                        It could be worse!
                         An Erotic Story

     It was a mistake to even object, Kirsten figured out later.
     "But Mom!  I can't wear this!"  Kirsten held up the one-
piece uniform.  Each almost skintight dress had been custom-
fitted to each ballplayer; molding itself to the girl's body 
almost like it was painted on.  Slight padding emphasized the 
already budding breasts of the barely pre-teen girl; and the 
bottom of the skirt barely fell below the child's hips enough to 
cover up the supplied white panties that were in stark contrast 
to navy-blue, almost black dress.  When she sat down, it was 
impossible to sit without at least a slight occasional "panty 
shot" being noticeable; and the white panties made it certain 
that anybody looking couldn't help but notice the indentation the 
girl's sex made in the white material.  In fact, the three pairs 
of custom-fitted panties that came with each uniform all seem to 
have a crease molded right into the material . . . just to 
emphasize the girl's slit underneath.
     "Why not?" asked her mother reasonably.  "It's much better 
made than those cheap outfits the vacuum-cleaner house supplied 
you girls with last year."
     This was true enough.  The dress, while short, was made of 
far sturdier material; and yet was much softer as well.  Unlike 
the pants and cheap shirt the girls had worn the year before, 
this outfit looked like it would easily last two or even three 
seasons . . . only the girl would outgrow it long before then.  
"You remember all the complaints we had last year about the 
uniform quality . . . well this year the manager found an 
organization willing to supply real quality uniforms for you 
girls; as long as they got to do the design, and put their logo 
on it.  I'd think you girls would be grateful."
     "Some organization . . . Local Child-Molesters 
International," said Kirsten, holding up the outfit.  "Look at 
this Mom!  I can't wear an outfit that says this!"  Kirsten held 
up the short little dress to her front, so the lettering was 
fully visible.  What bugged her most was the implied meaning of 
wearing a uniform promoting such an outfit; followed closely by 
the way the lettering spelled out something she couldn't bring 
herself to say out loud.  Just like some semi-humorous shirts the 
girl had seen other teenagers wear, saying thing like:
           I like
           B.U.M.
         Equipment
     This dress was similarly emblazoned with the name of the 
organization supplying the uniforms; just like all previous 
suppliers had their names on the cheaper uniforms previously 
supplied.  It was Kirsten's misfortune to have picked Number-two 
for her team outfit, before knowing who the sponsor was; thus 
just emphasizing the almost obscene message.
     "Nonsense," replied her mother.  "They don't molest 
children.  Every one of those girls are highly paid professional 
actresses, whose parents have trained them almost since birth.  
Nobody there is forcing girls to have sex; the kids all love 
it . . . you can see it from their faces."


                                1


     "Yeah . . . like you said, they're all professional 
actresses," replied Kirsten, somewhat bitterly.  Couldn't her 
team have found ANYBODY other than the local "Fraternal Union of 
Childporn Kindersluts" to sponsor the girls?
     Once again she blushed at the message the dress seemed to 
give the world, as the recognition, her number, and the initials 
of the sponsor appeared in three lines on both back and front:
           I like
             2
          F.U.C.K.
     "Mom, she objected weakly, one last time.  Can't you see 
what it SAYS?"
     Her mother shrugged.  "So what?" she asked.  "You're 12 
years old now . . . I should think that letting the world know 
you like sex wouldn't matter.  Anyway, we don't have much choice; 
as the courts ruled that the suppliers of the uniforms can decide 
what the outfits look like . . . as long as the uniforms cover 
the genitals properly; which with those white panties, these do."
     At her daughter's raised hand and open mouth in objection, 
the woman continued, "And you certainly don't need to worry about 
the members of F.U.C.K. molesting YOU . . . you're much too old 
for them.  I hear they don't hire ANY girls to perform in their 
erotic films with older men after they reach the age of 9, and 
most are a lot younger; preferring virgins when they start 
out . . . I hope YOU aren't still a virgin.  Are you?"
     Wordlessly the little girl shook her head.  Kirsten was NOT 
going to admit to her mother she had only lost her hated cherry 
barely 8 months earlier . . . and then having to resort to her 
own brother to do the job.  The girl was not THAT bad looking; it 
seeming to be her almost pristine attitude that had kept older 
men and boys from making passes at her before.
     "Besides," her mother said; looking a the sexy figure her 
daughter made in the "kinderslut" outfit that almost mimicked the 
ones she had seen little 10-year-old porno-stars wear before 
losing their clothes in the inevitable orgy you always saw on 
film these days, when little girls were cast opposite adult 
males.  "It could have been worse."
     "Yeah, right," said Kirsten bitterly; wondering just how 
things could be worse than going out to play ball in an outfit 
that wasn't just an invitation to rape, but declared in large 
letters to the entire world that the pubescent and nubile young 
girl wearing the outfit enjoyed sex tremendously . . . even if it 
WAS true; it was as embarrassing as heck!  What could be worse 
than that?

     Kirsten found out at the first game against a team from 
across town.  To her almost disappointed surprise, not one of the 
leering men in the stands more than glanced at her and her cute 
teammates in their sexy little "kinderslut" outfits that suddenly 
seemed almost demure, as the other girls' team walked out on the 
field.






                                2


     Short tops, bare midriff, micro-minis slit down the side, 
all in matching black satin barely covered the opponents.  The 
short little tube-tops were barely large enough to hold the 
numerals identifying each player, along with the sponsor 
identification and the player's number between them, with a # 
symbol that looked more like a dollar sign preceding it.  Player 
#25 on the other team got Kirsten's attention most  The short 
little tube top on the long-haired brunette read:
           I.M.A.
            $.25
          W.H.O.R.E
while long fishnet stockings, and black shoes covered the girls' 
legs.  To complete the outfit, each girl had a conductor's metal 
change-machine belted to the front of the short little skirt.  
Stiletto heels would have been all that was needed to make any of 
the girls look completely at home leaning against a lamppost in 
seedier parts of town.  However, the outfits were GOOD outfits; 
and the shoes were flat with spikes suitable for playing ball.  
The mesh stockings were made of rugged material, and so were the 
black silk pants and stretch tops that jiggled with every move 
the girls made.
     Even the change-machine looked like quality workmanship; 
comfortable to wear, yet sturdy and well-built enough to supply 
change for years before wearing out; not one of the cheap toys 
you sometimes see.
     Kirsten looked around wondering . . . sure enough she saw a 
shy little redhead sitting on the opposite team's bench, wearing 
a tube-top that proclaimed that THIS little hooker could be had 
for only a penny.  Kirsten blushed to think of what the boys at 
school would have said if she had been on THAT team, with her 
choice of #2 in the line-up.  It was bad enough having everybody 
in town know that she liked to fuck . . . the number of boys and 
yes even teachers who had gotten into her pants in the barely two 
weeks since she and the other girls first got the uniforms, just 
because they all knew she couldn't turn down sex from any decent 
guy who wanted to date her . . . even if the "date" was only a 
hot-dog and coke, was getting almost ridiculous.  If this kept 
up, Kirsten figured she would be nursing her first baby in less 
than a year; as her mother had refused to put her on the pill 
until she was 16; saying it was HER problem if she couldn't keep 
her legs closed until then; at the same time almost inviting 
everybody in town to fuck the little girl . . . almost holding 
her daughter's legs open . . . by making the child wear the team 
outfit not only to practice; but to school and church as well.  
Still, to have to give it away to anybody who walked down the 
streets, and for only two cents a pop . . . .
     Yes, her mother was right after all.  It definitely could 
have been worse.









                                3
