Videos with sound:
Normal Version: https://www.dropbox.com/s/i0ytzjw4otz9gq2/Picture%20Day.avi?dl=0
Clean Version (100% less scatology): https://www.dropbox.com/s/37rsew8hf8uq5uf/Picture%20Day%20%28Clean%29.avi?dl=0
At around noon, a jumbled line of 3rd graders could be seen plodding down the central hallway of Upshot Elementary. The hall was a carpeted killzone of dropped lunchboxes, forgotten backpacks, and the occasional chewed up pencil. Upshot Elementary had only one janitor, and he’d called in sick.
The mess tripped a few of the shuffling kids – specifically those preoccupied with assorted picture day activities, like picking at starchy collars, smoothing frilly dresses, and pawing at tufty hair. Perhaps the least fussy of them was a girl ambling quietly near the tail end of the line. Her name was something like Chloe Cook, but there were four other Chloes in her class, so officially she was just called CC.
The first thing to notice about CC was her hair. It was long, blonde, and so silky one could just about see one’s reflection in it. Frighteningly good genetics were to thank for this, although the fact that she used her mom’s shampoo that morning probably helped.
The second thing to notice about CC was her clothes. A plain dress shirt (which might be called a blouse, but only because it was on a girl) clung snugly to her 2x4 figure, and tucked into a knee-length skirt whose pleated folds rustled gently as she lollygagged with the best of them. Standard-issue dress shoes hugged her shuffling feet a little too tightly, as did the black socks which rested halfway up her milky calves.
The very last thing to notice about CC was the fact that she’d spaced out, during which time the line had run down to a stub. The second to last student was presently being ushered into the art room, which had been converted into a quaint little studio to fill the Upshot Elementary yearbook with 200 awkwardly smiling faces. CC had painted a flower on hers. It was actually just five blobs of colored finger paint, but she thought it was pretty.
The student came out a moment later. He looked relieved and began to actively dishevel himself on the way back to class. CC would be lying if she said she wasn’t annoyed at being last, but now it was her turn, and a girl like CC is never unhappy to get her picture taken – no matter how long the wait.
“Right this way sweetie.” A modest middle-aged woman beckoned CC to enter.
The door clicked shut behind CC, whose bright blue eyes swiveled to take in the old art room. It really had been stripped bare, even the countertops had been torn out. The only furnishings were a few tripods and a collection of rough black duffle bags, as well as a full mop bucket in the corner.
“Just stand right over there on that red tape, okay?” the woman said, pointing to an otherwise nondescript patch of chilly blue tile with a strip of colored duct tape.
CC wandered over and stood obediently while the woman fiddled with her camera. After a while the little girl began to rock back and forth on her toes in the universal What’s Taking so Long, I Have to use the Toilet
“Um, excuse me,” CC quavered at length, “I gotta go potty.”
And that’s when things got interesting. She saw a shadow move in a hitherto unoccupied corner, and turned to see a man bearing down on her. She recognized that worried, lightly wrinkled face. She’d often seen it doddering through the halls after hours, working the mop and vacuum like a pro. But now he was naked, and his normally gentle face was split into a wicked, hungry smile.
CC let out a panicked whimper and tried to duck out of the way, but it was too late. A pair of rough brown arms clapped around the child and levered her to her knees.
“Hey! Let go!” CC whined, but the janitor was dead-set on his task.
They struggled, young girl kicking and squirming, man wrenching and pressing. While the janitor pinned CC down on icy blue tiles, the photographer lady marched up and yanked the fussing child’s panties off. She tossed the pink and white garment aside and knelt, camera aimed to capture the scene.
“Hurry,” she prompted, then thumbed a button on her camera and added, “I’m recording.”
The janitor responded immediately, lying back and dragging CC around to straddle him. She bucked and twisted like mad, but what could a 9-year-old girl do? She couldn’t hope to break free, all she managed was to wear herself out.
Taking advantage of his victim’s exhaustion, the janitor lined himself up. CC’s girlhood was hovering just above his thick, adult cock. A death grip clamped onto the little girl’s forearms, and with a grunt the janitor yanked her down.
Knives shot up CC’s spine as the man’s erection destroyed her hymen and burrowed deep into her body. She choked, rattled, and had her lungs filled to scream when the trusting started. Her pent-up wail came out as a shuddering moan, which only spurred the janitor to pound faster.
The camera lady shifted her weight to get a better angle, “You hear that? The lil’ kiddie’s moaning, you think she likes being raped?”
The janitor grunted and kept going, face a twitching mask of stifled pain. He was fairly well-endowed, and the slimy vice of a small schoolgirl’s ham wallet was not a good fit. Driven by that discomfort, he doubled his pace.
CC bounced. Her springy blonde hair bounced, her loose blue skirt bounced, even her voice bounced, girlish mewls and pitiful whimpers cracking to the aggressive rhythm of rape.
“Oh my God, look at her go! What a filthy child-whore,” CC heard the camerawoman coo.
At that point, fuzzy blackness began to seep into the edges of the girl’s vision. All she could hear was the sharp swat of skin-on-skin, and her own garbled voice eking out squeals and grunts – which were beginning to sound naughty, even by the camerawoman’s standards.
“Listen! I think our little princess in enjoying herself – let’s end her on a good note,” the woman reached behind her and brandished a razor-sharp machete, but her victim was too preoccupied to notice.
The little girl’s mind was fogging up. Black fog crept further and further into her sight, but a hot, pressurized tingle was building up in her groin – and it wasn’t just the blood. She could feel something alien welling up from those chills, that embarrassment, and even the pain. Forgetting herself, CC started to buck her hips up and down, desperate to release the hot pressure in her underage snatch.
Grinding and slopping her hips in the throes of pre-orgasm, CC didn’t see the blade coming.Schlaak!
Her head went spinning into the air, and the furious, frustrated desire to cum died with her before she hit could the ground. Meanwhile, the little blonde’s body was taken in the spasms of pleasure she never got to feel.
CC’s washboard chest thrust outward as her posture went rigid. Her arms shot out to either side, where they mindlessly flapped up and down, as if trying to take off. Vocal chords that weren’t finished moaning let out a strangled gargle. Shuddering waves shook the inside of her sopping wet cock socket, bringing the janitor to climax.
Hot rolling globs of cum burbled from her ruined pussy and slopped out from under her rumbled skirt. Little bubbles grew and popped in the thick, oozing semen as it slowly spread into a sticky, foul-smelling puddle.
Another gout of the putrid white fluid escaped when CC’s spurting corpse slumped back, it’s silly-looking death throes apparently over. The janitor gave the camerawoman a questioning look, to which she nodded. He then drew his hand back and delivered a good hard smack to the child’s shivering body.
The reaction was instant. With a series of violent jerks, CC’s cadaver rose twitching to its feet. Her truncated neck spat a few blistering ropes of blood with a sound like spfft spffrt
, while her hands flailed at the spot her head had been, fingers locked in a claw-like rictus.
The 9-year-old’s arching, shuddering spasm only lasted a split second. Her thighs jiggled and gave out, dropping the dead body back into the puddle of cum it’d just milked.
The janitor had a great view of her neck anatomy as another belated moan, or perhaps a latent death scream gurgled from her bloody, exposed voice box. A little tremor shook the prepubescent girl’s pelvis, and then – not to put too fine a point on it – she farted.
“Aww, isn’t that precious,” the camerawoman mocked, then scuttled off to fetch the mop.
The janitor rolled CC’s soaked, still-twitching body into a vacant rubber-lined duffle bag and zipped it up for the journey home, where it would be put to good and thorough use.