storm-sewer exits 
to keep those kids that DID get in from wandering up 
into the sewer system and getting lost. Only the grate 
and fence did as good a job of keeping kids IN the 
system as it did of keeping them out. We started to 
yell for help.

It was a good half hour of yelling before we gave up. 
By then, the kids were getting not only scared, but 
very cold. It may have been hot up above, but it was 
damp and chilly under the ground. It was also starting 
to get darker and colder. The kids all started to 
huddle close to me; though I kept them outside my 
overcoat. I had to get their minds off things, so I 
started to ask questions.

"What color was the kitten?"

"Gray."

"What's your favorite subject in school?"

"Art." "Recess." "Lunch." "Math."

"Who's your favorite teacher?"

"Mrs. Hatcher."

"Hey! I know you!"

I think it was Rachel who said that, but I couldn't be 
sure in the dim light, and they were all pretty muddy 
still. "You're that pedo guy who's watching us from the 
corner." Yeah. It was Rachel all right. Redheads!

"I'm a detective, Rachel. I'm paid to watch whoever I'm 
told to."

"I'll bet you wanted to get us down here," she said; 
not letting up.

"Yeah. That's it. I sent that kitten just to lead you 
here, and then I psychically made you fall into that 
big obvious hole," I shot back. I was a little edgy 
since this was something I had dreamed about in my 
lonely hours. "Gimme' a break! I'm trying to get you 
all out of here."

"Yeah, Rachel. Can it!" That was Jamie.

"Mister?" said a little voice close to me. "What do we 
do now?" Heather was very clingy; and I felt sorry for 
her.

"Are you up for more crawling?" I asked gently. I 
wasn't sure if any of the smaller drains would go 
anywhere better.

It was a chorus of "No"s that settled the matter.

"Then we sit tight until help arrives. We'll be okay 
down here until it gets light out, then we can find a 
hole to crawl up from. Okay?" I asked.

"But it's COLD down here," objected one of the voices. 
I assumed it was the boy's. It was. Cold and soggy, and 
a wind coming in through the grate from the river. 
Though full summer outside, underground it must have 
been at least 20 degrees cooler. Add skimpy wet 
clothes, and it got downright chilly.

"We'll have to move up a little farther into the 
drains," I decided. "I remember a wide spot a little 
further up. C'mon, we've got to get there before this 
light fades." There was some grumbling, but nobody 
spoke up out loud. The breeze WAS cold.

So we took the first main pipe we found, back to a 
little wide-spot where three pipes joined, and there we 
were, huddled in the half foot of slime and mud that 
ran through the whole drain. Rachel and a couple of the 
older girls moved over to the other side of the small 
dead-end chamber a while; whispering to each other. The 
rest of the kids held tight to me and chattered their 
teeth. At least we didn't have the breeze any more. 
Also, storm sewers don't smell nearly as bad as drain 
sewers; and usually didn't have rats. I decided not to 
mention rats to the kids.

After a while, the rest came over to join us, probably 
out of cold, and I think it was Rachel who slipped open 
my coat to get warmer under it. The other kids soon 
followed. I felt like a heel hogging the coat and 
chided myself for being selfish.

"I'm hungry," whined Vicky.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait until we get out," I 
tried to dampen such thoughts with common sense.

"But I'm hungry NOW!" she told me. I never could resist 
a kid.

"Me too," whimpered the boy.

I suddenly remembered one very soggy sandwich, which I 
rescued from a deep pocket. Even with a plastic 
wrapping, it was definitely the worse for wear after my 
trip down the drain. Still, it didn't last more than a 
second or two among the kids; and I didn't even get a 
bite myself.

"I'm still hungry."

Damn. No more food. No candy even, like a pervert is 
supposed to have to entice young girls. My mind 
suddenly brightened. "Gumshoe!" Sure enough, buried in 
the depths of various pockets, I managed to extract two 
packets of gum, and a couple extra sticks. Enough for 
two sticks apiece. I rationed out one stick per-kid; 
and saved the rest for later.

Rachel was the only one that got it; and it was like a 
light dawning. "You're a private detective, right?" she 
asked.

In the dark, she must have felt rather than seen my 
nod.

A snort of laughter confirmed it. "Gumshoe, huh?"

Again a nod from me. I was trying to see which way was 
up, down, or preferably out.

None of the other kids got it; but for the next ten 
minutes, every so often a giggle or snort of, 
"Pervert," would come from the direction I figured 
Rachel was in.

I soon forgot my own empty stomach, when soft and slimy 
legs started to slide over various parts of my anatomy. 
I reached down and tucked myself between my legs to 
prevent any misunderstandings and thought about 
baseball scores.

The kids were tired and shivering and I could feel 
every goosebump on their soft yet firm little bodies. 
It wasn't too bad when they held still for a while, but 
then they all started to shift around now and again 
trying to find some warmth and comfort.

That was when it was hardest. Literally!

I couldn't tell which one did it, but she - and don't 
ask me how I knew it was a she; but it was definitely a 
she - slid herself over me and caused the hole in my 
shorts to move right over my cock and it sprung up and 
against a slimy, wet, and thinly pantied bottom.

I held my breath and started to sweat. Surely she must 
have felt that, and I was going to be in big trouble if 
she mentioned it to the police.

But she didn't; and I relaxed. I debated to myself if 
it was worth the risk to reach down and tuck myself 
under again, but I didn't think I could without really 
pushing my hand against the most wet, slimy, and 
delicious parts of her body. It was going to be a long 
night.

Later on I passed around the last of the gum. It was 
starting to get sticky by then. This drew another 
snicker of, "Gumshoe," from Rachel. Thankfully she 
didn't explain it to the other kids.

After a while, the kids all shifted again, and I ended 
up with another young girl straddling me. I tried to 
pull my shorts sideways while the shifting was going on 
but only lost my grip on my raging hard on from my 
legs. My cock went up a short pant leg.

I was too worried to know who the poor girl was but I 
was relatively sure that she was half asleep. Still, 
the discomfort must have triggered something because 
she kept moving herself around trying to get away from 
what ever was riding up into her shorts. I was hoping 
that she just thought it was someone's foot. But I was 
pretty sure I was bigger then Heather's calf by then.

The chattering started to subside and I could hear 
yawning now and then. The only problem for me was that 
everybody stayed slimy and damp under my coat. 

I was drifting off a little, though still hard as hell, 
when everybody started to shift around again. I closed 
my eyes tight; and despite my hopes, my cock slapped up 
to my belly. There wasn't a prayer of tucking it down 
now.

This time, the shifting around took longer. Whoever was 
brushing against my cock tried to get comfortable 
despite it and wasn't successful. Then somebody else 
tried, and somebody after that. I could feel little 
feet and legs touching against my legs everywhere and 
one knee even managed to make its way up under my 
shirt. Hands were holding me around my chest and mid 
section. Many little hands, needing me.

I was completely covered with slippery young flesh. 

I was picturing, in my tired state, what the wet little 
bodies with goosebumps and muddy legs looked like, 
writhing all over me as the kids actually shifted 
positions on top of my bare cock. I was started to 
imagine what parts of bodies were brushing against the 
cock as things bumpy and smooth slid across it in a 
parade of tortured pleasure that I had no right in 
enjoying. I had no idea whose belly my cock slid over 
when I suddenly ejaculated.

I groaned and felt like a dirt-bag. After a few minutes 
a small sleepy voice asked, "Are you all right?" I 
think it was Vicky.

"Sure, Kid," I said bravely. "Go back to sleep. It'll 
be light soon and then we can go home." It wasn't Vicky 
straddling me; but I'd cum during a transition, so 
maybe it could have been. I hoped I didn't leave any 
semen stains on somebody's clothes.

With my sudden release, and a reassurance to myself 
that nobody would examine muddy clothes that closely, I 
dozed off.

"Hey, Mister!" I woke quickly; expecting 
recriminations. "It's light outside!"

I sat bolt upright; which woke everybody. There were 
moans and groans. A storm drain is no place to sleep; 
and everybody ached. In the dim light from about six 
tiny holes from above, as my eyes adjusted, I saw many 
barely clad girls pop from my overcoat like clowns from 
a circus car. I couldn't believe what I was seeing; as 
wet dream after wet dream emerged to stand in front of 
me, all looking towards the light coming from above.

I was about to get hard again. That was a bad idea. It 
had taken everything I had not to even touch any of 
those children, much less manipulate them into 
strategic spots for my unwanted desires. I had endured 
temptations no man should ever have to suffer; and 
except for one unplanned emission, felt like I had 
passed through it the best I could have.

As it was, I was lucky enough to have a distraction. 
The ladder started at my shoulder level. I don't know 
how I could have missed it the previous night. Straight 
up, almost directly overhead, was a faint light 
trickling in through a manhole cover. We'd spent the 
whole night sitting not ten feet from an exit... 
straight up.

I started up it first to push it up and to the side and 
saw police cars and a fire truck parked with a small 
crowd down the street. They were gathered around a 
manhole in the direction of the alley where we had fell 
in yesterday. I must have taken a different turn during 
the night; and they were still tracking us toward the 
river, manhole by manhole.

"Hey!" I called. Heads turned my way. "A little help 
right here!"

As professionals ran towards me, I climbed back down 
and started to help the lost children up the ladder and 
back out into the mortal world. There was laughing, and 
a little crying from the younger ones, as hope sprung 
back into their little lives.

I was the last to crawl out of the hole but I stopped 
when I saw that it was Lt. Nickles who had my hand. I 
frowned at him as I got to my feet.

"So, the pervert spent the night with these kids," he 
said, grinning. I hated every tooth in his donut 
swilling mouth.

"Can it, Nickles. It's been a long night." I replied. A 
camera crew was making its way to the found children 
and Nickles led me in the other direction. "So, anybody 
miss me?" I asked.

"You look like shit. Stay away from the news crews."

Thanks, Uncle Nickles. "Don't I get a reward even?"

Lt. Nickles didn't even smile. "Stay out of the light. 
Don't make your kind look good, and you can keep your 
job."

Vicky spotted us and started to walk in our direction. 
An officer blocked her path. I took the hint and kept 
my job.

Coming in the door to my seedy apartment, I caught a 
view of myself in the mirror. No wonder Nickles didn't 
want the press to get a shot of me. I looked like the 
quintessential pervert with trench coat. Geesh. He was 
more protecting his ass than mine though. I shuddered 
when I thought of the money getting that coat cleaned 
was going to cost me. Almost automatically I emptied 
out the pockets.

Mostly litter. The receipts were mush. The pipe was 
long gone. In its place was another lump... a soggy 
furry lump.

Carefully I extracted this new lump.

"Mew?" Two red eyes peered out from soggy black fur. 
Gray indeed... Not. All cats look gray in the dark. It 
seemed I had a new partner.

It took a quick trip to the store after showering to 
lay in some milk and cat food... and (of course) a new 
supply of gum. It was that, that decided me.

"Well, Gumshoe," I told the now-purring kitten that had 
made itself at home in my digs, "a detective's life may 
not pay very well, and it has it's ups and downs, but 
it certainly isn't boring."

Gumshoe didn't bother to answer; just curling into a 
small buzzing ball.

After I cleaned myself up, copying the kitten, it was 
time for a long nap. When I awoke, I had a phone 
message from one of the local TV stations. I didn't 
return their call. The paper made no mention besides 
the passing reference of a private dick who helped the 
children until the police were able to be on the scene. 
The police looked like the saviors. 

I looked like wallpaper. Which I suppose was best. If 
you're a pedophile detective, it doesn't pay to get 
your name nosed around until somebody really needs you. 
Then they come looking for you. Even Nickles had sent 
me a few clients. He owed me for this job... and I 
supposed he would pay it off in his own fashion. I just 
didn't expect him to be grateful.

A call to the client I had been working for before 
grudgingly allowed me to stay on the payroll, provided 
I didn't talk to any media. Nickles was thorough; and 
had kept his part of the bargain. He might hate my guts 
as much as I hated his; but we both respected each 
other to keep his word.

That afternoon I was back on the corner in my car with 
binoculars, lying low. It took the girls no time to 
spot me despite my duck-blind; and I was treated to 
flashes of panties whenever they thought they could get 
away with it. Not just my girls, but Rachel's group as 
well. I took it as the teasing it was; and chalked it 
up to a modest tip for my services.

After school, as I was about to follow my group home 
safely, Rachel and Jamie approached me and I rolled 
down the window.

"You girls staying away from big holes?" I said.

Rachel took the lead, naturally. "You know, we were 
doing it on purpose." I didn't answer. I didn't want to 
hear what I suddenly knew they were going to say. "We 
were teasing you and you were too chicken-shit to do 
anything about it." My day was going down in flames.

"Yeah." Piped up Jamie. "I thought you liked girls, but 
we rubbed you all over and you were too scared to 
move."

"Yeah, Fag!" hammered Rachel. Last nail in my casket, 
down I go. I felt like sewer mud. Here I was trying to 
do the stand-up thing, and these girls make me out the 
fool. "See ya', Fag!" Rachel called back as they 
skipped away, their job done.

I started to wonder why I liked kids.

I followed Sandy, Kate, and their friend Jenny home 
safely; and wasn't even rewarded a flash for my 
trouble. That was okay. I didn't deserve it. Not when 
Rachel and Friends made a royal chump out of me.

I returned to the office where I had left Gumshoe 
earlier in the day with a litter box and water... and 
found no calls waiting. Figures. So I sat and went over 
the night in the storm drain in my mind. I knew it had 
been too good to be true. I remembered climaxing 
sometime that night; and then I didn't feel quite so 
badly. At least I got something out of it. A hungry, 
"Mew," reminded me I got more out of it than that.

After feeding Gumshoe, I settled down to read a (What 
else?) Detective magazine, while I commiserated on 
vagaries of the female sex. Especially the younger part 
of that population. A buzzing fur mat is more help when 
you feel miserable than I had expected.

A knock at my office door brought me out of my day 
dream. "Come in," I said to it; dumping an indignant 
kitten that stalked off to hide in the corner. The door 
opened to reveal Liz Duns standing there with an unsure 
look to her face. "If you came to rub my nose in it, I 
gave at the office." Funny. I WAS at the office.

"Mister Ped?" she asked; and worked up enough courage 
to take a step inside. I took a breath and waited for 
it. "Mister? I heard what Rachel and Jamie were saying 
about you." I closed my eyes. Some nightmares just 
didn't know when to end. "Well, I think they're wrong." 
My eyes opened. "I know you wanted to touch us back; 
but you didn't." My nightmare was taking a turn for the 
better. "What we did was wrong, and you didn't deserve 
it."

I looked Liz in the eyes. She meant it. "Look kid, I 
know how it goes. You didn't have to come and say your 
sorry." I was being the Big Man. "But for what it's 
worth, thanks anyway." My smile was genuine. Liz smiled 
back. I looked her over good this time. Square face, a 
little stocky, but she'll grow taller still and it'll 
even out. Her legs looked like they could have done the 
high beam at the Olympics. She had the flat stomach and 
I wondered if it was there that I came.

"Um...?" She hesitated. I nodded the okay. "Would you 
like to come to my house and have dinner with my 
folks?"

That's a kid for you. And there was a disaster in the 
making. "Oh, Liz. That would make more trouble for you 
then you can know. Thanks anyway."

"No, really. I told them everything about what we did 
to you and how you were. They really want to meet you." 
She stepped even closer. "They were impressed." One 
more step and then she was leaning over my desk to me. 
"I was impressed."

My face must have gone red; because my heart was 
beating fast enough to worry a doctor. Liz was smiling 
in a way that told me she wasn't a virgin.

And I had used up all of my inner strength in the drain 
pipe. As Kermit the frog said about being green, "It 
ain't easy being a pervert."

I never even noticed the kitten making shredded wool 
out of the stockings I had left on the floor the day 
before.

END

Frank McCoy can be reached at: mccoyf@millcomm.com
Pedro Vila can be reached at: pedrovila@mailandnews.com 
Until 02/28/02 After that, his email addy will change.

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 65