From: PreteenLover@MailAndNews.com   
      
   Story: A Dirty Little Girl g10   
      
   ( Fg, ped, scat )   
      
   Melanie Hayes was a ten year-old girl not concerned with normal   
   ten year-old girl things.   
      
   She knew people thought she was pretty.  She had dark, fine hair   
   that fell to the middle of her back.  Her eyes were large and   
   dark brown, with long lashes; often passersby paused and stared   
   and commented to their companions about what a gorgeous woman   
   she'd be someday.  Her bones were fine and long, preparing her   
   body for height and delicacy.  Being ten, her legs were a lot   
   longer than her torso, so she walked a little awkwardly, and many   
   middle-aged men couldn't help but stare.  Her breasts were just   
   puffy buds, and she didn't even wear a training bra yet, although   
   her mother had suggested nervously once that perhaps she should.   
   It was mysterious and odd to her, the way people treated her   
   because of how she looked.  And if she had been any other girl,   
   she'd have long ago learned how to use that to her ownadvantage.   
      
   Melanie, however, wasn't really aware of all those things.  Not   
   the way her parents were.  Not the way her teachers or her   
   friends were.  Others looked at her and saw a budding beauty,   
   sensitive and shy and needing to be nurtured and protected.   
   Melanie looked at herself, however, and saw a dirty little girl.   
      
   She was raised in a loving home by very religious parents.  They   
   were not severe at all, just dedicated to a pure and holy way of   
   life.  Happiness and security was the order of the day for   
   Melanie.  She was raised as correctly as any ideal parental   
   situation could hope to produce.  But it didn't help.  It didn't   
   stop her from doing nasty things.  What was so wrong with her   
   that she could be brought up in such a nice home with such sweet,   
   loving parents, yet she could still be so sick inside?  So   
   perverted!   
      
   With guilty, twisted pleasure, Melanie had to admit it to   
   herself: she loved to play with her shit.   
      
   Melanie always produced very firm-to-hard medium-sized turds, and   
   she had to work very hard to push them out.  Often she had to   
   push fingers into her vagina to nudge at the poop from a better   
   angle.  Sometimes she would simply reach straight up into her ass   
   and dig those nuggets right out.   
   	   
   Being a child, Melanie was extremely ashamed of her bad little   
   habit.  At the same time, though, she was also extremely excited   
   by her bad little habit.  She took to obsessively washing her   
   hands with her father's Lava soap in the garage.  Old color   
   pictures of her show her hands to almost always be the brightest   
   shade of scrubbed-pink.  Shit, of course, stinks.  Really,   
   really, stinks.  It is an odor that seeps into the skin and stays   
   there for quite some time after the shit itself has been cleaned   
   away.  And Melanie secretly, joyously, sniffed her fingers and   
   hands as often as she could.   
   	   
   At age nine, Melanie began shitting her panties at school and   
   throwing them into the trash can, vaguely--in her own   
   prepubescent way--getting off on the idea that others would be   
   smelling her shit in the school bathroom for days to come.  Her   
   usual routine was to go to lunch, let it combine with breakfast   
   inside her for a nice big chunk, then she'd be excused from class   
   late in the day to crap it all out into her panties while she   
   stood, half-crouched, in a locked stall under the tiny frosted   
   bathroom window.  She loved to hear the younger kids playing at   
   recess outside while she loaded her panties full of shit.  She   
   imagined some of them did what she did, and that made her dizzy   
   with urges she couldn't satisfy, but loved to feel, nonetheless.   
   	   
   Melanie's panties-messing happened only a few times a month, so   
   her regularly absent panties from the laundry basket wouldn't   
   become too noticeable.  Her family lived very close to a K-Mart,   
   and that was back in the days when a girl could walk around her   
   neighborhood alone, so Melanie went up there often and spent her   
   allowance on lot of new panties.  Eventually she would buy boys'   
   underwear instead of girls', because it held the shit against her   
   ass so much better, and for those few minutes in the bathroom   
   stall that she would squish it around and listen to it crackle   
   and squirt, it was so much more satisfying to know that she was   
   doing it all in a boys' pair of white cotton briefs.   
      
   The end of school was always only a half-hour or so away when   
   Melanie would return from her weekly bathroom shit.  She tried to   
   do it only on a Friday, because the other kids were often more   
   excited then and less likely to be concentrating on trying to   
   find the source of a strange poopy-smell.  However, Melanie's   
   fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Reeves, did smell something.  She   
   pulled Melanie aside after school one day.   
      
   "You and I need to have a chat," said Mrs. Reeves, settling into   
   a student's desk beside Melanie.  The girl was surprised her   
   teacher could fit, but then she noticed for the first time how   
   slender and petite Mrs. Reeves really was.  Being tall, Mrs.   
   Reeves gave the much smaller Melanie the impression that she was   
   a giant in every way.  But that just wasn't true.  Looking at her   
   now, Melanie could see that her teacher was a very attractive,   
   shapely woman.   
      
   The friends Melanie always walked home with were waiting for her   
   outside the open classroom door, in shock and amazement, since   
   Melanie was a model student and never got into any trouble.   
   Melanie herself was very alarmed as well, and completely   
   embarrassed that her friends were watching her.  With an   
   impatient flurry of her hands, Melanie sent them grumbling away.   
      
   "I'm glad we'll be alone for this little talk, because there's   
   some things that you might not want other people to hear."  Mrs.   
   Reeves held Melanie's gaze for a long time before looking away   
   and clearing her throat.  Melanie was terrified, but sat very   
   still.   
      
   "You don't--um--wipe yourself very well, my dear," murmured Mrs.   
   Reeves in a low and gentle voice.  She leaned toward Melanie and   
   gave her a very small, very sympathetic, pitying smile.  "Your   
   bottom is dirty sometimes, and I can smell it."   
      
   Melanie didn't know what to say.  She was sweating heavily under   
   her clothes, and her bare bottom inside her skirt suddenly felt   
   extremely naked.  Her habit was to wipe with her bare hands until   
   her bottom was dry.  It left wonderful streaks that she would   
   scrape off later and taste, thin little flakes that melted on her   
   tongue before bath time.  Now she sensed almost painfully that   
   those smelly brown streaks were all but burning into her skin,   
   sending clear signals to Mrs. Reeves that she was a very dirty   
   girl.   
      
   Mrs. Reeves sat quietly watching Melanie squirm.  Melanie in   
   return tried to act casual, and eventually she shrugged and   
   looked toward the open classroom door.  In the distance down the   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)