Asstr Tod

Asstr Tod

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“Papa!” yelled little Cynthia, running up to me. I dropped the toys I was sorting
and greeted the little four-year-old with open arms. It’s moments like this that make
working with children worth it. “Look Papa!” continued the little girl, taking the rim
of her dress and pulling it up to show her cute little panties, pink with printed
animals.

“Wow! Are you wearing panties already?” I asked, taking the opportunity to caress
her little bottom with a hand.

“Yep, I not wet my pull-pulls two whole days, so Mommy told me I could have
them if I use potty.”

“You really are a big girl now,” I told her, happy for her, but somewhat saddened
that she was growing up. It’s a mixed feeling all too common when working with
children: you love to see them grow up, but then you have to stop seeing them when
they outgrow the daycare. Still, Cynthia had a long way to grow before that, since we
offer services for children up to twelve years old. “Since you are a big girl, I guess you
want to undress on your own?” I asked the little bundle of joy, letting her dress cover
her again.

“Do I has to?” she asked, clearly unhappy.

“I’ll be happy to help as long as you want,” I assured her. I picked her up and,
caressing her little bottom, carried her to one of the changing tables surrounding the
small children’s play area. There, I removed her shoes and socks, pulled her dress
over her head, removed the white shirt she wore, and took a moment to look at her
flat chest and tiny nipples, before lying her down on the table and lifting her legs to
remove her panties.

Her little slit was beautiful: just a line between her legs that managed to hide the
girl’s treasures. I couldn’t help myself, I opened her legs to get a better view of her
crotch. I love how the outer lips are like a mouth, opening to reveal the little hood of
her clit and the inner lips of her pussy, all pink and happy. Unfortunately I
couldn’t do anything else, so I dropped Cynthia’s legs and helped her to her
feet.

“Aren’t you playing with me, Papa?” she asked, a little confused, since I didn’t
play with her pussy like I normally do.

“You’re a big girl now, so you can play other games. Just remember to let an adult
know if you need to use the potty.”

“OK.” was her last response before running into the play area to join the rest of
the naked children.

Most of the day passed quickly: we made sure the children shared the toys,

prevented them from running outside the play area, fed some of the smaller
ones, and changed a few diapers. I love watching the small children play;
about half are completely naked, while the other half still wear diapers or
pull-ups.

“Papa?” came a small voice at my side, “I did wee-wee.” The owner of the voice
was little Maurice, one of the few four-year-olds that still wore full on diapers, and
not only pull-ups.

I smiled at her and carried her to one of the changing tables. “Not to worry,
I’ll get you back to your game in no time,” I told her as I lay her on the
table, grabbed a clean diaper and proceeded to reveal her flower. I always
feel like a child on Christmas eve when I’m taking off a little girl’s diaper.
You first remove a side strap, and the corresponding part of the diaper falls
to the table, revealing a little bit of the child’s hip inside. You repeat the
process with the other side and now there is only the central part covering
her. Sometimes you don’t even have to move it, the diaper’s own elasticity
makes it go down on it’s own, revealing the treasure within like a magic
trick.

Her small pussy was completely open from the moment the diaper let me see, and I
would’ve loved to keep it that way, but I had to close her legs in order to lift her
bottom off the table and thoroughly clean her. She had only peed, so the
process was fast and fun, since it allowed me more time to caress her small
pussy.

Finally I put her down on the clean diaper and opened her legs once more,
marveling at her opening flower. I pictured myself sticking my face there, licking her
little clit and giving the small girl an orgasm, but I knew she was way too young for
that. So instead I went for what I really wanted.

“All clean,” I told her, not yet closing the diaper. “But it seems my pee-pee
needs help, can you help me?” I asked, while fishing my cock out of my
pants.

“Do I get cookie?” asked little Maurice. I smiled and agreed. With the promise of a
treat, Maurice readily opened up her mouth, clearly expecting me to plunge my cock
in.

I must admit I was tempted, not all children are eager to perform oral sex, but
clearly some of my coworkers had managed to show little Maurice that it’s not as
yucky as they think. But one look at her still open flower was enough to reject her
offer.

“I want to put my cream in your belly,” I told her, while I caressed her little mons
with my hand.

“My belly? Why, Papa?” asked the small girl.

“Well, if I put my cream inside your belly, and we’re very, very lucky, it could grow
into a new little sister for you to play with,” I explained.

Maurice’s eyes went really big at this, then she looked at her belly and back at me
with some doubt, “Really?”

“Well, we would need to be very, very lucky, but I really want to try, and even if
you don’t get a new sister, you still get your cookie, right?”

“OK,” accepted Maurice with the innocence of childhood.

I didn’t waste any more time. There wasn’t a time limit to change a diaper, but if I
took too long someone might think I was slacking off.

“Now, I need you to help me”, I told the little girl on the changing table, “I need
you to open your legs as wide as you can, and use your hands to open your kitty so
my white pee can go into your belly.”

The little naked girl under me, still lying over the clean diaper, did as instructed,
moving her legs almost all the way to her head, and with her little hands she opened
her tiny pussy, exposing the pink interior and the extremely small entrance to her
vagina.

I took my cock in hand and quickly pressed the tip against that lovely pink
opening. I had no intention of trying to penetrate such small opening, I just wanted
as much of my sperm to go into her undeveloped womb, and perhaps make a miracle
in there.

“White pee?” asked Maurice, moving a little against me. “Are you going wee-wee
in me?”

“Yes,” I managed to say amongst the pleasure of rubbing my glans against a
four-year-old pussy, “I’m going to shoot my white cream inside you and try to
give you a little sister,” I managed to say, before my orgasm washed over
me.

I forced myself not to push against the little girl, just to hold my cock still and
ensure my pee hole was locked against her opening, and then started spurting globs
of cum into that heavenly creature.

From my first shot, a lot of cum spurted outside her little pussy. I like to think I
had already filled her little vagina, but still pressed in a little, hoping some of
my sperm would actually made it past her cervix and into her immature
womb.

“Are you going wee-wee in me?” asked Maurice, jerking her hands away
when they got covered in the spunk that spurted out of her and coated her
crotch.

“Oh yes,” I managed to say as the last spurt left my cock and went to its mission
to make this little girl pregnant.

I took a moment to rejoice in the sight of her little hole dripping my seed, and her
pussy and mons covered in it, but quickly took the diaper and closed it. I didn’t
wanted any more of my cum to drip out of her.

“But I wet again,” said little Maurice with some worry, holding her little
hands up, still covered in my cum, apparently not knowing what to do with
them.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need a change for that. Why don’t you lick my cream off
your hands, tell me how I taste.”

The little girl was doubtful a moment but then inserted her fingers in her mouth
and licked them clean. “Taste good, Papa. But uncle Max is sweeter.” So it was Max
that taught this girl how to give head.

“OK, now go back to your games,” I told her as I put her on the ground
and gave her little diaper-covered ass a pat, “Miss Eli will give you your
cookie.”

I know there’s really no chance of such a small girl getting pregnant, but I love to
try, and who knows, I might succeed one day. My eyes went to little Tiffany,
playing naked in the corner; the three-year-old no longer wears diapers, but
until a month ago, every time I changed her I made a deposit into her cute
little belly, and I love how from the side it looks like she’s really carrying a
baby there. I know it’s just her baby fat, and that in a couple years it’ll be
gone, but I love to fantasize that I really managed to get such young girl
pregnant.

Before getting lost in fantasies, I got my terminal out and quickly edited young
Maurice’s score, adding a note that she had earned an extra cookie. Like most
small children, Maurice spent the points she earned almost immediately, so I
was happy this treat would remind her of the gift she carried inside her
belly.

“So, trying for another, ‘Papa’?”, came the playful comment from Suzy, a fellow
coworker. She had a cute little boy cradled in her arms, blissfully asleep with his lips
around the caretaker’s nipple.

“You know me, I just can’t resist them,” I replied. “When are you going to let one
the children knock you up, so you can start really breastfeeding them, instead of
giving them only pacifiers?”

“Like you would let a child beat you to a fertile womb,” Suzy was a nice lady, I
would even consider asking her out if the rules in the daycare didn’t forbid it, and if
she didn’t already have a boyfriend. I think it was she that gave me the nickname
“ Papa ”, that the children all use now.

The weight of the day seemed to fall heavily on to his shoulders the moment he left
the daycare facility. It was a noticeable change, from saying goodbye to his coworkers

with a smile as he prepared to leave, to slowly walking, partially slouched,
almost dragging his feet once he took a step out. His face also reflected
his tiredness, a complete opposite to the carefree demeanor he had while
working.

As was his custom he stopped at a small corner shop before reaching his house.
Sometimes he would just browse without actually getting anything, but today he
took a few items.

“… authorities report that the number of victims might be as high as twenty,” said
the anchor on the TV, “adding that more children are expected to be found. The
perpetrators include teachers, police officers and scout leaders…”

The bust of the pedophile ring was everywhere on the news, and had hit the town
hard, after members of the local school were dragged in handcuffs out the building.
The daycare worker frowned at the TV, shaking his head before going to the
cashier.

“Can you believe some of the children were trying to defend them?” asked the
cashier as he checked the items, “something about Munchausen syndrome—”

“Stockholm syndrome,” corrected the man, “a child cannot understand sexual
advances, they just trust adults. I just can’t believe there are people like
that…”

“You work with children, right? in that playground down the street?” the man just
nodded, his face clearly showing his annoyance with the question, but the cashier
continued, unaware, “have the police gone there?”

“I guess,” he answered, getting his bags, “but I can assure you none of our children
are being abused,” he finished, the edge of his voice clearly reaching the
cashier.

“Chill, man. I’m only saying, a lot of parents were involved, right? so maybe you
could—”

“Look, man , just drop it, OK. I have to deal with enough during work and
listening to the news, I just want to go home and relax, OK?”

“Sorry,” the cashier finally seemed to catch on, “it’s just, I can’t quite believe
it.”

“You and me both, and I don’t want to wonder if a parent is a monster every time
they pick up their child…”

Saying no more he left the store and continued home, the tiredness on his face
more evident as he walked.

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