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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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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