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Message-ID: <30456asstr$990810602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Pedro Vila" <pedro_vila@justreading.words>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 25 May 2001 05:29:44 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} Sam Ped in "The Wrong Food Group"pt1 (noir, nosex)
Date: Fri, 25 May 2001 13:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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This story is a work of fiction.


Warning: Sam Ped is a pedophile.



______________________________



       Sam Ped in "The Wrong Food Group."       by Pedro Vila.
       With permission from Pedro Vila to use Pedro Vila's character.



  "What are you doing here? My father could call the cops on you." She said.
   Her eyes blazed. Focused onto mine. The had the color of the deep end of
a hotel swimming pool and I needed a life preserver. Missy looked back into
the house nervously from the front door she was behind, and I was still
stuck on the outside of it from her.
   "Yeah, I know." I said back. "I just had to have one more look at you.
Then I'll go." I went nowhere.
   "Sam." Missy said softening. "You know we can't do this. We can never
have a future together. You have to go now."
   "What makes you think I came to talk you into anything?" I acted casual.
Missy gave me the look that saw right through me. I was caught. Of all the
girls I've ever known, I have to fall for the one that can read me like an
X-Ray. "Yeah, okay. You can't blame a guy for trying."
   I stepped Back and before I turned to walk away, I could see that door
shut behind her eyes and I knew it was locking in the part that wanted me to
take her away. I could have turned and done just that but Missy would have
stopped me no matter what was inside. She was strong like that.
   I didn't turn around when the door shut. I just kept walking away.
   I was going to be lousy company for awhile.

   My office smelled. It smelled of bad liquor and misery. It jumped me like
a mugger and left me to lay hurting. No cases. No money. Nothing to take my
mind off the stinking world. Just a hole in my gut where something used to
beat.
   I should have been happy for her. I did what I had to do to make her life
better. I knew what I was doing. I mean, What chance could we have had?
Where could we even go? We were two different people from the wrong sides of
the calender. I knew it was the right thing to do, staying away. It just
wasn't pleasent.
   I don't know how long I slept. It was long enough to make me hurt worse.
I hadn't bothered to lock the door and woke to what I thought was a hobo
camping out in my only other chair. I sat upright and looked him over. He
sat up when he saw me move and looked ready to talk to me.
   I wasn't ready though. That didn't stop him.
   "Mr.?" He asked. "Mr. Ped sir? I din wanna wake ya. It's awright that I
waited, right?"
   He looked too inbred to be related to Jed Clampet. He might have been
hiding a banjo behind him. Who ever he was, he didn't look like he had a
cent on him. I decided to give him my detective speech.
   "What do you want?" I asked.
   "Well, uh, you see, uh, it's ma daughter." He stammered. I perked at the
mention of daughter. "Ya see, uh, she uh, she done disappeared. Ya see?"
   The information just was pouring out of him. "So?" I said.
   "Well uh, well you see, I don't have anywhere ta turn. She been gone fur
a week now, uh, an we's gettin pretty worried. Ya see?"
   I hit him with the hard stuff. "You got any money?"
   "Well, uh, no. Can't say as I do right now. But we'd work off every penny
till we paid ya." He didn't stop long enough for me to get rid of him, but
put a picture on the desk as he started to tell me about his child being
gone. He said nothing important about where she was last seen or what she
was wearing or what color her panties might have been. I tuned him out and
looked over the photo.
   Her name was Esther and she looked about as inbred as her father. Except
on a seven year old it looked more appealing. Kind of like a twist on the
farmers daughter thing. I imagined her being married to her older brother
already and felt a lower part of my body waiting to buy tickets to that
show. I closed the theater and cut off Mr. Deliverence.
   "Hey, buddy. I know it's hard but I need cash up front to grease the
wheels. I don't have a bill to my name and information costs money." I could
see his face start to break and knew what was coming. "Tell you what. I can
make a few calls and ask where it's free to ask. Who knows. Maybe you might
get lucky. But don't get your hopes up. It's a big city." The last part was
for him. I guess I felt for him a little.
   I know what it's like to lose a little girl you love.
   I did make those calls and even called a favor but I came up empty
handed.

   It was a month later that I started to see a pattern in the
dissappearence of little girls and thought of the inbred guy from before.
   It happened every week like clockwork. A professional job. No witnesses.
No deaths. No specific area. But in every case it was a little girl of about
7-9. Mostly white and not to well connected to society. I started to get
concerned then. This could really stir up trouble for people as the law
started to get desperate to stop the kidnappings.
   They had no leads either. No ransom notes. No motives. I checked through
a few sources and found no increase in child porn or slave trades in and out
of town. That many girls taken would have showed up somewhere to the right
people, but the whole underground community was just as confused as I was.
They were expecting the girls to show up somewhere too and were disappointed
at seeing nothing new to trade.
   It was a big city, but we were a small community.
   When the first skulls were finally found, we all started to get angry.
Some of us because we didn't want to see children hurt or at least dead.
Others because they felt cheated out of sharing what must have been an
ultimate fantasy for them. Either way, the result was the same. We united.
   If this didn't stop soon, we would all be rounded up and shot by
fanatics.
   I started to spend clout with a few police officers hoping I could help.
I didn't feel very welcome there, but they didn't turn me away either.
Because of this, I was able to gather a little profile of details of the
kidnappings and bones found.
   I felt a hole in my gut larger then the one Missy left when I found human
teeth marks on one of the bones. Word wasn't out on it, but somebody was
eating little girls. And not the good way either.

   The police have the best crime labs for this sort of thing so it was dumb
luck that I stumbled on a kidnapping and was able to stop it. I got a good
look at one of the guys and a rough shape of the other two. He looked like a
cross between a Samoan and a Neandrathal.
   The police grudgingly called me a hero for about a minute and then I
spent over thirty six hours trying to describe in as many different ways as
I could what happened in that thirty seconds of kidnapping. In the end, they
were frustrated at how little I had and started to think I was in on it. I
clammed up then and they let me go when they couldn't charge me with
anything.
   No good deed goes unpunished.

   The police had questioned every kidnapped childs parents except one. That
was the country type from my office. Turns out his name was Hank McGill. His
wife Hillery and their missing daughter Esther McGill. She didn't have any
brothers. I showed them the police sketch of the man I saw. Hank looked lost
in thought and answered, "Yep. I remember them types a few months ago.
Strange people. Didn't talk very well." This coming from Hank might have
meant they couldn't talk at all. Hanks eyes went wide and he stuttered, "You
don think them ones had sometin to do with Esther, do ya?" This guy was
right on top of things.
   The McGills didn't have much else except to say there were five of them
and they all looked like the drawing. They could have been a tribe of some
kind. Maybe got into the country and were just carrying on a tradition from
their homeland. Yeah, sure. A lot of cultures eat their young.
   I went with them being from another place and checked everywhere
immigrants might have lived, worked, and submitted evidence of themselves.
There was nothing though. Nobody had seen anybody looking like these
tribesmen.
   I went back to patrolling likely spots for kidnappings and bid my time.
   I would get lucky again. But I'd wish I hadn't.

_______________
end of part one

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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