From: OneSickPuppy@HotMail.com   
      
   Story: Founder's Day  g11   
      
   (Mg pedo nc rape)   
      
         It was the morning of Founder's Day, and I had an   
   impulse to take a stroll around the village. Not that I   
   expected to find anything so early in the day. Usually, it   
   wasn't until evening -- sometimes late at night -- that   
   anything turned up. In fact one Founder's Day, several years   
   ago, I'd found nothing the whole day.   
      
         That was an unpleasant memory.   
      
         But today was a warm, sunny, perfect spring day. Maybe   
   that's what it was - I was feeling a bit of romance in the   
   air.   
      
         The village square was mostly deserted, though the   
   usual retirees occupied their usual benches. I'd always   
   thought that when I retired, I'd prefer to stay up late at   
   night and sleep late in the morning, but these folks seemed   
   to be up and out with the sun every morning. Most of the men   
   were too old to participate in Founder's Day, and of course   
   none of the old women were Chosen females. So they just hung   
   out as usual, though today at least, they did gossip and   
   reminisce about notable Founder's Days of the past. Mostly   
   these trips down memory lane annoyed me, since I was so   
   focused on today, and all the other Founder's Days ahead of   
   me.   
      
         Well, like I said, I heeded my impulse and took an   
   early morning stroll around the square. There were a few   
   females out -- those, of course, who had not been Chosen in   
   earlier years. The older they were, the more confident that   
   they had nothing to worry about this year. Of course, there   
   was always the possibility of a late Miracle. Ten years ago   
   a fifty-five year old grandmother had been Chosen. So even   
   the oldest Unchosen female was always just a bit wary coming   
   out on Founder's Day. I mean, they all had to come out and   
   take their chances sometime during the day, but many put it   
   off as long as possible. Hence usually better hunting later   
   in the day.   
      
         Now and then, however, some female imagined that   
   because the males had lower expectations in the morning,   
   venturing out early in the day was the best bet. And such   
   was the case this morning, as it turned out -- to my and the   
   village's great good fortune.   
      
         About half way around the square, I ventured into the   
   Smoke Shop, hoping to have a brief word with Barney, the   
   proprietor. I stepped through the door, bell jangling, to   
   announce my arrival -- and stopped. An attractive woman,   
   early thirties, was making a purchase at the counter. She   
   turned and looked at me, anxiety briefly flashing across her   
   face. She need not have worried. I got no Spark from her.   
   She was not a Chosen one, at least not this year.   
      
         Then I saw the real source of her anxiety. Standing   
   next to her holding her hand was a young girl, perhaps ten   
   years old, certainly no older than twelve. She had brown   
   hair, was a bit on the slender side, but clearly destined to   
   fill out quite adequately as she grew. Rather ordinary   
   looking, most might say, though perfectly attractive.   
   Although Founder's Day was a school holiday, she was dressed   
   in the school uniform of the time -- short pleated skirt,   
   reaching down no further than mid-thigh according to this   
   year's fashion, white blouse and black tie. The standard   
   black patent leather school shoes, buffed shiny and with a   
   bit of a heel to raise the buttocks, graced her white   
   stocking feet.   
      
         And then the girl herself turned to look at me. Big,   
   brown, deep eyes gazed out at me from a special private   
   world -- a hungry world, a world of void and longing,   
   yearning for both release and extinction at one and the same   
   time.   
      
         My cock throbbed -- a Chosen female, like none I'd ever   
   encountered.   
      
         It was not her age that made her so unusual, though   
   females were in fact rarely Chosen before age 14 or 15.   
   Within living memory there had been a number of cases of   
   Chose pre-teen girls -- one as young as nine (although that   
   was nearly twenty years ago, when I was a young teenager   
   just beginning to experience the Spark).   
      
         This girl has been passed over last year. But  in the   
   three hundred and sixty four days since the last Founder's   
   Day, she had come mysteriously into her own, and now   
   unknowingly announced herself to whomever could feel the   
   Spark. Barney, fortunately for me, was one of those minority   
   of males who never felt it, and so had noted nothing special   
   about the girl.   
      
         The mothers of course never knew when or even if their   
   daughters would be Chosen, since being females they never   
   felt the Spark. Some rare females were links in a long chain   
   of Chosen females, and could count on one of their daughters   
   being Chosen, as they and their mothers had been, but   
   heredity played only a small role most of the time.   
      
         I saw a twinge of flight in this mother's face, but she   
   stood where she was. Even managed a smile at me. Every   
   mother, in the moment when her daughter was Chosen, felt the   
   impulse to snatch their girls away and flee, but in most   
   cases they felt bound to their duty, and rarely had to be   
   hunted down.   
      
         I approached the girl.   
      
         "Hi, darling," I said to her, "how are you?"   
      
         "Fine," the girl responded, her deep eyes pulling me   
   in.   
      
         "She's beautiful," I said to the mother, stroking the   
   girl's long hair. "What's her name?"   
      
         "Laura," she said in a shaky voice.   
      
         Laura was just under five feet . I ran my hand over her   
   face, down her arm and across her back.   
      
         "Is she..." the mom asked.   
      
         "Oh, yes," I said, my own voice trembling with   
   excitement. This girl had a powerful presence, but one she   
   hadn't even discovered for herself. I felt it though. My   
   cock felt it too, knocking against the tightened fabric of   
   my pants. The mom saw the bulge, and knew that her daughter   
   would soon belong to the village.   
      
         I ran my hand down felt her sweet buttocks. She herself   
   began to tremble at my touch.   
      
         "Mommy..." she pleaded, a bit afraid.   
      
         "It's alright, darling," the mom comforted her.   
   "Remember what we talked about, the special honor that comes   
   to some girls?"   
      
         "Yes, I do, but..."   
      
         The mom leaned down and kissed her girl on the cheek --   
   a goodbye kiss.   
      
         I slipped my hand under the girl's skirt and felt the   
   smooth soft fabric of her panties, stretched as tight over   
   her ass cheeks as my pants over my cock. My finger pushed   
   down her butt cleavage and between her legs onto that lovely   
   bulging but hidden mound.   
      
         I could tell the mom would cooperate, whatever her own   
   private feelings. I would remember to mention that in my   
   report.   
      
         I knelt down in front of the girl, so as not to   
   frighten her unnecessarily -- and to get a good look at her.   
   I ran my hands up the girls legs, from her calves to her   
   knees, to her thighs -- and up to her panties.   
      
         "Can you help me?" I asked the mom.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
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