How Innocent? Part 2
(Picture a woman dressed in a witch costume with makeup) Hello, kiddies! It’s me, Creepy Carla, your favorite erotic spooky story teller! I see you’re back for more! My, my, you kiddies have dirty little minds! But then again, so do your parents! Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here… right kiddies! Eee, hee-hee-hee! (cackle). Well, tonight’s titillating tale is a wicked brew of anger, jealousy, and love! (Opening up an old tattered book) A lovely young lady’s trip to the shrink turns out to be a trip through the ‘twilight zone’ in a tale called…
October 31st, 1980
Halloween night! The moon shone full over our small city. The last warm wind of the year blew the leafless branches of the swaying trees. The children had long finished their avaricious ritual of candy-hoarding and had all gone to bed as midnight approached. But it was that fateful night that changed my life forever. A neighborhood over from mine where the upper-middle class dwelt, an unsuspecting nine-year-old blonde lay sleeping in her room. She never heard the intruder climb the stairs or enter her room. She only had a split-second to scream before those murderous hands constricted her throat.
Ten minutes later, the ritzy suburbia flickered with red and blue lights atop the fleet of police cars that had gathered outside the home. But when they wheeled out the small victim on the stretcher, there was nothing the paramedics could do. There was no life left to save. She lost her life that night, and our town lost its bragging rights as the peaceful crime-free staple of Mid-America. It was a permanent bloodstain on the tranquil Heartland.
Fifteen years later, 1995…
I trembled and twitched on the psychologist’s couch. I held that old newspaper clipping tightly as I stared into deep space. For fifteen years, I was haunted by that night. For ten minutes, I couldn’t say a word as Dr. Prim just sat there patiently, waiting for me to speak. Her locks of gray hair were comforting. She was wise and learned. That’s why I came to her. But finally, I forced my trembling lips to speak. “Dr. Prim I… I’m terrified,” I confessed.
She only smiled. “Can you tell me why, Laura Lee?”
“Because I… because I think… long ago I might have killed somebody! I mean… I don’t remember doing it but… what if I did? What if it’s one of those things where you go psycho and don’t remember… y’know… that subconscious stuff!”
At that, Dr. Prim grew quite sincere, if not slightly alarmed. “And why do you believe that you might have committed murder?”
“Well… I’m not sure but… I’m afraid! I’m afraid it might be true!” Once again, I broke down in tears.
And thus Dr. Prim shifted in her chair as she scribbled some notes. “May I see that newspaper story you brought?” she finally asked. And so with a shaky hand, I reached out and handed it to her. She donned her reading glasses that dangled about her neck on a chain and read the headline that I had saved for fifteen years. ‘Murdered: 9 Year Old Slain in her Home.’ She began to move her lips as she read over the story on the now-yellowing newspaper clipping. She carefully read the entire article before facing me. “Hmmm,” she finally said. “This paper is dated fifteen years ago. The victim was nine years old! How old were you at the time? Ten?”
“Yeah, I was ten… being that I’m twenty five now,” I mumbled. “I was in fourth grade.”
“I see,” replied Dr. Prim. “And what makes you think you might have done it?”
“Well… it goes like this… you see. The victim, Katie Richards… was in my class. She was not only the richest girl, but the prettiest as well. Not that I was jealous… much. It was more like… well… I was attracted to her! I mean… I didn’t know what a lesbian was and I didn’t even know what sex was… but I always felt turned on when she was around. Everything about her made me tingly. I didn’t know about masturbation then, but it just seemed natural to rub myself down there in my room after school to my visions of her. I longed to hold her… caress her… kiss her. I discovered orgasm when I thought of her as I touched myself. I wanted to be her best friend. Oh, the way she looked in her nice expensive dresses… always cut short. I knew she enjoyed showing off those delicious bare legs of hers! She always took these nice exotic summer trips and came back in the fall with a shiny bronze suntan! It turned me on and I never understood why. I wanted her!”
By now, Dr. Prim began to breath a little deeper… and heavier! Nevertheless, she only re-crossed her legs and scribbled some more notes. “And how does this fit into your fears that you’re the murderer?” she asked.
“Well… because I tried many times to be her friend. But being the arrogant little snob she was… she was cruel! She said horrible things to me, all implying that she was far too good for me. It’s the way she was. Y’know, that word you shrinks use.. narstis… narso…
“Narcissism?” interjected Dr. Prim.
“Uh yeah… that!” I confirmed. “She always acted like the world and everyone in it was made just for her and to be exploited for her benefit, no matter who else had to suffer.”
“Hmmmm, the ‘spoiled brat’ type,” concluded Dr. Prim. “And because of the anger and hurt she caused you, that was the motivation for murder?”
“Well… I’m not sure. I mean… I don’t think a child deserves to be murdered in their sleep. But I often dreamed to turning that little brat over my knee, lifting that expensive dress and spanking her naked little bottom red!” I confessed. “That would serve her right! For months I dreamt of spanking that luscious little bare bottom of hers! I would start of slow and gentle, lecturing her on her bad attitude. I would gently tease and tickle her little bottom hole, forcing her to squirm on my lap. Then I would slap those bare buns hard with my hands. I’d finger her some more until I could feel her little cunny lube up on my naked thigh, and spank her again and again until she was crying her pretty blue eyes out. She would beg me to stop and promise to be nice, but I’d keep slapping that bare jiggling bottom of hers until red-hot! Then… I’d finger her again, making her squirm and hump my thigh until she burst into a mind-blowing orgasm! And then I’d…”
I paused in my fantasy anecdote, realizing how I had been lost in the momentum. I looked over at Dr. Prim who now was breathing very heavy and had her legs crossed tight. I took a few deep breaths before continuing. “So you see… I never dreamt of anything close to murder… but that morning of November 1st, my mom woke me up in a panic, showing me the morning newspaper she had just picked up from the porch. I remember her shaking me and saying, ‘Oh my God! That girl’s in your class! She’s dead! She’s dead! Oh my God!’ or something like that.
“Then I remember the first thought that hit my mind. It was something like… ‘well… the little snob had it coming.’ But… then I changed my mind. ‘No! She’s just a kid. A bitch! But only a kid! She didn’t deserve it!’ Then, I started crying. I don’t know why. It’s not like she’d ever cry over me!”
“I see,” said Dr. Prim. “Perhaps we’re dealing with a guilt complex.”
“But still… I shouldn’t have thought that! What if I killed her… y’know, my evil half or something? Y’know, split personality?” Once again, I grew frantic as I laid on her couch.
But Dr. Prim remained relaxed and calm. “Hmmm, like Dr. Jekyll and Miss Hyde?” she said as she glanced at the old newspaper again. “Laura Lee, let’s start with the facts. At ten years old, were you strong enough to strangle another girl who’s practically your own age to death? I mean… even if you planned a murder, would you have been physically capable of doing it? And if you had left your home after 11pm to take a mile journey to commit a crime, wouldn’t your mother have caught you? And of course there’s the matter of getting into Katie’s house to commit the crime,” continued Dr. Prim. “Even if you were strong enough, and even if you could leave your home without waking your mother… how in the devil could you get into someone else’s house?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t remember. My mother was at a Halloween party that night at her job. It’s just that the murder remains unsolved to this day and I can’t prove to myself that I didn’t do it. That’s why I came here! I want to try regressive hypnosis so I can remember and know once and for all if I’m the guilty one.”
“I don’t think that would be wise,” replied Dr. Prim. “What you recall under hypnosis might not be factual, but a manifestation of your fears.” With that, Dr. Prim let out a deep sigh. “Laura Lee, I don’t believe you’re the guilty party,” she said. “I think it’s the guilt over your initial reaction along with the childhood pain that’s causing this. I want to see you again next week so we can discuss this further. For now… I want you to go home, take some over-the-counter sleeping pills and get some restful sleep… maybe take a few days off work to recover from your anxiety.”
“I work at home,” I replied. “I do medical transcriptions at home! I never go out except to get food. I don’t trust myself. Since college, I’ve stayed in my little apartment where I can’t hurt anybody… just incase!”
“Please get some rest, Miss,” begged Dr. Prim. “I’ll see you next week so we might continue your treatment for this rather unusual case of… anxiety.”
“Yes Doctor. Thank you, doctor!” And with that, she handed back the newspaper clipping.
That night, I tucked away the clipping once again next to my bed. Following Dr. Prim’s advice, I took the sleeping pills and tucked myself into bed. Before the pills took their effect, I decided to finger myself to a powerful orgasm, all the while dreaming the way I used to of Kelsey. “Oh yes! Oh yes!” she cried out in my mind. “Yessss! Fuck me with your fingers! Use your tongue! Oh, Laura Lee, I love you!” I could only image what nine-year-old Kelsey would be like during orgasm. I heard her scream like schoolgirl. Her legs kicked out as her head thrashed from side to side, her mouth foaming and slobbering. Her body would pulse like a fish out of water. And with my best imagination at work, I came like a volcano, nearly knocking myself out. But in the afterglow, my pulse slowed way down as the pills began to take over. Finally, I faded off into a deep relaxing sleep.
When I awoke, I could sense the morning sun in my room without opening my eyes. I tossed and turned as the sleeping pill’s final effect wore off. I felt somewhat better, having finally discussed my paranoia with a professional after fifteen years of silently bearing the burden. But finally I opened my mucus-coated eyes. My bedroom was a blur, but something did not feel right at all. First of all, my bed felt huge. I wiped my eyes only to realize I was not in my bedroom. It was a little girl’s room! But no… it WAS my room— my room of fifteen years ago! I looked around in disbelief! There I found my old posters on the wall, my old stuffed animals, and even a Barbie-doll! I shook my head to clear it, yet the illusion did not go away. In a panic, I jumped out of bed, only to realize how far down the floor was. One look in the full mirror behind my door confirmed it. ‘Holy shit! I’m ten… all over again!’ I mumbled. I explored my room frantically in a panic, wondering why I was hallucinating. Suddenly, a tidal wave of childhood memories flooded my head… things that I had nearly forgotten now seemed like yesterday—except it wasn’t yesterday… it was today!
And so I looked down at my small ten-year-old body. “This is a nightmare!” I said to myself. “It must be those damned pills! It’s gone from bad to worse!” Naturally, I realized the first thing I needed was to get dressed. I opened up my dresser to look for something to throw on. There were all of my kiddie clothes that came from Wal-mart rather than some big-name department store like the preppy kids. “I can’t believe I used to wear this stuff without a care,” I said. And so I pulled out one shirt after another. “Gross… gross… disgusting… hideous… geez, nothing decent to wear. But then again… I’m not twenty-five anymore… at least until I wake up or stop tripping!” And so I picked out a pink play shirt and slid it on after shedding my stupid nightgown. Funny how I never thought it stupid before. Then, I searched for some of my play shorts. God, they were quite short back then… and to think that all the kids wore them. Finally, I slid on some sport ‘dolphin’ style shorts with the rounded splits on the side with the white stripes. Once I pulled them up, I spied that haunting newspaper clipping, right on my dresser. “Oh my God!” I whispered to myself. I picked it up to take one look at Katie Richards’ photo wrapped in newsprint. And so I gently hid the clipping under my socks in a drawer. After taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped into the hall.
Instantly, I could hear the TV coming from the den. Slowly I walked down the hallway of my humble childhood home for the kitchen. Once I entered, I realized that beyond the bar, my older brother Matt was in the den watching cartoons. Obviously it was Saturday. I looked at the kitchen calendar at the dates Mom had crossed off. Today was October 25th… 1980! Next Friday would be Halloween, the day that Katie Richards would die! For now, she was still alive… unaware that this was her last week to live… unless… unless the murderer, whoever it was, could be stopped!
I began to think things over. But suddenly, my 12 year brother Matt called out, “That you, sis?”
And so, I stepped around the bar to find him laying on the den floor watching the ritualistic Saturday morning cartoons in his soccer uniform. “Yeah,” I mumbled as I found a ‘Pop-Tart’ to drop in the toaster. I waited silently for it to cook, watching the TV from the kitchen. Finally, the tart popped up and I jointed him on the floor in the living room to eat it. But seeing Matt as a kid again ‘freaked me out.’ He looked like a cute little boy in his soccer clothes, yet he was bigger than me! I looked at him once and chuckled. “Nice shorts, Matt!” I said, being that long cargo shorts were not in style.
“What’s wrong with ‘em?” he asked.
“Pretty legs for a boy,” I retorted, but he continued to stare at the TV like a zombie.
“You’re acting weird this morning sis,” he said.
But I said nothing. We stared like zombies at the TV for a while watching the good old violent cartoons. “Why do we keep watching this?” I said. “You know that moronic coyote is not gonna catch that damned roadrunner!”
Suddenly, Matt gasped and covered my mouth. “Don’t let mom hear you!” he warned. “Besides… girls can’t cuss. Swearing’s for boys… damn it!”
“The hell it is!” I replied with a giggle.
“Oh yeah?” said Matt. “Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit! It’s for boys!”
And so I leaned close to his ear so Mom couldn’t hear in case she were awake. “Shit, fuck, ass, cunt, dick, whore-bitch, mother-fucker, asshole, pussy, fuck, ass, cunt! Top that!”
Matt covered his mouth as he burst out laughing. He never got to hear his innocent little sister swear like that! “If Mom ever heard that… she’d bust your ass!” Good old Matt. He was a good big brother most of the time. Since dad had left, I guess he considered it ‘manly’ to protect me and keep me amused. But the one thing I never told him was how I felt about Katie. I just couldn’t admit to him that she made we wet.
But that Saturday while he was at his soccer game, I rode my bike (the pink one with the basket in front) down to Heather’s house to hang out. We rode to the creek and then back. She was cute too, but we were both childish looking, where as Katie looked almost like a miniature teen! I dared to bring her up a few times, but we both took turns hating her! It was kind of fun. I started to stare at her in her own pair of short denim shorts she wore. I began to realize how cute her bare legs were. She had a slight bulge on her inner thighs that looked so squeezable. But I didn’t dare start anything… yet. And I also dared not tell her that I was twenty five and stuck in my ten-year-old body once again.
But then there was school. Come Monday, I trembled and nearly fainted when I had to go back to forth grade all over again! I’ve already been to college for God’s sake and here I am in my old school again full of kids in out-of-date clothing! Do I dare tell them about the future presidents… the end of the Cold War… the future of PC’s and the internet? No… they’d put me away. Being ten again amidst the immature little brats was most humiliating. As I walked down the hall toward my class, there stood our principal Mr. Sterling. He stood tall and straight with his hands behind his back. He knew every last child in school by name. And when I finally spied Katie among the crowded hallway, I could see that she had his favor as well. “Don’t be late to class, Miss Richards,” he said to her with a smile.
“Yes, sir,” she replied with a grin. It seemed as if she had him in her pocket.
But then he made eye contact with me. “Hurry, Laura Lee,” he coaxed. “Two minutes!”
“Yes, Mister Sterling!” I said with a quick nod.
The morning passes slowly, but then came recess! How quickly I had forgotten how my girl classmates would hang upside down from the monkey bars by their knees in their skirts or dresses, never caring that they flopped open to reveal a full flash of panties! And all those boys in short shorts running around never noticing… the teachers not caring… maybe this wasn’t so bad. Well, I surely took advantage of the view! Yet I had forgotten how the supervising teachers would simply walk around as robots, making sure the children played peacefully, as if the panty-shots were as normal as jump-ropes and basket balls. Mr. Sterling would occasionally emerge from the building to walk his rounds at recess for a few minutes. Now, after all these years, I could see why. I had never paid him mind before, but today I watched his movements. He had a watchful eye on the frolicking girls in dresses, and never seemed interested in anything else. So that explains it! He’s a pervert! But then again, he wasn’t looking at anything I wasn’t!
And then there was Katie! There she was, the center of attention. All the rich girls gathered around this playground queen like faithful courtiers of fashion. They chanted various cheers as if they thought themselves worthy of the Dallas Cowboys! And Katie turned plenty of cartwheels, causing her trendy dress to fly up to reveal her pink cotton panties. My God, those curvy inner thighs of hers!!! Oh how they glistened in the noonday sun, for her copper suntan had yet to completely fade. She knew exactly what she was doing… and what she was showing. She enjoyed every bit! Her only regret was that more eyes were not upon her. But even with my eyes, I could tell how soft and silky those bare thighs would feel against my fingertips. I knew if only I could get my lips on that soft flesh, Katie would melt in my hands! I could feel her silky golden hair in my hands without touching it. Her soft lips and blue eyes glowed. What a waste of beauty for such a hideous character beneath! Between her and the continuous flash of panties from the other girls in their short little dresses, I could feel that aching throb between my legs and my tormented cunny drooled in my panties.
Nevertheless, I trembled to think that she would never see adulthood. I wondered what would become of her if she were allowed to live. I grew both hopeful and angry. After all, isn’t it her type that grows into high school whores and Hollywood sluts? Nevertheless, I still realized that what awaited her was not just. She did not deserve to die! But she sure did deserve a good spanking, just like I had described to Dr. Prim. And she’d enjoy it too. I knew she would! Whether that hairless little pussy beneath those expensive panties had reached orgasm yet I did not know. But all things considered, that little body was quite capable of cumming in bucket loads… I knew it.
And so I dared to approach her among all the exclusive kids who surrounded her. In spite of living in an under-developed ‘girly-girl’ body, I still kept my 25 year old mind. “Ewww, go away, Laura Lee!” she said as soon as our eyes met.
But this time, I only grinned confidently, if not wickedly. “You better sleep in your mommy’s bed on Halloween night, little girl!” I said back.
All the girls giggled. “You’re such a dog!” she said snidely.
“Look what she’s wearing!” said one of her snobby friends.
“Check out those skinny legs!” said another.
And so I looked down briefly at my slender legs and pebble-like kneecaps left exposed by my pink corduroy shorts. “These are killer legs!” I said to them all with a wicked smile. “Remember that!”
And so, I walked away, now remembering why I thought the things I did… or will do, upon learning of her murder. How innocent could she be? But after recess, I sat in class taxing my brain. Naturally, I didn’t pay attention. I already knew that crap about long division and subject-verb agreement. And so I thought of the crime to come. If I’m truly innocent, then perhaps I could find out who the guilty party is… and stop the crime before it starts! Maybe that was the purpose of this nightmare from some higher power! Could I truly alter history? And if it WAS me (I mean ‘will be’ me), I could relive that day, and this time NOT do it! Maybe I could tie myself to the bed so I couldn’t do it. No! Too risky. If it is not me, then whoever it is must be stopped. And I can’t stop them if I’m tied to my bed. And so I realized that I would have to sneak out of my home late Halloween night. I would have to show up at Katie’s house near midnight, and once the killer goes to make his move, I’d have to intervene. Maybe that would be the trigger to send me back to my own time.
Yes, I’ll stop the murder from happening, and then I’ll wake up back in my own bed in my own apartment and… and maybe that gorgeous Katie will be right next to me because she falls in love with me for saving her life and converts to lesbianism and we spend the rest of our lives making hot passionate orgasmic love!!! God, I can’t wait to cum all over her pretty little face! I can’t wait to take my first shot down between her legs and work that little pussy over with my tongue as I feel her soft silky inner thighs rubbing against my cheeks. Just one shot is all I need to send that little bitch over the edge! She’d cum for hours!
But then… there’s one small problem. How does a ten-year-old girl (or a twenty-five-year-old woman trapped in a ten-year-old girl’s body) stop an adult-sized murder? Hmmm, that’s the rub! But once I figure that one out, Katie will be mine!
* * * * * * *
Well… stuck in a ten-year-old body and back to fourth-grade again, he-he! Isn’t that a sweet nightmare! Just goes to show that love can be murder!!! Eh-he-he! Well don’t go away, kiddies, because I’m sure you’re ‘dying’ to find out how this ends. We’ll be back soon to finish this torrid tale of juvenile mischief and horrendous horniness! Eee, hee-hee-hee!