Please note: All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Please keep in mind the difference between fantasy and reality.

Written by Janus
Copyright 2010

Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four


"All right, Thomas," Jenna said, "Can you take off your underwear and we'll continue with the examination?" As she spoke, the nine year old girl tried her best to modulate her voice, to keep out the nervous quivering that began deep in her throat. With shaking hands, Jenna pulled down Thomas' white underpants revealing his pink thing, a tiny and fascinating nub of flesh between the seven year old boy's legs.

That was the first time. They had both been so nervous that it was only a matter of seconds before Thomas pulled up his underwear and jeans again. The second time was longer by a full, glorious minute during which Jenna tentatively prodded Thomas with a Lego piece. She then pulled off her jeans and underwear to give Thomas a turn to explore. By the fifth time, the pretense of the "doctor" game was altogether forgotten. Thomas obediently laid in the tent, his pants around his ankles and his legs spread, as Jenna explored his mysterious anatomy with her bare hand. The curious girl took great delight in feeling his tiny penis, amused by the way it jutted so proudly from his crotch. She loved testing his spongy resiliency beneath her fingers and nudging the wrinkly texture of his funny little sack.

Then it would be her turn. Being older, Jenna did her best to educate the younger boy about girls' bodies. She happily showed him her pudenda in all its hairless, pink glory and let him poke and prod, even teaching him to insert a finger in her child-sized vagina. Being only seven, Thomas thought it was hilarious that his finger could go inside her like that.

The inquisitive young girl had already deeply explored her own body. She had been masturbating for as long as she could remember. Her questions about male anatomy however had been deflected for years by her embarrassed parents. Having no sibling to turn to, Jenna often felt like she was on an island in these matters. When Thomas and his family moved in next door a year ago, Jenna took an instant liking to the young boy. It was only natural for her to share her knowledge with him.

Whenever they were together, it was Jenna usually directing the action, even if Thomas was just over for lunch. She would decide when and what to eat, what Wii games to play, or how they could best build a toy boat. Thomas, always agreeable, would simply follow along. When suggested playing doctor that first time, she was fairly certain that Thomas would not object.

Three weeks later, the fact that nine year old Jenna had been the instigator became a major point of contention when the tent activities were leaked to the respective parents. What should have been viewed as "children being children" suddenly blew out of proportion. There was much shouting and cursing between the parents. The once neighborly friendship between the two households dissolved into frosty relations once Jenna was accused of molesting Thomas.

The authorities became involved. Lawyers were summoned. Ultimately, the judge sided with Thomas' parents. The fact that Jenna was two years older and had directed the play was enough to convince the judge to find the young girl guilty of third degree sexual assault. Jenna was forbidden to have contact with Thomas and a fifty yard restraining order was placed.

As bad as things were, they quickly got worse. Under federal law, all sexual offenders were required to have their name added to a national registry of sex offenders. State law also dictated that all offenders within the national registry were required to have their profiles posted to a local public database in the name of neighborhood safety. And so Jenna's full name, address, and photo were added alongside a motley collection of serial rapists and child abusers.

This happened despite the best efforts of Jenna's parents who themselves were upstanding citizens in their upper middle class suburb. People feared for the safety of their children and the judge had indicated her was in no position to close this loophole for minority aged offenders. The local media, thankfully, were willing to let this story go under the radar. After two anxious weeks, Jenna's parents breathed a sigh of relief when none of the local TV stations or newspapers picked up on the sordid tale.

Things relaxed further when Thomas and his parents moved away, a "For Sale" sign unceremoniously erected in the front yard. For Jenna's parents, this difficult and embarrassing episode was drawing to a close. For Jenna, it was just beginning.

Her friends stopped returning her phone calls and text messages. That was Jenna's first clue that something was wrong. Her best friend Janice, who lived a few blocks away, began walking in the opposite direction when she saw Jenna. A terse note was received in the mail stating that Linda, another neighborhood friend, was canceling her annual end-of-summer backyard pool party. On the day of the party, however, the driveway to Linda's house was full of cars and children's raucous laughter wafted from the backyard. Jenna had evidently been uninvited.

When school started, things got worse. Her former friends pointedly avoided her. Snickers were heard behind her back at recess. Even the teachers acted differently around her, hesitating to make eye contact and visibly nervous. Jenna found this particularly troublesome. Weren't adults supposed to know better and treat everyone equally?

One day, Jenna was dejectedly returning home after a particularly long day and an even more miserable bus ride. Thomas's old house was still on the market and each time she walked by the empty house, Jenna felt a brief twinge of guilt. The neighbor on the other side, Mr. Brecht, was tuning up his bicycle in his garage. He saw her walk by and waved to her. Jenna half-heartedly waved back.

"Hey," Mr. Brecht called, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. "Why so glum?"

Jenna just shrugged and tried to smile. "I'm not," she said unconvincingly. Mr. Brecht put down his tools and walked down his driveway toward her. Her parents had him over for dinner from time to time since he was a young bachelor who lived alone. They knew each other fairly well.

"You can't fool me," he told her. "Is something on your mind?"

"It's nothing," Jenna replied.

"Well, you sure look like you need cheering up," he said. "Hey, did your mom mention I'll be over for lunch on Sunday?" Jenna shook her head. "I am," he continued. "I told her I would bring dessert. Anything special you want me to bring?"

Jenna thought for a moment. "Baked Alaska?" she ventured.

Mr. Brecht laughed and whistled. "Boy, you sure know how to take advantage and choose a difficult dessert! I was hoping you would say chocolate chip cookies. But okay, I think I can figure out Baked Alaska."

Jenna brightened a bit, a real smile tugging at her lips. It suddenly occurred to her that Mr. Brecht was one person who had not started treating her differently. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"Maybe you should wait until you taste the Baked Alaska," he said. "It might end up more like, I don't know, Baked Utah." They both laughed. "By the way, that apple tree in my backyard is filling out really well. Are you going to come help me pick apples again this year?"

Jenna nodded eagerly. She loved picking apples.

"All right then," Mr. Brecht nodded. "I'll try to keep the squirrels away until then."

Jenna thanked him again before saying goodbye. The encounter lifted her spirits, as it was the first social activity she had in weeks if you didn't count her parents. Her sunny mood was further brightened when she discovered a letter for her in the mailbox. Jenna quickly let herself in the house. Her parents were still a few hours from arriving home.

Excitedly, Jenna turned the letter over in her hands. There was no return address but her name was clearly written in blocky letters on the envelope. Since she was only nine years old, it was rare for her to receive any mail at all except during the holiday season or the weeks leading up to her birthday. Carefully opening the envelope she extracted the letter and began to read.

Her good mood instantly evaporated as as she read the letter, its uniform cursive font attempting to hide the fact that it was a form letter. It was pure hate. All invective. The letter told Jenna she would burn in hell. It said her soul was forfeit with no hope for redemption. It was signed by a Christian church group from California. With trembling hands, Jenna crumpled up the paper and deposited it in the garbage basket.

The next day, however, more letters were waiting in the mailbox for her. Some were photocopied form letters. Others were handwritten, scrawled in angry handwriting. Some letters used every dirty word she knew and some didn't. They called her terrible names. For the next several nights, the nine year old woke up at night filled with anxiety, her mind abuzz with the diatribes she had read that day.

She began to believe the letters. Jenna's remorse and shame over what she had done began to gnaw at her. She had weathered the loss of her friends and her painful isolation but the letters were too much. Bravely, Jenna did her best to soldier on. She seemed fine to her parents who were too engrossed in their jobs to notice Jenna's listlessness at the dinner table.

Even the little girl's sexual appetite began to wane. Previously, she had masturbated quite frequently, usually several times a week. When she attempted to pleasure herself now though her body seemed reluctant, refusing to respond. It was like rooting through her toy box and seeing old playthings from when she was younger, things that no longer held her interest.

But then a different kind of letter began arriving.

A large manila envelope bearing her name arrived one afternoon. There was nothing particular about it. Her name and address were written neatly on the front but there was no return address. "Another hate letter," Jenna thought despondently. She hand shown none of the letters to her parents, believing that perhaps she deserved such punishment. Opening the envelope, Jenna steeled herself as her fingers felt a heavy, glossy paper. She stared when she saw what it was.

It was an 8x10 photograph. Of a man. He was naked, his privates lewdly on display. The photo was cropped at his neck, keeping his face invisible. Jenna's heart raced, her eyes bugging out as she stared at the photograph of the man's hairy chest, slight potbelly, and... Having never seen a naked man before, the nine year old was speechless.

The front door opened. Her mom entered, just arriving home from work. "Hi sweetie!' she said, setting down her briefcase and flinging her blazer onto the couch. "Did you get some mail today?"

Jenna hastily shoved the photo back into the envelope. "It's nothing," she said, "Just some junk mail is all..." But her mom's attention had already wandered and she was no longer listening as she burrowed in the hall closet.

"That's nice, sweetheart," her mom said, rummaging about the cluttered closet. "Have you seen my slippers? I can't find them anywhere. Well. Any idea what you'd like for dinner tonight?" Jenna crept off without responding. Her mother did not notice.

Unlike the other letters she received, Jenna kept this one. A good hiding place, she decided, would be under her mattress. She couldn't help sneaking peeks at it, carefully removing the photo from its hiding place before dinner, then again after she finished her homework, and finally once last time before she brushed her teeth. Once it was bedtime and her room was darkened, Jenna felt a twinge of something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Quietly, she got out of bed and retrieved the photo one last time. She could just barely see the man's image in the dim street light that trickled through her window. Creeping back into bed, Jenna slipped a stealthy hand under her nightgown...

She received two more pieces of hate mail the next day. She read them and then threw the away as usual, choosing not to dwell on it. Instead, Jenna started on her homework early, finishing before dinnertime. Which gave her just enough time to pull the photo out from under her mattress and relax. The sight of it made her tingly and Jenna felt naughty for owning such an illicit photo. Nevertheless, she couldn't resist the urge to unbutton her jeans and touch herself. Just for a little bit.

Later that week she received a thick letter. Opening it, she pulled out 3 postcard sized photos printed on heavy stock paper. Jenna's heart skipped a beat when she turned them over. It was a series of homemade photos of a naked man, his face covered with black bars that hid his identity. He was skinner than the last man, but his erection was just as prominent.

These photographs joined the other one underneath her mattress.

And so it went. Every few days, Jenna would receive a letter containing explicit material not meant for little girls. Some letters contained typewritten sorties, smutty tales employing a vocabulary the nine year old struggled to comprehend. Some letters were merely pages torn out of dirty magazines. Many though were photos, presumably self-portraits, of a naked man.

Just a few months ago, the only male anatomy she had ever known was Thomas' baby pink penis. Now she had so many photos of male anatomy that she had to move her hiding place from under her mattress to a big shoebox in her closet. She kept it carefully hidden inside a trunk that was itself obscured by a pile of her old peewee wiffleball equipment.

Her collection, however, continued to grow and Jenna eventually abandoned the shoebox, instead simply storing the contraband inside the trunk. Every day she would race home from school and breathlessly open the mailbox. Some days she would be disappointed but, more often than not there would be mail for her. After letting herself in the house, Jenna would quickly grab anything with her name on it and rush upstairs to the safety of her room. Behind the locked door, the girl spread the day's bounty on her bedspread and reached for the letter opener pilfered from her dad's desk.

There were men of all sizes, shapes, ages, and colors. Some had lewd captions that she didn't understand. Some were close-ups of hard penises that appeared almost alien. Most mysteriously of all were photographs of penises and hands covered in a strange, white substance. Jenna couldn't figure out what it was.

She received a magazine that featured a naked man and woman on the cover. With trembling hands, she leafed through the magazine, her eyes devouring each image. This was the first time the nine year old saw how a man's body and a woman's body could fit together. "That's what sex is," she realized. It was fascinating. It was bizarre.

"Does it hurt? Why do they make such funny faces? Why would the woman want to put her mouth on his thing?" These were the many unanswered questions that came to Jenna's mind as she browsed the magazine. The strange white substance made another appearance, furthering the mystery. Jenna was perplexed.

One day, she opened the mailbox to discover a package inside. It was addressed to her. Her curiosity piqued, Jenna raced to her bedroom to open it. Impatiently tearing at the tape, Jenna lifted the box lid to discover a cucumber shaped object made of plain white plastic.

She instantly knew what it was. Hurrying to the trunk in the closet, Jenna rifled the contents until she found the magazine she was looking for. Flipping to the right page, she compared the item in the box to magazine photo. The new gift she received was the same object that the woman in the photo was putting into her vagina. When she had first seen the magazine, Jenna didn't know what it was that woman was putting inside her body. Now she had one of her very own.

She examined it. It was made of a very smooth plastic and was tapered on one end. The other end had a dial on it. With some puttering, Jenna was amazed to see the object hum to life when she turned the dial. "What on earth is that?" Jenna wondered. It was like she was holding her electric toothbrush. She turned it off.

When she had first seen photos of women inserting it, Jenna had felt a little relieved. She herself had often experimented with inserting fingers and pens so it was a relief to see grown-up women doing the same thing. It made her feel normal and convinced that she wasn't doing anything bad or wrong.

Thus emboldened, Jenna took off her underwear and lay down on the bed. Using a mirror, she located her vagina which looked absolutely nothing like that of the women in the magazines. She stared for a moment at her hairless lips and pink opening, trying to picture what it would like when she was older. Then Jenna took her new white toy and tried to do what the women in the photo were doing.

It didn't work. She was simply too small. Jenna was able to fit in a portion of the tapered end before it started to hurt. Marking the spot with her finger, Jenna was dismayed to see that she could barely get half an inch into her body. Her finger went inside easily enough though.

"I need something bigger than my finger," Jenna thought to herself, "but not as big as this white thing." Casting her eyes about the room, Jenna spied some fat Sharpie markers on her desk. She took one. It required a little patience and a lot of determination, but the nine year old was able to fit almost half the marker inside her. It hurt a little bit but not too bad. The determined young girl resolved to insert the Sharpie every day until she got used to it. With this kind of training, she felt certain that maybe one day she could take on her new white toy.


On the surface, Jenna seemed like a normal nine year old girl but in truth she was anything but. Her home life was ordinary enough, save for the fact that she was regularly receiving anonymous mail that either told her she was going to hell or contained photos of men in pornographic detail. The former went straight to the trash but the latter was kept hidden in a trunk in her closet. Indeed, her stash was growing like a proverbial weed. Her parents didn't notice how much time she was spending alone in her room.

Unfortunately, her solitary nature at home also extended to her time at school. Jenna grew a bit more despondent with each passing day. Recess had become an exquisite torture as she was forced to choose between lonely isolation or spiteful taunting. If Jenna tried to play by herself near the playground, she was subjected to open staring or tittering gossip. On worse days there were physical confrontations as Jenna was pushed or had pebbles thrown her way. In face of such treatment, Jenna had no choice but to stay near the recess monitors on the other end of the schoolyard. Only the little kids played here but Jenna didn't dare venture too far.

Sometimes the taunting and teasing spilled past school hours. A group of mocking girls followed her as she walked home from school, jeering and calling her names. They were mostly older kids she didn't know but Jenna was terribly hurt the day she spied some of her former friends in the group.

Between the isolation from her peers and the hateful letters she received, her life couldn't get much more lonesome. But it could, Jenna discovered, become much, much weirder.

She was walking home from school one day, taking an alternate route so the taunting girls wouldn't follow her. Getting home this was added a good fifteen minutes to her walk but Jenna had decided it was better than listening to the mocking catcalls of her tormentors.

The sidewalk wound along a housing development adjacent to some thick woods. Jenna was walking briskly one afternoon when a car pulled up alongside her.

"Hi there!" The window rolled down and a man's face appeared.

"Hi," Jenna said shortly. She stopped walking. Then she remembered how dangerous it was to talk to strangers. Smartly, the nine year old resumed walking.

"Whoa, wait a minute," the man said. He had been traveling the opposite direction so he put his car in reverse to follow Jenna. "Wait!" he said again. "I, uh, have a question."

Jenna didn't respond. Instead she slowed her pace and looked at the man expectantly. He continued slowly moving in reverse to keep up with her.

"Uh, well," he said, "I'm lost. Do you know where Lakeside Drive is?"

"Oh," Jenna said. She stopped walking. She would have started running had he asked her to get into his car or offered candy. Asking for directions was different. "I think it's that way," she pointed.

"Hmmm," the man frowned. "He peered at a large map that sprawled across his steering wheel. "I just came from over there. I've been driving in circles for twenty minutes now. Do you think you could take a look at this map? I'm totally lost."

That seemed like a reasonable request. Jenna looked both ways before crossing the single lane of the road before approaching his car. He was scratching his chin as she peered through the car window at the map.

Jenna scarcely had time to focus her eyes on the map before the man yanked it away. Stunned, the young girl stared at his lap.

"He doesn't have any pants on!" she realized with alarm. He was naked from the waist down, his untanned legs a sharp contrast to the blue vinyl of his car interior. His knees were knobby, his thighs hairy, and his...

"What do you think of this, huh Jenna?" He leered at her as he obscenely handled his genitals. Shocked, Jenna took a step backwards. He was safely visible only from the shoulders up now.

"How - how did you know my name?" Jenna stammered.

"Oh, I've read about you, little slut," the man grinned. "You're just a cock hungry slut, aren't you? Only nine years old and you're already craving cock. Isn't that why you felt up that boy?"

"No!" Jenna exclaimed, her face reddening. These were the same names she was called at recess. It was strange to hear them from an adult.

"Come on, admit it, Jenna," he said. "You're just dying for a taste, aren't you?" As he spoke, he swung the car door open and exposed himself to her again. The dashboard began dinging insistently at the warning that the engine was running with a car door open. Appalled, the young girl stared as the man began fisting his erection. She had seen the same thing countless times in the porn stash in her closet but it was different to see it live in real life.

"What do you think of this, sweetie? Hot, isn't it?" The man's eyebrows raised in cocksure confidence. "I can tell you love it. You can't even take your eyes off it, can you?"

Embarrassed that she was caught staring, Jenna lowered her eyes self-consciously. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped when she heard a familiar sound in the distance. A car was coming! Hastily, Jenna crossed the road and returned to the safety of the sidewalk.

The man slammed his door shut. "Bye bye, sweetie," he grinned suggestively before accelerating away with a screech.

Just like that, it was over. Still stunned, Jenna continued her walk home as her mind reeled at the events. It was troubling that he knew her name, and even more troubling that he called her names. Jenna couldn't understand why he was so mean to her. His bold exhibitionism was shocking but, truthfully, it was nothing she hadn't seen before.

"Hi Jenna," a voice called out behind her. For a moment, the young girl was fearful that the man had returned. Her heart thumping, she looked behind her to see Mr. Brecht riding past on his bike.

"Hi, Mr. Brecht," Jenna waved, relieved. He had a trailer attached to his bicycle. "Where are you going?"

"The plan was to go pick up some groceries," he told her, "but I realized I forgot my wallet at my office so now I have to go get it."

"Oh." Mr. Brecht was strange that way. Whereas other people would drive to the grocery store, he thought nothing of bicycling the twelve mile round trip and hauling his groceries in a trailer. Her mother often joked how she wished her father were as young and fit as Mr. Brecht.

"How come you're not taking the bus?"

Jenna shrugged. "I don't know. I felt like walking," she replied.

"Want a ride?" Mr. Brecht offered. "You can sit in the trailer."

"Really?" Jenna's eyes burst wide with enthusiasm.

"Sure!" Mr. Brecht urged. "I'm heading that direction anyway. And you probably don't weigh too much, right?" Jenna carefully climbed into the bike trailer. It was designed as a trailer for parents who wanted to bike with their kids but Mr. Brecht bought it to haul groceries. There was just enough room for her to squeeze in.

"Here we go!" Mr. Brecht called. They slowly began moving. He pedaled his way to a good pace and soon they were zipping along. Jenna was disappointed when he pulled into the driveway of her house.

"Thank you!" she said happily as she disembarked the trailer. He waved and biked off. The strange event with the exhibitionist driver already half forgotten, Jenna remembered to check the mailbox before letting herself in the house. There were three envelopes addressed to her. After a quick snack of milk and peanut butter crackers, Jenna retired to her room to open her latest mail. Even after all these weeks of receiving letters, the little girl still felt an excited thrill before opening a sealed envelope.

Today's mail contained a hate letter (she only read the first sentence before throwing it away), a photo of a naked man wearing sunglasses and holding a rather unsubstantial erection (the photograph nevertheless joined the pile in her closet trunk), and, last of all, an erotic story printed on plain white paper. Jenna only read the first few paragraphs before gleefully folding it up and hiding it under her pillow. She would save it for later.

Over the past few days, more and more letters had contained erotic stories. Jenna read them greedily, like a parched traveler finding an oasis in the desert. She found, to her surprise, that she liked reading the stories even better than looking at dirty pictures. The little girl didn't understand all the terminology at first but she gradually unlocked the meaning of words such as cock, pussy, and cumming. Her young mind slowly gained a clearer picture of what sex was, not just how it was done but the arcane rituals that came before and after the act.

After dinner that night, Jenna announced to her parents (as she did every night) that she was going to her room to do homework. Once she heard the TV turn on, she knew her parents were well occupied for the remainder of the evening. Locking her bedroom door, Jenna spent the next hour blissfully reading and re-reading the new story.

After a few minutes, the nine year old felt a familiar moist feeling between her legs. Knowing what it meant, Jenna opened the secret trunk in her closet and retrieved a mirror and a black Sharpie marker. Wiggling out of her underwear, the little girl settled herself on the bed and spread her legs.

When Jenna had first started training herself with the Sharpie, the insertion was difficult not only because she was small but because the marker tended to painfully rub against the tender tissue inside her body. Jenna had discovered, however, that her wetness made it much easier to insert the Sharpie. She naively considered it a happy coincidence that reading erotic stories or looking at dirty pictures made her wet.

Jenna placed the mirror between her legs and fiddled with it until she could easily see between her legs. Her dark pink slit contrasted sharply with the smooth and puffy flesh that surrounded it. A slight glistening announced the first hint of her arousal. Taking the Sharpie, Jenna positioned it at her secret entrance and gently pushed.

Her young body easily accepted the fat marker, something that wasn't possible a few weeks ago. Using her muscles, Jenna clenched the marker as she continued reading the story. By the time she finished, it was very wet between her legs. She carefully withdrew the black Sharpie, noting that she could now insert a little more than half of it. Reaching back into the trunk, Jenna produced another Sharpie, red this time.

This was something new that the little girl had begun experimenting with. She partially inserted the black Sharpie, just a little bit, and then wedged the red Sharpie next to it. Her vagina expanded to accommodate both. Concentrating hard, Jenna slowly worked the markers until she felt very full inside. A glance at the mirror revealed the two markers buried obscenely between the nine year old's hairless lips as Jenna grinned proudly. She kept the markers inside her until it was time for dinner.


The next day, Jenna was walking home from school, taking her usual secluded route. After yesterday's incident, she felt an uncontrollable twinge of nervousness each time a car went by but, thankfully, none of them slowed or stopped. Even so, she walked with a heightened sense of urgency and awareness.

It was this awareness perhaps that ill-served her, ultimately. A strange sound came from the forest, one so odd that Jenna slowed her pace. It sounded like a human voice but... hearing nothing, Jenna resumed walking. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her.

"Help..." Jenna stopped and cocked an ear to the forest. "Help! Please?" It was unmistakable now. The voice was weak but it was clearly a man's voice.

"Help!" Jenna hesitated. The forest had a thick canopy of leaves that made it seem darker than it really was. Heavy brush further obscured her view into the dense woods. Last week's encounter made her feel especially wary but..

"Someone please help me..."

The pleading voice persuaded her. "Someone might be hurt in there," Jenna thought. "They might need help." Clenching her fists, Jenna stepped off the sidewalk and into the forest.

Fallen branches cracked beneath her shoes and the tall grass rustled against the denim of her jeans. With some difficulty, Jenna pushed her way pas some thick underbrush. Ten yards ahead her eyes made out a small clearing. A body was visible on the forest floor, the figure doubled over and motionless.

Her desire to help now overshadowed any lingering fear. Jenna hurried to his side. "Hey. Are you okay, mister?"

"Uhh," the man groaned, still crouched in a near fetal position, his back to her. "It hurts bad." His arms were crossed tightly over his stomach. Jenna knelt beside him and tentatively touched his elbow.

"Um, do you have a phone I can use?" she asked. "Should I call 911?"

At her touch, however, the man moved so quickly that he was just a blur. In one smooth motion, he flipped onto his back and snatched her hand, guiding it to his midsection. His own large hand fumbled over hers as Jenna felt her fingers close around something hard.

It took a moment to comprehend this turn of events. "H- hey!" Jenna stammered. She mentally recoiled as her fingers registered the feeling of his hot flesh. His grip was tight over hers, forcing her hand along the length of his shaft.

"No, don't!" Jenna panicked. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, giving her enough strength to wrestle her hand free. But faster than a rattlesnake, the man grabbed her other hand, his fingers closing like a vise around her wrist.

"Ow. Ow!" Jenna screamed. "Let me go! That hurts!" He forced her hand back to his midsection. With a sickening sensation, Jenna felt her hand brush against the rubbery top of his thing. She tried to pull her hand away again and nearly succeeded, her fingers worming past his firm grip. But he responded by squeezing her hand so hard that Jenna yelped in pain.

His grasp tightened on her wrist and he doubled over again on the forest floor, tugging her along with him. Helpless, Jenna remained in a sitting position as she leaned against his backside, her arm involuntarily snaking away toward his crotch. Another wave of disgust overtook her as she felt her hand brush again against him.

"Uh... Uh... oh God..." The man was grunting now, his movements more frantic. The nine year old girl was frightened and confused by the increasingly animalistic sounds that came from him.

"Uh... Ohhh... Ohhh..." he moaned even louder, raising the hair on Jenna's neck. And then the little girl felt something unexpected: a feeling of warm wetness on her hand. Jenna blinked, wondering if she was imagining things. She couldn't see her hand buried in his midsection so she rubbed her fingers together, confirming the presence of a warm liquid substance on her hand. Alarmed, she yanked her it away , this time succeeding since his grip had loosened considerably and he lay oddly relaxed on the ground.

Surprised at her newfound freedom, Jenna rolled away on the damp leaves and old branches that littered the forest floor, her panic muddling her brain so much that she had a hard time coordinating her limbs. As such, she scrambled on her hands and knees for a few yards until she was finally able to push herself off the ground and onto her feet.

"Mmm," the man rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows. "Oh, that was so wonderful..." His zipper was open and his genitalia was lewdly displayed. For the first time now, Jennifer could see clearly what his frantic movements had focused upon and what he had forced her to touch. The nine year old saw how his hardness was fading now, how it was starting to droop like a tired flagpole.

Without thinking Jenna wiped her hands on her jeans, remembering too late about the foreign substance. Disgusted, she stared remorsefully at her pant legs that were now streaked with milky white stains.

"Uggh," Jenna grimaced. Better to wait until she could get home and properly wash her hands. She was backing away slowly when the man spoke again.

"That was so wonderful," he repeated. "Don't you think so Jenna?"

The little girl froze in her tracks. "How did you know my name?" she whispered.

"Lots of people know your name now, Jenna," he laughed. "Hey, do you ever play games with that little boy anymore? Can I come play too sometime?"

He laughed again but by now Jenna was already running away. Twigs snapped as she barreled through the thick underbrush, her jacket catching on something but she powered on anyway, ignoring the sound of ripping fabric. Stray branches scratched at her face but all Jenna could feel now was the hot blood rushing to her cheeks in humiliation and despair. She didn't stop running when she reached the sidewalk, her sneakers pounding against the hard concrete as she willed her legs to move.

Finally, Jenna's muscles could do no more and she slowed to a walk. Her heart and lungs burned from the exertion but the quivering that shook her body was not from fatigue.

"It's not fair," Jenna thought, unable to hold back her tears. "I didn't do anything wrong! Why can't everyone just leave me alone?" She moved her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow but stopped just in time. This was the hand that was contaminated from her encounter with the man. Her palm was sticky dry now but several long strands still adorned the back of her hand like an unfinished cobweb. Jenna wondered what it was and why it gave off such a peculiar odor. Before it dried, the stuff had felt strange between her fingers, almost like it was an oily milk or something...

Jenna stopped in her tracks. Her mind raced back to all the photographs of male anatomy that were hidden in her closet. Those men had been covered in the same thing. "Is it some sort of weird pee?" Jenna wondered. "Gross!" If the man in the woods had peed on her, then that was just adding insult to injury. Jenna wondered if God was punishing her for doing something wrong. Suddenly she remembered all those hate letters that she had thrown away, the letters telling her she was a sick, dirty, perverted girl.

A great sense of shame began to weigh heavy on Jenna's shoulders. "I'm going to stop," she vowed. Upon reaching home, Jenna marched to her room with a plastic trash bag and proceeded to empty the contents of the trunk in her closet. By the time she was done, the bag sagged from the weight but did not break. Carefully, she lugged it outside to the trash bins. The garbage cart for her house was tipped over but Jenna didn't want to touch it.

"It's probably dirty," she thought to herself. "I'll just put it in Mr. Brecht's bin. He won't mind. Tomorrow is trash day anyway." With a bit of effort, the little girl managed to dump the bulging trash bag into the bin. Sighing in relief, Jenna went to wash up.

"I'm going to be good from now on," she thought, washing her hands in hot, sudsy water. Suddenly hungry, she began rooting through the refrigerator in search of a snack. "I'm not going to touch myself down there anymore. I'm going to stop putting things inside me." Jenna poured herself some apple juice. She was about to raise the glass to her lips when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hello, is this Jenna? It's Mr. Brecht."

"Oh hi, Mr Brecht," Jenna said. He had never called their house before. "My parents aren't home. Can you call back later?"

"Actually, Jenna, I was hoping to talk to you. Do you think you could come over for a minute?"

"Sure," Jenna said. "Should I come over right now?"

"The sooner, the better," he responded.

Jenna hung up. Pulling her shoes on, she crossed the alley and circled to the front door to ring the doorbell to Mr. Brecht's house. "Come on in!" he called. Through the screen door, she could see him in the kitchen so she let herself in. His back was to her as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Jenna wondered if he had just woken up because he was still wearing his robe.

"Hi Jenna," he said, turning to face her. "I've been waiting for you."

Jenna's jaw dropped in surprise. Mr. Brecht's robe as open. He wasn't wearing anything underneath.


Jenna couldn't believe she was standing face to face with her practically naked neighbor. She looked askance at his face and found him smiling smugly at her. Her eyes dropped immediately to the floor. "Uh, Mr. Brecht?" she stammered. "Y-your robe..."

"Let's put this into perspective," he said to her. "First of all, I think you've seen this sort of thing before. Haven't you?" He pointed to the countertop. Jenna's heart sank at what she saw. There, piled neatly on the counter, was the contents of the trash bag she had just thrown out.

"I... I mean," Jenna's voice seemed stuck in her throat. It felt like a bad dream. Mr. Brecht, always so friendly and harmless, always so kind and thoughtful, was now confronting her about her naughty collection. The man who had recounted so many funny stories with her family over dinner was now standing completely exposed before her.

"Let's see here," Mr. Brecht said, picking up a photograph. It was a closeup of an erect penis. He held the photo next to his own anatomy for comparison. "What do you think? I guess this guy is bigger than me but he's got a hard-on and I don't. Not at the moment anyway."

"Um, I... those aren't..." Jenna frantically tried to think of an excuse.

"These aren't yours?" he completed the sentence for her. "Oh please. I saw you toss this trash bag away with my own eyes. And besides, these letters are all addressed to you. Really Jenna. First you get caught molesting that boy next door and now this."

Defeated, Jenna stared at the kitchen floor. "Are you going to tell my parents?" she whispered.

"You're a troubled young girl," Mr. Brecht told her. "Kids your age shouldn't be looking at things like this. You know that, don't you?" Her face was ashen. He would tell her parents and they would undoubtedly mete out harsh punishment. But then Mr. Brecht laughed. "Well, that's what your parents would tell you at least," he told her.

"What?" Jenna asked, confused.

"You're lucky to have found me Jenna," he told her. "I personally have no problem with children being curious about sex."


"You might even say I'm willing to lend a hand," he said. She didn't notice the suggestive tone of his comment. All the time they had been talking, Mr. Brecht had been inching closer and closer to her. But now Jenna found herself backed into a corner. Still he was closing in.

"You shouldn't be afraid, Jenna," he counseled her. "It's perfectly normal for a young girl like you be curious." The older man was so close now that he completely filled her field of vision. Jenna had nowhere else to avert her gaze now. His body was completely on display. He wagged his hips, making his penis jiggle in turn. "I bet you've wondered what it's like to see one up close, haven't you?"

Jenna suddenly remembered the man who exposed himself in the car and the man in the woods. This time was different though. He was cornering her, and now he was so close that it rubbed against her cheek. His male scent greeted her nostrils.

"What do you think, Jenna?" Mr. Brecht asked her. "Maybe you would like to see what it tastes like?" She shook her head no but he continued rubbing against her. His penis was still soft and dangling, not straight and hard like the ones in the pictures. He lifted it up to reveal the sack that hung behind his shaft and moved closer. Jenna kept her mouth shut as she felt the strange, withered skin of his sack against her closed lips. He let his penis drape onto her as he pressed his scrotum against her chin, the soft tube of flesh balancing on her nose and forehead. His pungent smell was inescapable now.

"I like the way this feels," he told her. "I like the way my cock feel on your face. I like the way your lips feel against my balls. You know what happens when you make a man feel nice?" Mr. Brecht continued rubbing himself against her face. His penis poked at her lips, caressed her cheeks. The little girl soon began noticing a change in it. Yes. It was growing. Like a balloon, it was slowly inflating before her very eyes.

"He gets really hard," Mr. Brecht informed her. "That's how you know if a man likes you."

"Uh, okay," Jenna answered. His stiffened penis throbbed hot against her cheek. The nine year old wished she could get away but she was cornered. The countertop painfully jabbed at her back as she craned her neck to move away from his erection.

"And why do you think a man gets hard?" he asked her. "Care to take a guess?"

"I don't know." It was strange to be discussing this with him. Previously, he had just been a neighbor, just another adult she knew and one who happened to be kind and trustworthy. Now she wasn't sure.

"You know," he said, " I happened to find those Sharpies in the stuff you threw out." He went to the kitchen table and began shuffling through the pile. Jenna was glad when he didn't return to back her into the corner. "Now why would you be throwing away these perfect good markers?" He found one and waved it under Jenna's nose. With a pang of guilt, the young girl realized how strongly they smelled of her own scent.

"What do you do with these, Jenna?" he asked patiently.

"I... I put them, um, inside," she mumbled relucantly, blushing because the private life she led in her bedroom was now spilling out.

"Of course," Mr. Brecht nodded knowingly. "So when a man gets hard, it's because..."

Jenna stared at him in disbelief. "Because you want to put it... inside, um..." She couldn't complete the sentence and instead recalled all those photographs and erotic stories. It had always been between a man and woman. Adults. It never occurred to her that a man would want to do that with a girl.

"Yes!" Mr. Brecht smiled at her. "More specifically, I want to put it inside YOU." Though he was now leaning against the kitchen table, Mr. Brecht's penis still pointed at her as if it were personally accusing her.

"But... I'm not a grown-up," Jenna protested.

"It doesn't matter," Mr. Brecht told her. "You've still got the same body parts as a woman. You got these Sharpies inside you, right?"

Jenna again blushed at the mention of them. "Well, yes," she admitted. "But..."

"But what?" Mr. Brecht asked. He picked up the white vibrator. "You were even putting this inside your pussy, weren't you?"

"No," Jenna contradicted. It was strange hearing him say "pussy", a word that had previously confined to the stories she had read. "I never did," Jenna asserted. "It wouldn't, um, fit."

"I see," Mr. Brecht said thoughtfully. Suddenly he grinned at her. "You know, Jenna, when I first heard those stories about you and your neighbor... I'll be honest: I was totally turned on. I thought, what kind of little girl seduces a younger boy? I thought about you a lot, about how you must have been some cock-hungry kiddie slut."

Jenna felt a twinge of shame at his words, remembering all the names she had been called at recess. He continued, "But during all those fantasies, I always reminded myself that I was wrong, you were a good, clean-cut kid. Perfect normal." He folded his arms across his bare chest. "But now... Now! It turns out my fantasies were spot on!"

She didn't really understand what he was talking about but Mr. Brecht plowed on anyway. "So Jenna," he said, "I'm going to give you a choice. I won't tell your parents about what I found. I'll keep it a secret that you've got all this stuff." He waved at the assorted photographs and letters on the kitchen table. Jenna felt a wave of relief.

"I won't tell on one condition: you have to do something for me."

"All right," Jenna agreed naively.



"Good. Now here comes your choice. Option one: you can take this white vibrator and let me watch you put it in your pussy. It'll probably hurt since you won't know what you're doing." He held it up and let Jenna see it. "Or, option two: you can let me put my cock inside your pussy. I know what I'm doing so I'll be gentle and it won't hurt as much."

It didn't seem so bad when he put it that way, Jenna considered. Perhaps Mr. Brecht was a good guy after all. He was doing her a favor by a keeping a secret and, moreover, he clearly didn't want her to hurt her.

Mr. Brecht began tapping his foot. "So which is it going to be?" he asked.

"Um, okay," Jenna said softly. "You can do it."

"That's just what I wanted to hear," Mr. Brecht approved. "Why don't you start by taking off your clothes?"

Jenna glanced around the kitchen. "Right here?" she clarified.

"Sure, why not?" Mr. Brecht took a sip from his coffee cup and sat down at the table.

"Ummm, are you going to stay here?" Jenna asked. Despite what she had agreed to do, the young girl still felt bashful about taking off her clothes in the presence of someone else. It didn't help that the someone else was an adult man.

"Look, Jenna," Mr. Brecht said earnestly, "by the time we're done, we're not going to have any secrets at all. Don't be shy. Go ahead, you can do it. You can practically see me naked too, right?"

This was true. Mr. Brecht sat brazenly with his legs spread, his robe still falling open. His well-tanned body was obscured by dark and curly hair that grew thick on his chest and legs. This was the same bushy hair that grew thick around his crotch, the hair that now provided a bed of sorts for his deflated penis which had shrunk to its original size.

Reluctantly, Jenna began undressing under the watchful eye of Mr. Brecht. She unbuttoned almost all the buttons on her shirt before deciding she didn't want to take it off first. Instead, the nine year old slowly undid the clasp of her jeans. At least here she still had underwear underneath her jeans. She wiggled her hips, letting the denim pants fall to her ankles where she kicked them off along with her socks. Self-consciously, she fumbled with the final buttons holding her shirt closed.

A quick glance at Mr. Brecht revealed he was still watching her intently. Moreover, his penis was growing again, inflating before her very eyes. Jenna was so distracted by it that she forgot her own reticience for undressing. By the time she lowered her white underpants to the floor, Mr. Brecht's penis was fully erect and pointing straight at her, as if it were watching as well.

"You're beautiful," Mr. Brecht murmured. "You have no idea how beautiful you are."

Jenna smiled shyly upon hearing his praise. "No, keep your hands at your sides," he urged. "Don't cover yourself up. Let me take a good look at you..."

Jenna did as he said, though her hands fidgeted as they hung nervous at her sides. She thought she could see Mr. Brecht's hard penis throbbing as he stared at her. "I did that," the nine year old realized. "I made him hard." She had heard many a playground joke about boys and their "stiffies" but this was the first time she truly understood it. The erotic stories that arrived in the mail often described a woman making a man hard. Jenna couldn't help but feel a little proud that she had done the same for Mr. Brecht.

"Come on," Mr. Brecht said, standing up. He took her by the hand and led her from the kitchen, pausing to grab a handful of Sharpie markers. Amused, Jenna watched his erection bounce as he walked. He led her to his bedroom where he directed her to sit on the bed.

"First things first," Mr. Brecht told her. He handed her the Sharpies. "I'd like to see you put one of these inside yourself. Go ahead and lie down." He sat down at the foot of the bed.

Jenna arranged herself so she was leaning against a pillow propped up against his headboard. Sitting with her legs closed and knees locked, she selected a marker. Feeling the weight of Mr. Brecht's gaze, she timidly hesitated. Being naked in front of him was the first hurdle. Now spreading her legs was the second. With great self-consciousness, the young girl slowly moved her knees apart. Her slit opened in conjunction with her spreading legs, revealing her baby pink insides surrounded by smooth and hairless skin.

Jenna moved the Sharpie into place at her pink opening. She noticed Mr. Brecht had begun touching his penis as he gazed intently between her legs. Gently applying pressure, the young girl pushed the marker against herself. She felt her body yield as the hard plastic tube gained entrance. Jenna gritted her teeth. She was quite dry so inserting the marker was not as easy as usual. Working slowly, she was able to slide it bit by bit until only an inch of the fat Sharpie remained.

Mr. Brecht had a look of wonderment and admiration on his face. "Bravo," he congratulated her. "I am very impressed."

It had never occurred to Jenna that someone would be impressed that she could do this. "Really?" she asked.

"Really impressed," Mr. Brecht nodded. "A girl your age being able to do that with a Sharpie is remarkable."

"I can put two Sharpies in at once too," boasted Jenna. She was starting to feel a little bit more comfortable with what they were doing. "Want to see?"

He smiled at her. "Maybe some other time. What I'd really like to do is to put my cock where that Sharpie is." He moved to the bedside table and retrieved a bottle of something. Squirting it onto his hands, he began working it into the length of his cock.

"What's that?" Jenna asked.

"Lubricant," he answered. "It will make my cock slippery and easier to put inside you. Why don't you take that Sharpie out?"

Jenna watched him apply the lubricant for a few seconds before reaching for the Sharpie. Worried that she was still too dry, she carefully withdrew the marker but was surprised to find it slip out effortlessly. Reaching down with a finger, Jenna discovered she had become a little wet since inserting the Sharpie. She wondered why. She didn't feel as excited as when she read the erotic stories alone in her bedroom but she had to admit was interesting to watch Mr. Brecht rubbing his penis.

"All right, I'm ready," Mr. Brecht said. "Here, why don't you lie on the bed like this?" He rearranged Jenna so she her slim butt almost hung over the edge of the bed.

Jenna trembled slightly, her knees bent and legs akimbo as she spread them in the air. Mr. Brecht's form towered over her as he stood by the bed but all she could see was his erection, jutting forth like a menacing weapon. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure about this. His penis, glistening with lubricant, was much larger than the Sharpie and probably too large to fit inside her.

"Umm, Mr. Brecht?" Jenna began. Panic began blotting out all rational thought in her mind. His hard penis loomed between her slim thighs. It was too big! Surely it would hurt her, possibly kill her... "Mr. Brecht, I don't-"

"You've got to relax," Mr. Brecht interrupted her. Leaning forward, he positioned himself between her legs. "If you tense up it will hurt more."

"But... I don't know if I want to do this anymore," Jenna babbled. "I changed my mind. I want to do the other thing, I want to put the white vibrator in me instead. Is that okay?" She moved to sit up but Mr. Brecht placed an iron hand on her shoulder, instantly immobilizing her.

"Too late now, Jenna," he said. She felt him probing her. "You made your choice. And it was me."

Jenna gazed in terror at Mr. Brecht's face but he didn't look at her. Instead his expression was one of intent concentration. She couldn't see his penis anymore but she could definitely feel it pressing against her. Parting her. Entering her. Jenna gasped sharply, partly in pain and partly in surprise. He was really doing it. He was going inside her.

Something cold and plastic touched her arm. Jenna glanced at the Sharpies . All those weeks of training alone in her room with it had made this moment possible. Wanting to insert the vibrator had led to her experimentation with the markers. It had started out as an innocent game but Jenna had unwittingly made possible her rape by Mr. Brecht.

"Uhh," Jenna gasped again. His initial entry had been effortless but now the going was getting tough. He thrusted firmly again and Jenna felt a dull pain deep inside.

"Mmm," Mr. Brecht said. Jenna noticed he was perspiring lightly and his eyes were glassy. "I don't think I can get anymore in. How does that feel Jenna?" He no longer had to hold her still by the shoulder for she was impaled and it was his cock that held her down now.

"Uhh," she gasped again. The little girl felt very full and very stretched. "It feels... I don't know." She had thought having Mr. Brecht inside her would be just like having the Sharpies inside her but she was wrong. The cold plastic of the fat markers felt vastly different to Mr. Brecht's penis. He felt warm. Alive. Her eyes met his and Jenna felt a wave of confusing sentiments. It was like he was connected to her, both physically and emotionally.

He began thrusting in and out of her. This too brought a cavalcade of sensations. In her mind, Jenna knew she didn't want to be here with Mr. Brecht, didn't want to be doing this with him. But as his penis moved inside her, she couldn't shake the notion that it felt... right.

The little girl was completely befuddled. When she had walked in the door and saw Mr. Brecht naked, her first instinct had been to flee. Then when he initially moved to penetrate her, the young girl had been flooded with pure panic. But now, Jenna felt gratifyingly pleased to be the center of such male attention. She could feel his hardness inside her body, she could smell his masculine scent enveloping her. Her hands clutched his smooth forearms that propped himself up as he moved between her spread legs. Their eyes met again. Jenna felt a perplexing closeness to him.

Mr. Brecht began moving faster and faster, igniting the slow burn that had been smoldering inside Jenna. "Ahh," the little girl said again, but this time it was not in pain. The outburst surprised even herself. She wanted something but she didn't know what. Sudddenly, Mr. Brecht moaned. Jenna watched with wide eyes as his face scrunched into a funny expression.

The light suddenly dawned on her. "He's getting that feeling," Jenna realized. "That same feeling I get when I touch myself..." She experienced a sense of self-recognition as he shuddered and trembled, then a sense of pride followed. The nine year old suddenly felt like a grown-up for being able to produce such pleasure for an adult male.

Mr. Brecht's movements gradually slowed before stopping altogether, though he remained embedded inside her. He was breathing hard, as was she. It wasn't the kind of breathing from bicycling up a hill but rather the hard breathing that came with watching a scary movie. Her heart was racing and she felt strangely energized.

Their eyes met and, for a moment, Jenna felt a very possessive sense of attachment to him. But then he looked away and pulled his hips back, withdrawing completely from her. Jenna flinched. It still hurt a bit down there but the pain was quickly replaced by a feeling of emptiness. Gingerly, Jenna reached down and tentatively explored the remains of her innocence, now a dark and angry shade of pink. Her fingers made contact with something wet that seemed to be dribbling from her body. Expecting blood, the young girl was surprised to find instead a strangely viscous fluid that seemed oddly familiar.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Brecht asked. "You seem awfully quiet. Did I hurt you?"

Jenna slowly sat up, wincing slightly as the bed pressed against her bottom. "I don't... I... Yes. Maybe a little."

"It's only like that the first time," he told her. "It will be easier next time."

"Next time?" Jenna asked.

Mr. Brecht patted her shoulder. "You liked what we did. Didn't you? I saw your face. You loved it, right?"

"I... I don't know," replied Jenna. She was feeling confused. It had hurt, but also felt nice. She didn't want him inside her, but then didn't want him to leave. She had felt proud, but also a little ashamed.

"Look, I have to shower and go to work," Mr. Brecht said. "You can get dressed and let yourself out, right?"

Jenna nodded.

"Good," he said. "I'll see you later, okay?" With that, he disappeared into the bathroom. Jenna made her way to the kitchen where her clothes still lay on the floor. She realized she was walking somewhat bow-legged due to the soreness between her legs. Carefully dressing, Jenna let herself out and crossed the alley to her house, lost in her thoughts. A few months ago, her perception of sex was merely the pure innocence of exploring her own body. Sex had grown much more complicated since then.

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