Strolling for Babes
mc; gg; Mg; Mdom; oral; inc
The man pushed the baby stroller through the east hallway, past several of the hip teen stores until he reached his destination. In the deserted anchor store, the mall had reclaimed the footage with a multi-cultural food court. Asian, European, and American cuisine tempted the shoppers. Though none would get close to a five star rating from a food critic, it smelled palatable while providing some nourishment to busy shoppers.
The man wore an old faded blue cap, stained with mud, along with dark glasses. His clothes bore no telltale marks, making him inconspicuous. Just the way he liked it.
A dozen booths allowed shoppers to order and wait for their food, providing rock hard plastic seats and rocking tables to eat on. Most chose seating under the two-story high skylight, while a few cowered under the darker overhangs.
The man selected one of those remote tables, buried next to a pillar and in front of a vacant booth covered over with a Coming Soon poster. He faced sideways, not directly toward the main tables, but with enough visibility that any approaching steps would not surprise him. He positioned the stroller next to the table to keep eye contact with the baby. There he waited, his location staked out.
Time passed slowly. A swarm of strollers invaded the Food Court around noon. Young mothers wheeled their smallest while a toddler or two clung to the buggy. He barely gave a glance in their direction. Not his type. No sense expending any energy.
A few mother-daughter pairs joined the others. Being near the emergency room produced those hobbling on crutches or sporting slings for their arms. He had no need for damaged goods. Not today, at least. Perhaps in the future when they had healed. For now, he looked, but didn't bother to cast his line out.
As the lunch crowd thinned out, he began gently rocking the carriage. Stay asleep for just a little while longer, he thought.
Two mall workers wandered by his location, one to wipe down the forgotten tables and the other to empty the seldom used trash receptacles. Neither gave him as much as a sniff.
One o'clock arrived, and his pulse picked up a few beats. He had studied the parochial calendar and knew Santa Margarita's School for Girls had only a half day in session. The floodgates were about to open with dozens and dozens of preteen females arriving, ready to waste the rest of their day off. The hook was baited.
Cautiously, he observed the girls break off into their cliques. Few older girls came, most having access to cars, and few younger kids appeared, most whisked off by overprotective mothers. That left the middle graders, much to his delight.
All of the new arrivals wore their school uniform: a tight powder blue short sleeve knit polo with a matching blue tartan woolen skirt and long white knee socks. None needed the blue sweater. Spring was the perfect season for fishing.
Still, no one had paid him any attention. He smiled slightly, loving when a plan actually works. The next step took a bit of luck and a lot of skill to pull off just right. He shook the baby carriage. Not hard, just enough to startle the occupant.
Right on cue, the baby wailed. Loud. Loud enough to drown out the conversations in the seating area. He smiled again as every head turned toward the crying. The bait was set.
He picked up the fussing bundle while observing the heads swivel back to their respective companions. Not discouraged, he held the child in his arms, turning slightly to show the tiny noisemaker off.
A few seconds later, two students rose from their table and approached the out of the way location. A redhead and a sandy blonde, their hair done up in ponytails, sauntered toward him.
"Is everything all right?" asked the ginger.
"Yeah," said the man. "Just a bad dream or something. He'll be fine in a minute."
"Maybe he's wet," said the other girl. "My little brother cries like that when he wants to be changed."
"Oh, you care for your little brother?"
"Sometimes," she said shyly. "I'm only eleven so I can't babysit him by myself yet. But if Moira comes over, we're OK. Mom thinks twelve is the magic age of becoming responsible."
He turned to the first girl. Pretty face, loaded with freckles. Her polo covered a little development in her breasts. Perfect "What a pretty name you have."
"Thanks," she said, the smile displaying the shiny braces hiding inside. "I'm named for my grandmother from Ireland." She focused on the baby as she changed the subject. "Maybe he needs to be fed."
"I hadn't thought of that," he said. "Maybe I'm not a good big brother after all."
"Oh, he's not yours," said Moira.
"No, he's my sister's little boy. Jack." Then he added, "My name's John."
"Well, you know mine. This is Grace, though you wouldn't know it by her clumsiness."
"Gee, thanks Moira," she said giving her friend a playful punch on the arm. "John, may I hold him?"
"Ah, sure." He handed the baby to the younger girl. Instead of freckles, she displayed the cutest dimples. However, her chest proved devoid of signs of impending adolescence.
After a few moments in Grace's arms, Jack settled down. "Just like my little brother," whispered the girl.
"I could never have quieted him down like that," said John.
"How were you comforting him?" asked Moira.
John reached into the stroller and pulled out a small music player. "My sister gave me this machine. Want to listen?"
Both girls nodded. He plugged a set of ear buds in and gave one to each girl. After they stuffed them into their ear, he turned the volume on. With a deft finger, he switched from the soothing music to a special track.
With the girls listening, their smiles froze and their eyes began glazing over. He anticipated the change. Now, they became suggestible and in a few minutes the effect would become a permanent part of their unconscious mind. The hook was set. Now to reel them in.
Little Jack began to fuss in Grace's arms. "He definitely needs a diaper change," she said, crinkling her nose.
"You want to help me, don't you?" said John. His voice had become more commanding.
"Yes," said the girls in unison.
"Give me the baby, and then find somewhere we can be alone."
With Jack safely in the carriage, the four of them trouped off to the family restroom. The girls pushed the buggy with John at the tail. As they went inside, John pulled a sign from his jacket pocket and put in on the door. It read, "Do Not Use. Out Of Order." With that in place, he locked the door.
"Go ahead and change him," said John. While they folded down the changing table and pulled the supplies out of the diaper bag, he pulled out his cell phone. He was going to save this memory forever.
"I thought you said he was a boy," said Moira as she opened the diaper. "That's a pussy, not a pee pee."
John hadn't thought about gender when he snatched the baby. The mother had called it Cody, and he assumed it was a boy. It mattered little as the mother had forgotten she ever had a baby.
"You are mistaken," the man said. "See, he is shooting out at you like a boy, all over your shirts."
Both girls screamed and jumped back from the invisible fountain. "Eww," they said, trying to wipe the non-existent liquid off.
"You need to remove your shirts and wash them in the sink before the pee sets in."
Both girls did as he said, exposing their tops to the man. Neither showed any modesty, their only concern for the unstained shirts. John smiled at the sight of Moira's small mounds and wished Grace had been just a little older. That's the fate of fishing. Sometimes they're too small, and you have to throw them back.
"Moira, he peed on your skirt also. Take it off and let it dry."
She shed her unscathed skirt, leaving her only in her white knee socks and powder blue panties.
"Grace, finish diapering, and put Jack in the buggy."
While she did that, John shot more pictures of Moira with his phone. She had an ideal body for what he had in mind.
With a happy Jack safely out of the way, he said, "Grace, check Moira's panties for pee. Taste her pussy to verify it's not Jack's."
The younger girl knelt down in front of her friend and began the examination. "Moira, lower your panties to help her." With the girls diverted, he switched over to video.
Grace tackled her task much like she had licked Moira's nether regions before. She found the elusive clit easily and knew just how to stimulate it. Every reaction from Moira encouraged her younger friend and brought the redhead closer to climax.
When she got close, John said, "Enough. Grace, take my cock out and encourage it also."
Moira grabbed the changing table behind her back, almost as though she was literally on the side of a cliff, ready to plummet. On the other hand, Grace matter-of-factly unbuttoned his pants and freed his erection. Sliding the pants and shorts down, the man too was bottomless. Grace began her task, quickly bringing his member to full attention.
"Grace, mind the baby while I take care of Moira."
While Grace rose, he tried to figure out his next move. John had never taken a girl except on a bed. The floor of a restroom seemed to be unsanitary and turned him off.
"Ha," giggled Moira. "You're not as big as my dad."
"What did you say?"
"You're not…"
John didn't let her finish, not because he felt insulted, but in his mind her comment solved his dilemma. She had more experience than he anticipated. Probably. He would work off that assumption.
"Grace, film us with my phone."
"All right."
"And play with your pussy while we do this."
"All right."
"Moira, turn around and hold onto the table. Now spread your legs while you bend forward."
The redhead did as he commanded. Lining up her slit, John started to push into her body. No cherry, as he suspected. For once he didn't care his lover wasn't a virgin. She might be tight, but John didn't have to be gentle. No first time pain either as he bottomed out. She was already broken in. Thank you, Daddy.
He began pounding into her, his hands anchored on her slim hips. Grace's preparation had both of them so close that they came quickly. Her muscles clenched tighter than any girl he'd ever had. Perhaps virgins could be improved on.
John looked over at his cameraman. With all her jerking around, John doubted the phone had any usable images. At this point he didn't care.
As the man gathered strength for his second course, Grace's phone beeped. "It's Mom," she said, reading the text. "She's ready to pick us up."
John looked at the two preteens, realizing everything was about to end prematurely. "Get dressed," he said. They pulled on their skirts and soaking wet shirts. He pocketed their panties as souvenirs.
"Count to a hundred and wheel the carriage out of the restroom. Put it in the elevator and go to the ground level. When you get out, leave the buggy in the elevator and send it to the top level. Then go home. Forget everything that happened this afternoon. Understand?"
The girls nodded and began counting.
John slipped out of the door and headed toward the west corridor. Along the way he ditched his hat and glasses in separate trash barrels. He locked his phone, just in case he got stopped. By the time John reached his car, he hadn't heard any sirens. Taking one deep breath, he realized he had hooked his trophy.
As John drove away, he thought about the day. "I owe it all to Jack. He had made it all happen."
Fourteen months later, Moira pushed a baby carriage down the block toward her best friend's house. She and Grace had grown closer in the past year. Their teachers had attempted to separate them, but to no avail.
Being a mother at thirteen was a challenge for the red-haired girl. While her own parents broke up and separated, she had prospered at school. Studying for two, she called it. And she had a little help from a machine she found. It programmed every fact into her subconscious.
While she waited at Grace's front door, a man strolled up the walkway. He looked eerily familiar.
Grace opened the door just as the man reached the bottom step. "Hello," he said. "Moira, you have grown. As have you, Grace. May I come in?"
"What do you want?" asked Moira.
"I could ask for my machine back. I don't know how I forgot it. But no. I just want to complete what I started at the mall." He looked at the younger girl who had began to blossom.
"I've waited for you," Grace said. "I wouldn't let any boy take my virginity, no matter how much I needed sex."
The man smiled. The machine continued to perform its prime directive. "And what about you, Moira?"
"Only with my best friend, never with a boy, not even Daddy since that day. We have our slumber parties and we love it when my little Jack watches." She blushed a deep red, almost washing out her freckles. "I should thank you for my present. By the way, he'd like a little sister Jill to play with."
The man smiled. "I'll see what I can do."
