What is it about the loins of an eleven year old female,
that make her curves the most beautiful shapes possible in the entire universe?
My niece, my sweetheart, my lover,
is eleven, and always will be.
Candy was 17 when I first met her, and is now 22.
And she loves me so much that she will always remain,
my 11 year old niece.
Even as we both grow older.
- Harold Tyler
........
Candy - A Professional Fantasy Provider
At one time they considered my profession embarrassing. Today it is more acceptable being a whore than a lawyer. Everyone knows you provide a service, while after five or six hundred years we still argue whether lawyers as a whole do anything to improve quality of life. Depending on your biases, the good lawyers (those on your side) at best, protect you from the bad lawyers. A prostitute provides his or her clients with pleasure and doesn't hurt anyone else in the process. Today, female pleasure providers out number males about two to one. In times past, whores were often exclusively girls. It doesn't change things much for me. I've only worked with a male partner on a few rare occasions. It's usually just me and one or more clients. My clients are most often males, but not always.
I specialize in pedophile fantasies. Understand that while I may somewhat look like a preteen and act totally like one during a session, I am actually an adult. Like most girls today I got myself deflowered around twelve with a boy my own age. I didn't start charging until I was fifteen and legally old enough to leave the orphanage and obtain a license. For those of you who may be reading this on other continents I'll include some facts about sex laws here in North America. In my great-grandmother's time the states still had control of these laws, which made things confusing. About 2020 I think, the old USA and Canada agreed to establish uniform laws.
They've changed a bit, but at least uniformly. Now, sex is legal between anyone of either sex within three years of age. None of this business about a twelve year old girl getting her eleven year old brother to do the deed and then watching him get sent to jail. I doubt it happened much, but it was stupid and scary having a law like that. The three year rule means an eighteen year old girl can't legally seduce a fourteen year old boy, though I imagine it happens all the time. When you turn fifteen you become legally an adult. You can do it with anyone of either sex older than you or less than three years younger. At any age when a girl is old enough to get pregnant she is allowed the choice of having an abortion, even if someone else wants to pay bond. With the quality, and availability of modern birth control this is rarely needed, but some 12 year olds are too ignorant for their own good. Anyway, you'll be required to have an abortion if no one is willing to pay bond. If somehow you manage to get past six months without being detected, they simply let you have the baby then take it away and, if you're over fifteen, put you in "jail" for a month. Not much reason to take that path cause you'll never see your baby or know what happens to her. My mother probably wasn't even told what sex I was.
I've been a professional now for seven years. (I'm twenty-two for those of you who can't do math). For five years I've been working for an agency and like it much more than freelancing, thank you. The agency gets me into much more interesting situations, pays me better, and mostly, has access to a drug they call "LoVe" (pronounced either low-vee or love). It's got lots of other names and is illegal to use without a license. Like many drugs it can be very addictive. But used properly and always administered carefully by someone other than the user, it can be quite safe. In my case it even saved my life.
I was on hP, and would have soon killed myself, while doing tricks to support my habit. The treatment is simple and involves "LoVe", though the hospitals call it "X-mod". The hospital isn't expensive but the patient has to request the treatment and usually has to pay for it. Many addicts like I was, are not motivated to do so. Phantace "acquired" me in a coma. They have this arrangement. Some times the police drop off attractive ODs there rather than the hospital or morgue. It saves the government money, and if the agency does manage to treat the addict successfully, he or she is always grateful afterwards. They didn't even ask me for compensation. But they did offer me a job and I eagerly accepted. Being off hP was a life changing event and I'd become a cheerful, optimistic person. Phantace likes happy employees.
I've become very popular with the clients, too, and have a fairly large stable of regulars. Large doesn't mean full time, though I'm mostly available at the convenience of the men. Many of my fellow workers have their own digs. In this organization most of us "work" in house about fifteen hours a week, but need to be "on call" about forty. Lauri, my best friend, and another preteen simulator, maintains her own apartment, a clean and cheap, but very small, one room, about two blocks away. She can get to work in three minutes in a pinch. Sometimes she actually sleeps at her apt but mostly just stores some personal things there. The bedrooms the agency provides us for free are bigger and nicer, but have to be kept clean for entertainment when you're on call. Most times, however, I end up using one of the studios. (Pre-sims don't usually perform in a bedroom setting.) Unlike Lauri I feel no need for any symbol of independence. I owe the agency my life. They could keep me as a slave if they wanted and I'd feel like I was still coming out ahead. Even without pay I'd still love what I'm doing.
L-V has three possible dosage level. A is low based on your body weight. Like all pre-sims, I'm on the small side. I'm actually not short at 5-3, but I only weigh 95 pounds. My full A size breasts aren't real big but look large on my tiny chest. I'm usually supposed to be 11, though I have a few clients who like small mature women and allow me to "know" my real age. Most men, however, want me to "be" a pre-teen and our first time together I'm always a virgin who has not yet experienced her first period but has started developing breasts. Sometimes I get "deflowered" 2 or 3 times a day and think each time is my first time. I'm even relieved that it hurts so little. When the "nurse" (he does have a license) doses me, it's always at level A, 2.5 grams for my body weight. At this level I will believe whatever I'm told during the first ten minutes. Memories of my real life and situation will seem like something I've read. The drug wears off naturally in about 24 hours, depending upon when you next sleep. You wake up remembering who you really are without forgetting what happened while under the influence. You can also be restored in about ten minutes with an antidote or have your gullibility reactivated with a third drug. Re-activation is relatively safe and usually used when I have several different clients in the same day.
Some of our trusted clients are allowed to make bond and take me places for twelve or so hours, pretending I'm a niece, taking me to places like the zoo and restaurants and usually home for a little incest and all the time I believe I am related to him in the way described, and madly in love with him if I've been told I was. He knows it's a fiction but neither I nor other people do. Those are the kind of assignments I love most. But the man pays dearly for that much of my time.
Being told you're madly in love with a man is just as good as actually being madly in love with a man. My memories of such "incest" scenarios are so pleasant that I doubt the man paying for the event ever enjoys it nearly as much as I. I can remember thinking I was 11 and madly in love with this man in his thirties and how wonderful it was. And I know I can easily go back there without the drug, even knowing I'm really 22, and still love having sex with the man while acting like I'm eleven and engaged in incest. The memories don't go away. I am allowed to contact a client after I've recovered my real personality, and offer him a discount encore without the drug. Some men like the idea. I'm almost 100% right at guessing which ones.
B level is what they used to rid me of the hP addiction. At B level they can change your personality permanently without destroying your memories. When, under their care, two weeks after I recovered from the coma I awoke into B level dosage. I was told that I was not an hP addict and actually had an unpleasant reaction to it as well as other addictive recreational drugs. I can't even experiment with things like Crack because I "know" I'll get violently sick. They also told me I was basically a happy person. And guess what. They could have told me I was a nympho who needed it every five minutes and that's what I'd have become. Max was my only attendant. No doctor, just the nurse. Telling me I was a "happy" person might have been a legal risk, but he didn't know I wasn't. He just knew that most addicts aren't and need a little help coming off. I love the agency and mostly I love Max as it's personification. I remember well how miserable I really was.
C level will let the agent adjust both your personality and your memories. A few simple commands can destroy you and leave a very innocent person inhabiting your body. But not necessarily a nice person. That depends on the doctor's skills. For a few years now this has been used instead of capital punishment. The argument is that if done carefully it's not as complete a destruction of the personality as execution. And seeing the man walking around being nice to people afterwards can be very convincing. The problem is combating the tendency to use it as a cheap fix for less and less serious crimes. A "C" level dosage actually doesn't have to cause any change. If the person is kept asleep or even in a pleasant non-interactive surrounding for 24 hours, if will still wear off naturally. Levels higher than C, however, simply cause damage, like a lobotomy. There is no reason for it since you can remodel a person in C any way you want.
In five years I've never had a customer who didn't want me drugged the first time he had sex with me. The agencies do have lots of whores of both sex who do that. But I'm physically suited to be a pre-sim and that's always my specialty. Most clients want me to be in love with them, and Max gladly complies while prepping me. He gets queezy when some one wants me to suffer. It's a bad perversion for a pedophile to have, and a signal. In such a case the client is always carefully monitored and a bouncer standing ready, no matter how much she's willing to pay. These sadists are usually women. Max always slips in a suggestion that I'm a masochist so if I do get hurt before the marines arrive, I think I'm enjoying it. Anyway, I don't really know any more what it's like to experience love with someone I'm not in love with already. I think I usually fell in love with my boyfriends and clients before the hP addiction began frying my brains. But I doubt it was anywhere as pleasant as the unconditional pleasure I experience when I'm dosed, or even the pleasure I feel when I'm having an encore with a man I've previously been conditioned to love. Life with LoVe is wonderful!
After I expressed an interest in working for the agency they gave me several days training and then one customer a day for two days. My experiences with these two men were almost identical. They were in their forties, and typical peds, gentle, and almost more interested in pleasing me than having sex with me. But they'd seen me first in the pre-sim mug book. I've looked at it many times, always flipping to the page about myself and then to the ones showing my sister co-workers. Sims are anything but modest , especially females. Whores in general are usually exhibitionists, at least the ones who enjoy what they do, as are most females without induced inhibitions. We like being attractive and displaying the fact. Not wanting to do so is mostly cultural indoctrination. In the book you see me dressed in a school outfit looking very much like an eleven year old. Other than my figure I fit the part perfectly. There are also a number of pictures of me in my birthday suit. When freelancing, I always shaved my crotch and arm pits, as do most girls, even those just giving it away for free to their lovers, or trying to look pretty on a nudist beach. The agency pays for us to have permanent full body hair removal, so I'll always be as naked between my legs as an eight year old. However, the agency doesn't want to hide the fact that when the client gets my clothes off, he will be confronted with a tiny but moderately well developed female. I remember posing for the pictures and enjoying the bend overs and leg spreads much more than getting dressed and posing in the costume. I'd yet to have my first "A" job so I'd never enjoyed the thrill of thinking myself an innocent 11 year old being deflowered by a loving and tender and much older man. The text my first two clients saw included some of my vital statistics:
Candy - age 17, born 12 March 2127
5'3", 95 pounds, 33(A)-21-34,
first deflowering - age 12,
pro - 2 years, novice simulator (30% discount)
The book had removable pages and first time or questionable clients didn't see it with my page included. This particular brothel was quite large, and specialized in only supplying females. The few times since, when I've "performed" with others including males, it's always been by appointment at one of our affiliated agencies. There were typically about three dozen girls on call, and about a third of us would be preteen simulators. So Karl and Larris each picked me out of a choice of about a dozen possible girls. This means they had already seen pictures of my well displayed, naked genitals and anus, and my breasts. The fact they these men chose me meant that they liked my curvaceous "knockers" in spite of the fact that they'd be pretending I was only 11. Karl was told I was a novice, but not that it would be my very first time doing sim. It was actually a set up. The house mother knew Karl from previous visits and was basically choosing him for my first session. Neither Larris nor Karl were overly rich and the house mother knew the 30% discount would be irresistible to a man who was not turned off by my large breasts. The second day, with Larris, was the last time my mug page said anything about a discount. On the third day, she hadn't particularly intended for Harold to choose me. Nor would a discount have meant anything to a man as rich as he is.
When I was brought out to meet Karl I was not yet doused, so while I was dressed and acting like a virgin of 11, I knew I was really 17 and anything but inexperienced. The "coach mother" had suggested I think of myself as an actress playing a role. I did not shake his hand like a 17 year old adult. I curtsied with a slight self-conscious giggle, maybe blushed and acted too nervous to meet his eyes. I enjoyed this acting much better than negotiating a business deal like I'd have been doing a year earlier on the street. My coach had also reassured me that the acting would come naturally after one session. Spending an hour with a client while thinking you're 11 makes your next interview easier. It's easy to imagine yourself a pre-teen when you've actually just been one. I was a little nervous about LoVe because I knew I'd have no awareness of actual reality. There were horror stories about girls letting themselves be mutilated because they believed it was something they liked doing. But no one seemed to have ever heard about any real occurrence of this, and the other girls all assured me that with Max controlling things it was the most wonderful experience possible. And I trusted Max completely. After all, I owed him my life.
When Karl indicated his approval, I was taken to see Max and given the carefully measured dose of LoVe. While he watched, my coach mother carefully explained to me my age, and my relationship to Karl, and a few made up background facts. Most important was the "fact" that I was madly in love with him and enamored with the idea that he might deflower me. Previously that morning, Max had applied some creme to my pussy lips that made them tighten up. It wasn't like having an intact hymen, but it would make it easier for me to think, and Karl to pretend, that I was being deflowered. Of course I no longer gave this or any other conflicting memories much thought. After about five minutes of coaching I was eager to see once more, "my uncle" Karl.
Not having any family I never had specific dreams about incest. My fantasies required the invention of both a father and an event, and yet I still had such daydreams. I think, when you're 8 or 9, you can't imagine having sex with the boys your age and so, invent an older lover. Spending that hour with Karl was much more exciting and pleasurable than I'd ever imagined incest could be. Not only was I getting deflowered, but the man doing it was gentle, experienced and a person I'd loved for years! For me this wasn't an act, and Karl knew it. He was just as considerate as one could want, reveling in my pleasure. Normal sex without LoVe is never this good!
Karl had only paid for an hour of my time and only 70% of that. He was gentle, considerate, and efficient, and had my hymen "ruptured" within fifteen minutes. After cleaning me up, including all the "blood", which I simply accepted without thinking to examine the towel he'd used, he began giving me a heavenly massage, of course, fondling me in all those places we both enjoyed. I was beat, having just lost my virginity, and his hands felt divine. Almost immediately I fell asleep, which apparently pleased him. The guard monitoring the screens told me later that my lover got a second erection touching me in my sleep. I woke up about ten minutes before the end of the hour, frightened. But not of Karl. I was still madly in love with him even though the sleep had cleared my awareness. I knew he wasn't my uncle, but that he was one of the nicest lovers I'd ever had. What frightened me was that I wasn't supposed to revert until much later. I'd have to do real acting, while pretending I wasn't acting! It was then that I discovered how easy it was to get back "into character". Karl never suspected during those last ten minutes that I knew I was 17 and had been fucked, not for the first time but maybe closer to the thousandth! In fact, once back in character, I even felt like an innocent girl who'd just done it for the first time.
Max told me later that I normally wouldn't have reverted after such a short sleep. But because it was my first time he'd used a half dose, 1.25g, because there was little danger from too small a dosage and a terrible one if they accidentally pushed me into the "B" level. This minor problem had given him a very good calibration point. With Larris the next day he used a regular dose and it was again wonderful getting lovingly deflowered! When my "daddy" left, they let me return to my room in bliss and enjoy peacefully my recent introduction to womanhood. Eventually I had supper, went to bed, and woke up knowing who I really was and I now had two new wonderful memories. I get paid to do this!
One of my first clients has become one of my regulars. Harold is rich, even for a Phantace client. He's been married twice. His first wife stayed two years and left with a sizable chunk of cash, but no entitlement. His second wife may have actually loved him. But she died. Now he's in love with me, exclusively. If I asked, he'd marry me. But I love him too much to ask. That's one problem with L-V. If you're told you love someone, after that you really do. And I know Harold's much happier having me when he wants me, instead of all the time. For that matter, I'm happier at Phantace, where I get fucked about ten to twenty times as much as poor Harold could ever manage. Yet it's still not as much as I'd like.
Harold was my third client, and I, his second girl at Phantace. I guess he was shown the usual mug shots of the whores, including the new ones like me. And for some reason he decided I looked like a perfect niece. Not all the ped's are turned on by my normal size breasts, and I can never pretend to be an eight year old. Lauri can. She's almost as tall as me, but almost totally flat chested. Her nipples are a bit larger than a boys, but otherwise, who would know she's twenty? Anyway, for Harold it was love at first sight. For me, it was more like eager interest. I'd been at Phantace about a month, mostly recovering physically. All I could remember was the last week. When I came out of the coma they kept me sedated for two weeks while Max continued using the IV to pump me full of vitamins and calories. At 80 pounds I was almost dead from starvation. It wasn't that I couldn't afford food, but that I'd been forgetting to eat. When Max finally let me wake up I felt wonderful.
As with any first time client, I was brought out to meet Harold without being drugged first. He knew the second they introduced me that he wanted to keep me. For me these initial meetings are slightly difficult. Already trying to get into character I felt my beloved uncle should know who I was! It's easier when they bring me back dosed and prepped. This time I "knew" he'd known me all my life and I was eager to grow up enough to seduce him. Hopefully today would be the day. I so much wanted him to be my first! I could sort of remember an incident a year earlier when I'd turned ten and bought a bikini. I was so proud to show off my budding breasts to my most favorite uncle, and I sort of wowed him. The bikini top was intended to show off my little mounds, yet today at only eleven, they were big enough that if we were at the beach I'd simply go topless like the young women did. Harold had been sad since my aunt had died and I was determined to become the next female in his life.
Under the influence, I could dismiss the inconsistencies just as easily as all the memories of my real life. Because I wished it, the unlikely chance of meeting him here and going with him to a bedroom to spend a few hours didn't bother me at all. I thought I needed to seduce him to get him to have sex with me and he let me do so. He didn't mind the expense and kept me for three hours, enjoying my company for over an hour even before "deflowering" me. Of course while providing him the fantasy, I didn't even know he was paying a lot of money for letting me turn a one hour time slot into a three hour seduction. What excited him, I think, was knowing that I thought I was actually being deflowered. It was an artificial pleasure for me, but still very real. I'd been deflowered once when I was 12, then three time in three days, counting this one, at age 17. This one felt like the only real one, the others just pleasant made up fantasies. Of course, the next day I enjoyed remembering each one vividly, the last three even more fondly then the real time five years earlier. Literature talks about the pain. But getting deflowered can be the nicest thing that ever happens to a girl. And I've now had the pleasure, thanks to LoVe, hundreds of times!
Harold prepped me with his fingers and tongue, treating me like an innocent 11 year old virgin and not the slut he knew I was. It helped that I "knew" I was a virgin and would need this type of attention in order to reduce the coming pain. I know that he enjoyed treating me gently even more than I enjoyed being treated this way. After he ruptured my hymen I was delighted with how little pain and blood there had been. (Little as in none, but I didn't know that.) I became even more madly in love with him, just the way a virgin would have reacted. I love that memory, even now when I know it was artificially induced. Do you dismiss a good cry over a great book just because you know it's fiction? Well L-V in much better than reading a novel! As far as Harold is concerned, he could be my uncle and I love thinking of him as such. Which is another reason I wouldn't want to marry him and try to start thinking of him as my husband. I've since decided that the reason Harold picked me out of the mug book is that he's not really a hardcore pedophile, though he may not know it. What he was really looking for was a young adult woman who was also innocent. But he assumed the fantasy of innocence required a girl of eleven, as it might in the real world! This is why he loves my small, but well developed body. I think this is true of almost all the men who choose me.
After my deflowering I wasn't sore (no surprise) and eagerly responded to any further intimacies he wanted. But Harold is only one man, and I could have taken on a football team, though I hardly realized it. I think we spent most of the time during the last hour with him fondling me, of course, anywhere and everywhere he wanted! I learned, I thought for the first time, how to suck a man, but had to go easy. I always love fallacio but am always surprised to discover this fact. Thirty minutes into that session Harold knew he wanted to take me places, show me around the town as if I really was his niece. But the rules don't allow an external field trip the first time. Harold was trusted and already bonded because the fee was little enough for him so that he put out the deposit as a contingency. But the girl is always allowed to recover her real identity first and decide what she wants. If he had simply walked me out of the building that first time I wouldn't have even known I wasn't his niece, or that I had certain rights. When he called back the next day, I told the management that I was eager to do a field trip, even if I wouldn't know at the time who I really was. So they juggled a few slots and got me free for the next day.
It was a total delight being escorted around the town by my beloved uncle. I knew we were lovers and I wasn't supposed to tell people, so I acted demure. But inside I wanted to brag to the world. Eleven and no longer a virgin! And I had the most wonderful lover in the world! I knew it was illegal because I wasn't fifteen and Harold was more, much more, than three years older than me. Silly law! The age difference made him totally desirable. (I've often wondered if it would have been as much fun if we'd made me fifteen and made it all legal.) Harold, of course, knew I was really 17, but I didn't. I thought the fact that I was 11 made it terribly exciting. The fact that Harold would take the risk just to put his penis inside me totally proved how much he loved me. Two days earlier I'd been deflowered. Today I was hoping I could interest him in Sodomy! I was wondering if it would hurt, while deep down inside I already knew it wouldn't.
A Poem Of Love
by Harold Tyler
What is it about the loins of an eleven year old female,
that make her curves the most beautiful shapes possible in the entire universe?
My niece, my sweetheart, my lover,
is eleven, and always will be.
Candy was 17 when I first met her, and is now 22.
And she loves me so much that she will always remain,
my 11 year old niece.
Even as we both grow older.
