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By WintermuteX

wintermutex.stories@gmail.com

https://www.asstr.org/~Wintermutex/


Tags:
Mggg, ped, preg


Content:
Young Girls, Group Sex, Pedophilia, Pregnancy


I was sitting in my chair, staring wistfully at the picture on my phone when John waltzed into my office.


"Adam!" He called to me with his big grin, jovial as always. The greasy mechanic represented the sort of person I rarely made friends with - a backwards-hat wearing 20-something bachelor unencumbered by intelligence, who thought that brashness was the same thing as confidence, and that snark could pass for wit. His coveralls were disgusting as always, and his long black hair dangled in oily curls. Still, John had grown on me a fair bit since I started working at the dealership. There was something about his easy affability and dogged persistence that made him good company, and - I had to admit - a major hit with the ladies. I wondered if there were any secretaries left at our workplace that he hadn't banged yet.


"You still schmoozing over that dumb bitch?" he sneered, seeing the picture I was looking at: my ex, looking beautiful in a field of flowers in her favorite summer dress. I still remembered that day. The weather had been beautiful and the breeze had whipped at her long blond hair. We had driven out for a picnic to get away from the stresses at home. Theresa had seemed to enjoy herself, but I think even then I could see the cracks beginning to form in our relationship as things came between us. She had dumped me not long after.


"Man you need to FORGET her," John said, his butt thumping on my desk as he leaned slovenly against it. "Go out and get some drinks. Mix it up. Get laid again Adam. Don't waste your time worrying about that psycho."


"She's not a psycho and she's not a bitch," I sighed, putting my phone away. John's advice was rarely welcome and never nuanced. The only thing he knew about Theresa was that she had come to my work once and made something of a scene, so maybe he was justified in thinking of her that way.


"Fine fine." John made dismissive motions with his hands. "She's an angel. A saint. Mother Fucking Theresa and a cunt just as dusty and tight, I'll bet. Look, Adam, I'll tell you this about women: they're ALL bitches, and they're ALL whores. And crazy. Every one of them. It's just a matter of how wound up they are with denying it. You just say what they want to hear, and they drop their panties and discover how much of a whore they are inside. Works every time."


John was moving his pelvis as he leaned against my desk, making humping motions with his hands and grinning at me.


"Sage words from the office Cassanova," I muttered, leaning back in my chair. "What did I do to deserve this?"


"I could hook you up with that sweet little thing at the front desk. What's-her-name...the one with the big tits who always wears that blue shirt with the ruffles."

"Sharon. Wait...I thought YOU were seeing her."

John shrugged at me. "For a little while, sure. She's a wild thing. Crazy, like I told you."


"No thanks." I sighed again and looked at the floor. I didn't want a rebound. I didn't want someone else to fill the gap. I just wanted Theresa back.


"Well how about we go to the strip club again? You'll feel better with some tits in your face Adam, I'm telling you."


John clutched his hands in the air and made a motorboating motion, complete with sound effects, then laughed at his own joke. I must have looked morose, because he finally fixed me with a frown.


"Ok, look. I used to be like you, Adam. All wound up and pining after one snotty little bitch that didn't want me. Forget about her. I know it's hard but I have just the thing that will help." He reached into the back pocket of his coveralls and pulled out a faded business card and handed it to me.


"Fantasy Adventures." I read the title out loud, my voice sounding dull even to me. "Where all your dreams come true." Ridiculous. The logo was a pair of cartoon palm trees bracketing an island. Adam tapped the card and I flipped it.


"Specializing in providing premium experiences tailored to a wide variety of tastes for our male clientele," I read. "Custom travel packages available."


"That's how I got out of the dumps," John said. "You need to call these guys. I went on one of their cruises and...well, I had the time of my life." He winked grotesquely at me and made those humping motions with his hands again. "They can set you up with whatever you want. You need to get back in the saddle. Find someone beautiful. Someone nice and young. Innocent. Primo." He touched his hand to his lips and blew a kissing motion like a French chef.


"I don't know..." I murmured. The card was awfully vague, and it didn't look like much, but then again it had been sitting in John's pocket and resting against his ass for god knew how long. A few faded silhouettes formed the background under the text on the back of the card - girls, suspiciously youthful, in a variety of enticing poses.


John tapped my phone. "Call them," he ordered me. "Tonight. You haven't even taken a vacation since you started here. You've got time saved up. Let me guess: you're already thinking about driving over to that lame cunt's house tonight and begging her to give you another chance, right? Don't do that. Call these guys and go enjoy yourself."


John was a crass son of a bitch, but surprisingly prescient sometimes. I tried not to let on that that was exactly what I had been thinking, and stared at the card instead.


"Fine," I sighed again. John whooped and clapped me on the back, almost sending me tumbling off the rolling chair.


"You won't regret it," he chuckled. "These guys really do make dreams come true. Whatever you want, they've got it. Anything" His grin deepened into a leer. "Anything."


"Fine, fine. They just better be on the up-and-up," I said. Theresa had never wanted to travel anywhere. She was always afraid of ending up being mugged or kidnapped in some other country where she didn't speak the language.


"Trust me." John gave me his best grin - a greasy smirk that nobody in 1000 years should ever trust. "Now, have you seen my copy of Motors Monthly? It's the one with the chick with the big tits on the cover."


"That's all of them," I protested. John pawed at the drawers on my desk, yanking them open one by one like he owned the place.


"I know I left it in here," he said. "I was reading it when that little cunt that always makes the coffee came in. Hmm, she's a pretty little thing."

"John, she's like 16. Isn't her dad your boss?"

He shrugged, a knowing smirk slowly building again. John liked to hang out in my office when I wasn't around, even sleep on the couch in here. I pretended to mind even though I really didn't.


"I don't worry about stuff like that," he said. "But I was definitely in here when I had it last. By the way, if you find some stains on the couch cushions, just like, flip them over or something. We may have had a bit too much fun."

"Get the fuck out of my office John," I said.

John smirked at me a final time and gave me a mock salute, knowing that I was just giving him shit. "Call them," he told me, tapping the card in my hand a final time before turning to leave. "You won't regret it."


I watched him go, the almost palpable aura of grime following him like a cloud, then looked down at the card again. A phone number was printed on the lower left, calling out to me.


Fuck it. He was probably right. A vacation would do me some good. Maybe it was just the thing I needed. Forget about work, forget about Theresa. Just have a good time for once.

With one last sigh, I picked up my phone and dialed.

I took a break from gaping at the lavish surroundings to stare slack-jawed at the buxom receptionist. She may have been the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and her top just barely verged on being sheer enough to see her nipples. She was definitely not wearing a bra, and I found myself approving wholeheartedly. It would have been a crime to constrain those beauties.

With an effort, I forced my mouth to close.

"I uh...I have a...a 10:30 appointment," I said weakly.


"Of course sir." She got up and came around the desk to lean politely on my arm. "Mr. Sherman, is it? Right this way sir."


Her breasts brushed my arm just slightly as she led me down a short hallway to an oak-panelled door. The door was immaculately polished, gleaming in the warm light. Fine art framed it on both sides of the hallway. Everything in here was opulent, sophisticated. Wealth screamed from every polished line. If their logo hadn't been on the door I might have thought I had wandered into a high-priced lawyer's office by mistake.


"They're expecting you, Mr. Sherman. Go right on in." The woman practically purred on my arm before opening the door and gesturing me in. I smiled in thanks, and entered what looked like a conference room.


A man in a perfectly tailored suit was sitting in the seat near the door. He rose and greeted me with a warm smile, offering his hand.


"Mr. Sherman! It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Matthew Schaffer. Please, please, have a seat." He released my hand from his crushing grip and gestured for me to sit at the head of the table.


"Now then," he said, taking a seat again himself. "When you made your appointment you indicated you were interested in one of our vacation packages. Is that right?"


"Yes," I said. "Something that's a real getaway. I need a break, a major change of pace. Maybe somewhere in the Caymans. I hear they're very nice at this time of year. Or perhaps Cozumel. I was reading about it online and-"


"Ah - Mr. Sherman," Matthew suddenly interrupted, holding up his hand. "I'm sure you've put a lot of thought into where you want to go already, and those are fine choices. Fantasy Adventures specializes in building custom vacation packages that are tailored for individuals though. Our clients have indicated that they value the spontaneous nature of what we provide, and thanks to our proprietary profiling techniques, we can customize a high-quality experience that caters to your individual tastes, whatever they may be."


"Oh," I said, feeling partially deflated. "Well, what would you suggest for me? What's this profile that you build?"


Matthew rose with a slight smirk and retrieved a plastic box from the table along the wall, then set it on the conference table in front of him. He pulled something out of it, some kind of computer console with a disorganized collection of leads trailing from the end. He placed the device on the table in front of me.


"One challenge in our particular line of business if determining just what exactly an individual such as yourself would truly like. People build up certain expectations of themselves about what they OUGHT to like, but their real desires are often different." He pushed a button on the device and it hummed to life, then he began separating the individual leads.


"Some people will be happy with a trip to Spain. Others may want to hike in the Himalayas. One client that visited us had expressed a strong desire for pearl diving in the Philippines. Everyone is different. Other companies tend to rely on demographics for their suggestions, but we have something much better.


He stuck a white pad to the end of one lead, then reached up to press it against the side of my forehead.


"Whoa!" I said, holding his hand in surprise. "What's this?"


"A new technique, developed by us," he calmly explained. "By monitoring your brain activity and vital signs closely, we can explore what excites you. Lift up your shirt please."


I decided to play along and did so. He stuck two more white pads with leads to my chest and belly.


"With our program," he went on, "we can discover your deepest desires. What truly stimulates you. It's funny, the things we have buried deep inside of us. Strange urges, an insatiable wanderlust, burning desires for erotic intimacy." He attached more leads to my arms. "We're not as far off from our primitive ancestors as we like to think."


He winked at me as he attached what seemed to be the final lead out of dozens. I wondered if I wanted to go through with this. Somehow I didn't think that I wanted my deepest unknown desires to be analyzed by a computer program, but I decided I had come this far. I might as well let them build their little mumbo-jumbo profile. Besides, I had already paid the deposit.


"The process is a bit like dreaming, or at least taps into the same kind of mechanisms in the subconscious." Matthew pulled another item from the box - a helmet of curving metal struts and small metal nubs on the underside, blinking with LEDs. He placed this on my head, carefully adjusting it. I almost laughed. I couldn't help but remember the helmet that Doctor Brown had worn in Back to the Future. I must have looked just as ridiculous. The cold feeling of the smooth metal contacts pressed against my temple in a dozen places


"The machine will monitor your pulse and neural activity." He picked up a remote control and the lights in the room dimmed as a projector screen unfurled on the far wall. "It will help us build a more accurate profile if you leave your thoughts unfocused. The program is built to explore multiple simultaneous avenues of stimulation using free association techniques."


He pressed a button on the machine and it seemed to whir to life. He nodded to himself, apparently satisfied, then stood up.

"You're leaving?" I asked in surprise.

"Performing the test in the presence of others can skew the results," he said, walking toward the door. "We want your mind to be unclouded. I'll be waiting in the next room. Just relax, Mr. Sherman, and I think you'll enjoy what Fantasy Adventures can cook up for you."


He shut the door behind him, leaving me alone in the dark room. An overhead projector snapped on, illuminating the screen with an image of a waterfall. The water was cascading down, frozen in time with the spray glittering like diamonds in the bright sunlight. I wondered where it was. I wouldn't mind vacationing anywhere with such beauty. It looked tropical, but it could have been anywhere. I barely had time to wonder before the image shifted to a new one.


Blinking green and amber lights flickered from the machine in the corner of my vision. The projector was showing an underwater scene, as if taken by a scuba diver. The water was crystal clear, blue, with coral decorating the bottom and schools of fish swarming among the deep green strands of kelp.


The picture shifted again. An animal, something out of the Sahara. Again, and a beautiful, smiling woman locked in laughter peered back at me. The pictures were coming faster now, lasting just a few seconds each. Islands, storms, people, gorgeous scenes of nature
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