The Appointment

On Tuesday morning, Mother and Father each firmly held one of Jilly's hands as they walked and she skipped up the sidewalk to the entryway of the Health and Professional Complex. They rode the elevator to the 3rd floor, then walked down the hall to a cream-colored door with gold trim labelled "Suite 331" and, below that, "The Clinic for Juvenile Modesty Therapy." Inside the door, they checked in with the receptionist, who took them into a private office, asked them a few questions and filled out a few pages of forms for them. Next, they were met by a grandmotherly lady, who seemed friendly enough to Jilly, but who she quickly decided was thoroughly boring. The lady asked Jilly if she would like to go to the playroom, and thinking that this was where the fun would be, she agreed happily. As she left her parents, they were shaking hands with some serious-looking people in suits, so Jilly thought to herself that she had chosen the lesser of the two weebles.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Johnsson," said the older man, who appeared to be in his late 50's, "I am Dr. Thomas, the associate director, and these are my aides, Mr. Sampson and Ms. Avila." All of them shook hands, then Dr. Thomas escorted them into a room where the lights were dimmed. Through a window they could see Jilly and the elderly lady entering the playroom. Next to the full-length one-way mirror was an array of high-definition color monitors, which seemed to be linked to cameras placed in various locations and angles around the room. No matter where Jilly was or what she did, they would be able to get a pretty good look at everything.

"This is a simple evaluation, during which we allow your daughter to play alone long enough to become distracted, and then we will observe her behavior," Dr. Thomas explained. "We will be filming and taking notes, but all of this will be held completely confidential, of course, and are very necessary for the analysis, diagnosis and treatment of your daughter's problem." Mr. and Mrs. Johnsson nodded gravely. Dr. Thomas asked them to sit down, and so they all did, the aides and the doctor each also pulling out a pen and pad. Ms. Avila had some kind of electronic device instead, and each time she spoke the words were recorded on her handheld screen. "April 23rd, patient Jillian Marie Johnsson J-O-H-N-S-S-O-N, age six, case number 03215, evaluation session," she said, with real interest.

The friendly lady told Jilly that she would leave her alone to play for a little while, then closed the door as she walked out. Jilly trotted across the spacious but mostly empty room to the toybox, but found only a few preschool toys that were missing pieces. She wandered a few more steps, before noticing her reflection in one of the many full-length mirrors in the room, directly in front of the adult observers. She danced a bit, she spun around, twirling her skirt, then stopped and thought for a few seconds, before doing a few jumping jacks. "1 minute 25 seconds, Subject has discovered the mirrors, and is engaging in nonspecific reflective play," Ms. Avila observed. The other scientists scrawled a couple of words then were still.

It was not long before Jilly became bored with this, or was tired of standing, and she sat down on the low pile carpet, her legs splayed. As she looked at her reflection, she saw what the grownups could also see clearly, that her skirt had ridden up and exposed her panties. She must have gotten a naughty idea, for a cloud of caution crossed her face, as she first looked both ways and listened for any approaching adult from beyond the closed door, then, concluding that it was safe, proceeded to lift her skirt to her navel, and then to pull aside the crotch of her panty and expose her naked little cunt. Ms. Avila noted, "Two minutes thirty-eight seconds, subject self-examines her genitalia."

Jilly, being an experienced masturbator, of course dived in with three fingers of her free hand and watched herself tickle her clitoris for what would end up being over four straight minutes. "...and self-stimulates," Ms. Avila added.

There was a palpable heaviness in the room, that came with the enormity of what they were watching -- basically, a pornographic performance by a girl barely old enough to attend school. Jilly's mother became visibly upset. "Aren't you going to stop her?" she asked sharply.

Dr. Thomas came over to her, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am," he explained, "we need to observe your daughter without interference before we can begin to help her with her problem."

"I guess maybe you're right," she said, but looked very uncomfortable.

Her husband guided her to turn away from the shocking sight in the window, and in at least two of the monitors, of their little daughter masturbating like a porn star. "Honey," he said gravely, "perhaps you should go wait in the lounge if it upsets you. I will stay and...just oversee, you know, for our daughter's sake. I think a parent should be, uh, present." He guided his wife out of the room, where another assistant met her to take her to the lounge.

Jilly's father sat down again, riveted. He had never considered himself a pedophile, never actually considered doing anything sexual with a little girl. But he did feel a strange, scary tingle in his belly, whenever he was around a baby having a diaper changed, especially if the baby is a girl. He used polite modesty excuses, that a man should not be around for this sort of thing, and his face would turn beet red. But secretly, he was fascinated with little girls' privates, and was deathly afraid that someone would see through him. So he pretended to be very modest and easily embarrassed, which in a sense was also true.

And, as fortune would have it, he was blessed and challenged with having a daughter who is positively obsessed with the earthly organs God chose to put between her legs. Now, seeing his daughter yet again sexually stimulating herself in front of him was causing him to become excited, even aroused. His manhood awoke and became firm, much to his embarassment, even though no one could see over the small stack of paperwork and brochures in his lap. At once horrified and incredibly aroused, he wondered how he could resist doing something sexual with his daughter for very long. Then he pushed the idea out of his mind, for that would be unthinkable. But he had thought it nonetheless.

As he watched, she was licking her finger, and trying to stick it into her vagina. "Six minutes 43 seconds, attempting digital vaginal insertion, aided by saliva as a lubricant," he distantly heard Ms. Avila observe. Jilly seemed to be just examining and exploring this area, and she slowly and methodically slid her index finger in and out of her little pink hole, not like someone fucking themselves, but more as though she were brushing her hair. Then she got bored, but instead of pulling her finger out, she reached in with her left hand and started playing her clit like it was a banjo. This got her going, and while she did this her inserted finger started to wiggle, almost involuntarily. Within about a minute and a half, her tiny mouth was hanging open, panting frantically, as her little ass bounced up and down on the carpet. Her thighs twitched as her fingers worked their magic, and for several seconds she rhythmically clenched her toned belly muscles and made a high-pitched noise like the barking of a small poodle. Finally, as her thundering orgasm ended, she slid her moist fingers out of her pussy, pulled her skirt down to cover it (not even bothering to pull her panty crotch back in place), laid down on the floor, and fell sound asleep with the face of an innocent angel, her fingers interlaced in a prayer-like pose, still slick with her wetness which she wiped onto her nose and lips.

"Orgasm at ten minutes and five seconds, duration...wow, thirteen seconds!" continued Ms. Avila. The two men scribbled madly for several seconds. They briefly reviewed what they had written, then discussed something in quiet undertones that Mr. Johnsson could not hear. Dr. Thomas came over to him.

"Mr. Johnsson," he said confidently, "I think we have enough information to begin making an individual treatment plan."

Mr. Johnsson awoke from his dreamlike state, and from his extreme distraction in trying not to ejaculate in his pants at that very moment. He took a deep breath and relaxed, and upon hearing the doctor's words, he looked hopeful. "So, Doctor, are you saying that you can help my little girl?"

He smiled, tucking his pad into the pocket of his white coat. "Yes, I am sure we can."

A little while later, Dr. Thomas sat in his office with Mr. and Mrs. Johnsson discussing his treatment recommendations. "Your daughter," he began with a smile, "is a healthy and creative girl. She just has some drives that need to be channeled into more socially appropriate channels. For this purpose we have an inpatient program here at the clinic, and in my experience this is the best way to socialize children properly. The program lasts for three weeks, so to many children, it is like going to camp!" Jilly's parents listened and discussed the matter, and in the end agreed to do as the doctor suggested.