From my desire to delve into a dark debauchery that I probably shouldn’t explore for… various reasons.
Disclaimer: This work contains adult materials including strong language, sexual themes, and extensive discussions about pedophilia. This work contains no sexually explicit content. This work is not suitable for minors. Reader discretion is advised.
Notice: This installment of TSF Series was originally written on 2/12/2020 and has since been re-edited. Typographical errors and grammatical mistakes have been corrected, certain sections have been rewritten, and minor aspects of the story have been altered.
This entry in TSF Series once again takes inspiration from a very obscure place. The 2016 album TOTAL LOLIFICATION created by some fellow by the name of LOLI-LECTRO and distributed by god-tier electronic weeaboo trash peddler The Worst. Over the span of about 4 years of this being a part of my nonsensical idiot music collection, the sample-rich string of sounds and loose narrative of the album perked my interest in writing a story wherein an individual is transformed into a little girl through various means.
This idea was left to ruminate for a while, where it eventually transformed into a story about every human in the world becoming a biologically immortal little girl, but come December of 2019 I decided to throw that entire concept away in favor of something a bit more somber and thoughtful. One that focused less on the whole ‘lolification’ angle and more on plights and troubles of an individual who is sexually attracted to children yet chooses to refrain from indulging in their destructive desires, lest they become a terrible criminal. Also known as a Nomap.
Now, this choice of subject matter puts this story in something of a moral grey area, to the extent that I hesitated even releasing it at first. The subject of children and sexualization is a murky one that I pondered in an essay back in April 2019, and later revisited in Natalie Rambles About 2019. Reading through the two linked articles provided should indicate my thoughts on these issues in great detail, and they are reflected throughout the body of this work.
But to make one thing super clear, I think people who have sex with children are some of the worst people in the world, and they deserve zero sympathies or consideration.
TSF Series #007: Nana and the Nomap
“What the hell am I doing?”
As those words escaped my lips, I sunk my head into my palms, immersing myself in darkness.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I thought to myself, “I shouldn’t be doing this. But I shouldn’t be doing— or I guess feeling— a lot of things. I could always leave. My ass is still planted in my car’s seat and the keys are still in the ignition. All I need to do is rev up the engine, and I could head on home, pull out something for dinner, and move on with my life. I’m not in any true danger after all.”
“But at the same time, nobody ever got anywhere through procrastination. Nothing changes unless you or the world around you initiate such a change. And while I could, in theory, keep going through my life with this baggage stapled to my back, I’ve already made the first step to prying it away. Now all I had to do was take the second, third, and all the rest. I just need to leave my car, go into the community center, find room 222, and… talk. Just talk. Nobody will be recording it, nobody is going to blackmail me, and I have done nothing wrong. I’m an adult now. I’m 29-goldarn-years-old. I can do this.”
After giving myself a much-needed pep talk, I tore my hands away from my face and laid back in my seat, looking at my sun-drenched window as the spring afternoon gave way into the evening. I stared back at my reflection in the sun visor. A faint redness covered my face, partly from exhaustion, partly from worry, and partly from the way I clenched my head while wallowing in my uncertainty. I rubbed my hands over my face once more in an attempt to wipe away the pitiful expression that adorned my visage before sending my fingers through my ruffled hair.
Even after that brief clean up, I didn’t look particularly great. My black hair had a discernible greasiness to it. My facial fuzz had already grown back after a quick shave this morning, with small strands poking out from my brown skin. And my short-sleeved dress shirt had grown disheveled over the past few minutes.
For a moment I thought about bailing considering how… unpresentable I was at the moment, but, upon recognizing that I was fishing for excuses once more, I pulled my keys out of the ignition, stepped out of my car, and looked at the building before me. It was the community center of a town over from where I lived, wedged nicely between my commute to my office job in the city. While I had never stepped foot in the establishment, I recognized it fairly well and honed in on this vague familiarity to drive me onwards, telling myself that entering this building would not only be beneficial regarding the… issues I was having, but that it would satiate a minor curiosity of mine.
Pulling open the doors revealed an unremarkable interior, a building that was clearly a product of the early 80s, but despite its obvious age, it was a relatively clean and well-maintained establishment. With unstained walls, plentiful lighting, and generally unimposing atmosphere. Following various signs up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, down another hallway, and into a nook, I was met with a wooden door with a small vertical window, and a placard reading “Room 222: Conference Room”.
The person I was meeting with said this room would be reserved for a private conversation between the two of us, and while I still had some doubts about that, I could not find adequate justification for my paranoia. I saw a few people passing by as I made my way to this room, but nobody I even faintly recognized, and nobody who paid me any mind as they saw me.
I peered in the door’s window at a large table with no less than 12 chairs surrounding it. At first, I thought it was empty, but as I adjusted my viewing angle and peered towards the back of the room, I saw the person I was looking for. A young black girl, no older than 10, sitting casually with her legs propped on the desk, playing a turquoise Nintendo Switch Lite video game entertainment system. Her hair was dyed an eye-catching pink and fashioned into a pixie cut, while her outfit consisted of a yellow sleeveless top, a willowy blue skirt that went past her knees, and a pair of plastic purple pumps.
She was certainly an eccentric-looking child based on her colorful wardrobe, but what I found truly remarkable about her appearance was her face. The deep dimples, the prominent eyelashes, the shimmer in her eyes, and the joyous expression. She was adorable in every way I could conceive or even ask for, and that… stirred something inside me. Something that I tried to repress the instant it crossed my mind.
I turned my head away from the door and looked off into the hallway I came from.
“Is she really the person I’m supposed to meet?” I thought to myself. “She matches the description, and it is conspicuous seeing someone like her all alone. But still… I could just leave. I’ve done nothing wrong, and there really is nothing I… Oh fuck this—”
Right as I began taking the first step away from this door, I forced my body to turn and planted my hand firmly on the door handle, twisting it open and entering the room by stomping down my feet. The echo reverberated throughout the conference room, and drew the attention of the young girl, causing her to direct her attention away from her video game and towards me.
“You must be Norman Norton, right?”
Her voice was something that would sound perfect amongst a girl’s choir. It was high, soft, and devoid of the slurred speech or lisp-littered intonation that many grade school children possessed. There was something immensely comforting about the way she talked, and as I looked at her, dumbfounded by fear and feelings that I tried my best not to dwell on, I bit my lip, annoyed by my faltering confidence, and looked into the girl’s welcoming brown eyes, ready to return her greeting.
“Yeah, that’s my name. And you must be the… confidant.”
“The name’s Nana. Don’t wear it out, and don’t feel the need to be so uptight, Normie. Just take a seat, unwind, and I’ll see how I can help you with your issues.”
“And… and your promise that this will all be—”
“Confidential, secretive, and off the record. Don’t worry, I’ve met guys like you dozens of times, and their secrets are as safe as can be.”
“…I don’t know what I expected when you said I would be meeting with a kid,” I said as I took a seat. “I figured it was a metaphor at first, but when I saw that you were in this room, alone, I guess I put two and two together.”
“What can I say? I’m a pretty literal person. I tell you what it is, like it is, and how it is. I’m all about repping that realness, but most of all I’m all about helping folks like you out of whatever binds they find themselves in. So let’s cut the crap and get on with the talking time. First, foremost, and to kick this whole shebang off on a right powerful note, what brings you to my quaint little office?”
“…This isn’t an office, it’s just a room you’re loitering in.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know that I reserved this room 28 hours in advance, bud. Don’t go questioning my diligence or my integrity.”
“I… sorry, Nana, I’m just a bit thrown off by this whole situation.”
“Apology accepted, now get on with your story.”
“Alright,” I said as I leaned back in my chair, “during grade school, I liked the girls my age. I thought they were cute, fun to be around, generally… attractive, and because of that, I tried to befriend them. I even went on a few dates with one of them, and proudly called her my girlfriend for a while. But… things changed once middle school began. Once I started going through puberty, so did the girls I was happy to call my friends. They became taller, developed breasts, their voices changed and… they changed as people too. Around this time, a lot of boys my age were envious of the close relationship I had with this circle of girls. They’d talk about how much I could stare at their boobs, how I probably had sex with them, and how, with my insight on women, I could get the hottest girl in school if I wanted to. But what they thought was ‘hot’ was different from what I thought was ‘hot’.”
“To them ‘hot’ was curves, huge tits, an hourglass figure, and a giant ass. But I simply did not find that to be very attractive, and instead found myself more drawn to girls who were younger than me, ones who were, as some put it, less developed. This preference remained true for me for the rest of my childhood. Even as I was cycled out of different circles of friends due to the turbulent nature of teenage social groups, my preference for younger women remained true. In eighth grade, I was dating a sixth-grader. In senior year I was dating a freshman. And in community college, I was dating a high school senior, the shortest, flattest, and most ‘rectangular’ one in her class.”
“For the longest time, I thought this was just a fetish of sorts. A type. A sexual preference made me more attracted to younger, shorter, and less curvaceous women. I kept looking for girls like that during my early 20s, but as time went on, and after I went on a date with a 16-year-old when I was 21, I realized that, no, there was something wrong with me. I began trying to figure out what my sexuality actually was, experimenting and trying to bring into words what I found to be truly sexually appealing. I kept searching, experimenting, and trying to avoid the truth before I finally confronted it.”
“I am attracted to… young girls. Prepubescent girls. I tried to deny it at first, searching for an alternative answer, but… it’s true. I am a… pedophile. I find girls… girls like you, Nana, to be… sexy.”
“Nice to hear you admit it so willingly,” Nana replied with a grin, “but tell me, my dear Norman, what did you do with these urges of yours?”
“I masturbate…” I answered while averting my gaze, “to fantasies about dream girls. Loli hentai. Videos of young girls in their bathing suits or underwear that YouTube kept showing me after I ruined my recommendations one sad afternoon. I did this for… years. But after a while, as I got older, I now realize that… I can’t keep doing this. I have been able to keep this a secret, I’ve just made myself look like an aromantic sort of person to my friends and family, but… that’s not what I want. I want to be with someone who I find attractive. Who I find beautiful. Who I can love with all of my heart. But… I cannot do that.”
“Because society looks down on it?” Nana said with a curt tone.
“No. Because I know it is fucked. I know it is wrong. I know that, as an adult, I cannot do that to a child. That even if I do love them, my love for them will dwindle as they age away from my static preference. I know that they cannot reciprocate my love. That it is… monstrous for me to force them to do so. I have these urges… and there is no healthy way for me to satiate them. I’ve been trying to ignore them, but… even though I haven’t masturbated in months, they still crop up. Whenever I see a cute little girl in the fruit store, I feel a shiver go down my spine. Whenever I see an adorable actress in a show or film, I begin undressing them with my eyes. Whenever I see the children of my friends grow and blossom into something beyond a toddler, I feel the need to distance myself from them.”
“I’ve tried to never harm a child,” I said with conviction. “I refrain from speaking to them, cast my glares aside as soon as I see them, have never sought out genuine child porn as I understand the villainous manner in which it is created— through rape, abuse, and slavery. And I have most certainly never laid with a child… at least not since I was 12… that was during a sleepover… nothing sexual happened during any of my sleepovers, well, except for that one— Nevermind! Gah! Why the fuck did I phrase it like that?”
“…Holy shit dude, you cried like a goldarn canary,” Nana said with a grin. “Most of the time when I deal with Nomaps like you, it’s like pulling teeth.”
Nomap. Non-Offending Minor Attracted Person. It’s a term that cropped up in recent years that I thought would help differentiate people like me, those who held urges and attractions towards children, from those who acted upon them. But in the eyes of society, we are all the same. Child fuckers. Devious monsters. Predatory evil-doers. It does not matter if one’s actions bear malice, or if they are even actions at all. So long as a desire exists, I guess we are all the same. We’re all pedophiles. And we’re all an evil that deserves to be mocked and subsequently erased. I know that my friends think that way. My family too. Hell, even I thought that much before I came to terms with my feelings.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think things through,” I said, “thought about how I would word my story.”
“And now that storytime is over,” Nana began, “I suppose we ought to move onto the next step. You know that, just because you harbor these impulses, that doesn’t make you a bad person or anything, right? Everybody has some wack-ass thoughts, but what defines them, what makes them good or bad, is not what’s in their mind, but what they do. Actions are what define a person, and so long as you keep your actions in check, and do not indulge in your troublesome desires, then who can truly say you are a bad person?”
“Everyone,” I replied, “It’s a nice sentiment, but society doesn’t necessarily consider technicalities like that. It paints people in flat colors, brushing aside any ambiguity or nuance, simplifying people down into categories, buzzwords, and labels. If my desires became public, I would be labeled as a child rapist even though it’s been years since I’ve so much as laid a hand on a child.”
“You probably could have phrased that better,” Nana said with a snicker, “but I get it. I’ve heard similar things in the past, and I’m sure you came here to find some alternative solutions to your woes.”
“Realistically, I just wish my desires went away. That I could wake up and find myself attracted to women of my own age. That I could look at a child without getting… nervous.”
“You seem to be doing fine with me.”
“Because you know my secret, and are acting casually about it. I’m currently a bit too flushed with fear and relief to be nervous about how I’m talking to an adorable little girl who I want to wrap in my arms, embrace, and rub faces with.”
“Right before sticking it up my ass?”
“Oh fuck no. Your brain is underdeveloped. I have physical, social, and mental power over you. You can’t offer consent. I mean, I would like it if you could and would allow me to… oh God, did I really just say that?”
“Sure as sherbert! But I do have to commend you for your restraint. Most guys and gals I’ve met tend to lose it when the matter of plowing my perky little bum comes up.”
“Yeah, um… does that mean I can get started on some advanced repression techniques or something?”
“Pfft, if your goal is just repression, you seem to be doing just fine. You know your brain far better than I do, and seem to have things under control if it’s been months since you fapped. What you, my dear Normie, are looking for appears to be a permanent solution to what ails you.”
“Yes, but… please don’t call me Normie. I don’t particularly like my name, but I would rather you say it properly.”
“Fiiiiine! Anyway, that thing you want doesn’t exist in this world, and trust me when I said that I looked far and wide. You could try mentally breaking yourself, pulling conversion therapy shit on yourself until your sexuality is basically broken and your mind is filled with malice and hatred whenever you try to imagine yourself and your little girl wife leading a happy and wholesome life full of cuddles and weekend penetrations.”
“Please stop saying things like that…”
“But it adds levity to this serious situation!”
“This is a serious matter, there doesn’t need to be any levity.”
“Freakin’ buzzkill,” Nana groaned. “Anyway, you’ve got a couple of options. You could keep your sexuality on the DL. Keep jacking it to the best lolicons has to offer, and keep enjoying sultry kiddy candids. But that’s what you’ve been doing, and I take it that you want to actually walk away from this meeting with some answers.”
“Solution number one is to take medication that will lower your libido significantly and, after taking it for several months, will permanently kill off your sex drive for good. You’ll be completely asexual and never get it off to anything, but at least you won’t need to fight your urges as much. I know a guy who prescribes this stuff, have seen it work tons of times, and only once have I seen somebody regret their decision.”
“That sounds promising, I guess, but…”
“Hol’ up a minute, I said that this was solution number one. I’ve still got two more for you. But before getting to them, I oughta explain myself a little bit. Tell me, Norman Mc-Norton-ton, how old do you think I am.”
“Well, based on some of the comments you’ve made and how you’re conducting yourself, I’m guessing you’re a bit older than you look. So… maybe 13?”
“Pfft! Wrong! I’m 60, bitch!”
“I normally don’t get to this until the second or third meeting, but you seem like a receptive whippersnapper, so I’ll treat you to The Origin of Nana! The Nanorigin if you will! Born in 1960, I led a pretty uneventful life as part of a poor family, but thanks to the work ethic and manners my pops beat into me, I made out pretty alright. Overall, there wasn’t too much to complain or bitch about my life, aside from obvious shit I don’t need to explain to guys like you, but my life was hampered by one petulant little annoyance. That I was a grown-ass man with the hots for little boys.”
“I went through the 80s trying to repress my shit, busting out catalogs of kid pics and trying not to cum all over their faces and fuck the pages up. But as time passed and my lust grew, I just could not take it anymore. On April 20th, 1992 in Funke, Colorado, a big black man named Ben Benedict was masturbating outside of a schoolyard after filling a camera full of sultry child candids. Most dudes in his place would have gotten caught and jailed, but he got away with it, developed the film that night, and popped off some fine-ass cummies ‘fore he went to Nemo Land.”
“Then, come morning, he had a revelation of sorts. A realization that his life could not continue like this. That something had to be done about his devil-some and destructive desires. For while he was fortunate enough to avoid being branded a monster by those around him, there was no guarantee that things would continue that way. And as he laid on his couch, eyes blankly looking at the dark television before him, he made a wish.”
“‘I wish there was some way I could be around little boys forever.’”
“As these words echoed throughout his silent apartment complex, the fabric of reality twisted and bent, causing a rift to open up before Ben, revealing a woman no more than 30 centimeters tall. Her name was Akumako, a demon girl with horns, wings, and wearing a full violet bodysuit. She preyed on the wishes of the needy and desperate, looking for ways to twist vaguely worded desires to something more fitting her unique preferences.”
“Ben was just one of her countless victims, and was subjected to a… creative application of his vaguely defined wish. In order to allow him to be around little boys forever, Akumako decided to give him the body of a young girl, one with a biologically immortal body would enable them to, in a sense, spend the entirety of her life around other children, including little boys, without arising any suspicion.”
“However, this was not enough for the likes of Akumako. She sensed my deeply entrenched yearnings for a more ‘socially acceptable’ sexuality, and replaced my ‘faggy-ass ways with something better.’ This was the 90s, so people could still talk like that without getting shit-canned. And because of that, I’m an eternally young girl who likes to do it with men. Big men, small men, handsome men, fat ugly-ass bastards. It don’t matter. Just so long as they actually wanna bone me, which limits my pool to people like you, my sweet-sweet Norman.”
I stared blankly at the smug expression worn by the young girl before me. Her confidence in her story was enough to convince me that, at the very least, she wholeheartedly believed in what she was saying. And if this was the case, if she was actually a man who was turned into an eternally young girl then… the fuck even is reality? Are there just random wish-granting demons that pop up and nobody knows about? How has nobody taken a picture of one of them? How has nobody ever used them to enact a war? Is that beyond their power? If one can retain eternal youth, wouldn’t it be worthwhile for everybody to go back to having the body of a 10-year-old? The fuck is the limit for this magical nonsense?
“Anyway, that kicked off my life as it was now. Most of what I know about Akumako comes from my sporadic meetings with her over the years. She says she’s obligated to check up on those she transforms ‘every now and again’. Whatever that means.”
“…Could you please tell me why you brought this up to me?” I asked, still struggling to process the idea of wish-granting demons.
“First off, because I love the reactions it draws from people. If I could, I would just film everybody who I tell my story to and playback their reactions whenever I’m feeling blue. Shit’s hi-lar-i-ous! And second off, because this information is crucial to solution number two and three.”
“Solution number two is quite simple. You stick to your kiddy loving ways, but only indulge upon them with somebody who is something of an exception to the previously discussed reasons why having sex with kids is a major no-no. A person by the name of Nana Nonagon. You’ll join in with my current rotation of man toys, also known as boyfriends, also known as fuck dads. And in exchange for getting to spend time with me, doing basically whatever you want unless it involves binder clips, spiders, hot wax, pee-pee, or dookie, you give me a very reasonable fee that allows me to continue my NEET kid life in peace.”
“Solution number three is the opposite of simple. It involves dialing up the devil and asking her if she can whip your pedo-ass into something more socially acceptable. Word it however you want, but Akumako and her homies like to mess with your wishes. Seen 30-ish people try this for themselves, none of them ever got exactly what they wanted, but most were super happy with their arrangements. Even if the changes seem like shit at first, as the years go on, they start to realize that, ‘hey, this demon may have murdered my old life, but at least I’m hot, unaging, or have magic powers’.”
“Consider your three options, sleep on it, and we’ll chat in about a week or so. Sound gooder than good, or just goody-good?”
I placed my fingers against my temple as Nana stopped her explanation. What. The fuck. Had I gotten myself into? I came here looking for answers to what I considered a mental disease. And within the span of… an hour, if that, I poured out my deepest darkest secret to a stranger, who in turn told me that I could either have sex with her for all my life or that I could try my luck by summoning a demon to help me with my woes. I wanted to give her a response then and there, but as I tried to sift through my foggy and cluttered mind, the only definitive thought I could settle on was that I needed a drink. So, in return to her comment, I let out a sigh, stood up, and thanked her for everything. For lending an ear, giving me a bit of a pep talk, and offering me some very… creative solutions.
“No probs, my dude. You’ve got my burner number, so hit me up when you feel like making a life-changing decision. Just, uh, make sure you keep dis ish confidential.”
“Trust me Nana, nobody but the craziest of crazies would ever believe a word about what I experienced tonight. …And thank you again.”
“Yeah, yeah, now get outta here. I’ve got half an hour before papa homie gets here, and I was in the middle of whooping Groundon’s butt in Pokémon Mystery Dungeon Rescue Team DX when you walked in. So, um, I kinda wanna get back to it.”
With that, I left the community center, got in my car, drove home, and proceeded to drown my sorrows in sweet sweet alcohol until I passed out around 20:00. I spent the ensuing weekend wallowing in uncertainty, getting little done, and deliberating my choices. I could continue my Nomap life, give up any and all forms of sexual desire or pleasure, pursue a quasi-moral path by having sex with somebody who is eternally young, or make a wish that a demon would assuredly twist into something that is not what I wanted.
It was an absurd choice that I could not believe I was making, but, after a week of careful consideration, I made my decision, and took the next step in the rest of my life.
Outcome A: Lolific[A]tion.
When magic is thrown on the table, it’s hard to just leave it there. I felt that, on some level, I needed to satiate my curiosity. That way, I would at least walk away with an experience that few people could ever say they had, meeting with another being beyond the mortal realm.
I was apprehensive about doing this, but, according to Nana, there was a very good chance that I would walk away from this arrangement… happy. Happier than anything in my reality could make me. And while I knew there would be some adverse consequences, because demons, I felt that, no matter what, this arrangement would be a net positive experience for me and put my life in a better place. A naive idea, but sometimes you just need to trust your naivete, and believe that things will work out for the best.
On a rainy Sunday afternoon, I followed the basic instructions that Nana sent me and began the summoning ritual. As the incantation left my mouth, the world around me became devoid of all sound, colors became muted, and it felt as if time itself had slowed down. As my heartbeat accelerated, I began to wonder if I made a grave mistake. I feared that I had failed to follow the instructions properly and unknowingly subjected myself to a cruel fate. But then, as Nana described, a figure appeared before me, rising from a puff of smoke that was billowing out of my floor. I was expecting something akin to the demon Nana had encountered, a small devil girl. But what I saw was no devil. It was an angel.
An angel with flowing blonde hair, porcelain skin, dressed in a dainty robe, with both the figure and stature of a fully grown woman. She looked at me with topaz eyes as I stared at her, recognizing her beauty, but also her oversized and poorly concealed breasts. If I had a more normal sexuality, I’m sure that I would have been gawking at them, but instead I just looked at them with shock before directing my attention at this angel’s face.
“Greetings human,” she said with an imposing voice, “For what reason have you sought out aid from a mystical force?”
“I, um, I am… well, you see that’s—” I stammered incoherently, lacking the fortitude to adapt to a situation like this.
“I can see a desire burning in your heart. Something you consider to be a disease. Something that has ailed you for much of your life. You wish for me to rid you of this desire, do you not?”
“Yes, yes ma’am!”
“Oh please child, thou may call me Tenshiko. I am a humble servant to all who summon me, though I must warn you that my magical aid comes at a cost that you must be willing to pay as you verbalize your wish to me. Per recent negotiations between my kind and others, we are permitted to aid humans as we see fit, but with a catch. We are obligated to twist your desires into something askew, perhaps even detrimental to oneself. So, I beg you, human, please consider your wish with the utmost care.”
“Um, before I do that, may I ask you a question.”
“You may, but know that I am only permitted to share so much with humans.”
“I was told that this was a demon summoning ritual, and that I would be greeted with somebody by the name of Akumako, a little devil girl.”
“…That’s a long story that I lack the time for,” Tenshiko began, adopting a more casual tone, “but in short, there was a messy merger between our realms, and now all of us mystical forces are living together. It’s not necessarily hysteria, but we are still working out the kinks, and trying to revamp society for our greater betterment. In the meantime, duties are being spread through something similar to what people in your nation would call affirmative action. I’m a Divi, but I was assigned to a job traditionally performed by Daemonkin.”
“Look, could you please make your wish? I probably said too much already… not that I would know. Seriously, how hard is it to update a bloody NDA…”
“…You done?” I asked as Tenshiko was mumbling to herself.
“Yes, my dear human. State your desires, and I shall make them so. Please make sure you use the phrase ‘I wish’ or the equivalent in another language, or else I will be unable to process your request.”
“Okay… I wish I was able to indulge in my sexual desires without harming anyone else, directly or indirectly.”
“Hm… yes, I can work with that,” Tenshiko said as she grasped her chin with her slender fingers. “Let’s see if… oh, now I understand why you sought out otherworldly aid. So you wished it, so it shall be.”
As those words escaped Tenshiko’s plump, flawless lips, I felt a surge of pain reverberate across every facet of my person. My bones cracked, my skin was burning, and it felt like insects were scattered across my innards, pushing and tugging against my muscles and organs. I fell to the ground, screaming, fidgeting about on the floor in hope of alleviating myself of this foul sensation for even a moment.
Nevertheless, it persisted, clawing away at my being, and caused me to shut off my senses as a coping strategy. My eyes shut from pain, my ears failed to register anything but the sound of my shrieks, and I no longer even felt the clothes coating my person. I could not estimate how long I was in this state. All I knew was that I managed to get through it and lived. Weak and immersed in the sense of pins and needles across my being, I looked up at Tenshiko, a sorrowful frown on her divine visage.
“I am sorry I had to subject you to that, but minutes of torment will assuredly be worth a lifetime of greater joy.”
“U-Ugh,” I groaned in a high-pitched voice.
“I have granted you the ability to shift between two bodies. That of the man you have been for 29 years, and one matching your sexual preferences. Look down at yourself, you will see that you now possess the body of a 9-year-old girl. The body of your ‘dream girl’ as it were. You may adopt either form by exerting your will, but know that this ability comes with limitations. Your body may only shift between forms approximately every hour. Shifting between forms more than a few times in a single day will cause you to grow ill. And while your original male body shall age in accordance with the time you spend in it, your new female body shall never age a day.”
“As for your sexuality, that has also been changed. Now your lust shall no longer be expressed outward, but rather inward. Your object of sexual desire is now yourself, your unaging female form. You will receive more pleasure from masturbating in that form than you will from anything else in the world. I believe that humans refer to this as autosexuality or autophilia. I would like to aid you further, but alas, I may not occupy this realm any longer. I bid you farewell, dear human, and wish you the best for the remainder of your mortal existence.”
And with that, Tenshiko left in a puff of smoke, the sound of ambiance returned to my apartment, and color returned to the world around me. I lifted my sore body from the floor and found myself drowning in clothes that once fit me well. Feeling the fatigue and pain leave my new form, I began making my way throughout my apartment, clenching a wall for support, until I made way to my bathroom, where I propped myself on the toilet to see myself in the mirror. I was greeted with the reflection of a young girl. She had curly brown hair, olive skin, and made my heart race as I stared at her immaculate face, complete with emerald eyes.
“She’s beautiful,” I thought.
I then looked down at myself and saw what I was in the mirror, the body of a young girl.
“I’m beautiful,” I said in my new immaculate voice.
From there, I spent the remainder of the day immersing myself in my new form, fawning over my person and pleasuring my newly acquired parts. Part of me felt that I could immerse myself in my own sexual urges forever, but hunger and fatigue eventually called me back to reality. It was then, as I enjoyed a filling cheese and pickle sandwich in the dead of night, that I began to lay out the framework for the rest of my life.
A dual life as it were. One where my weekdays were spent as Norman, toiling away at a corporate job to fund and fuel my second life. The life of a young girl named Nono. I spent my nights as her, toiling away at routine daily tasks from cooking to cleaning, and spending nearly all of my leisure time in this energetic body. Not a day passed where I did not thank that angel for bestowing me with this divine body, and not a day passed without a bout of bodily indulgence.
My love for my new body led me to become distant or even neglectful to my old one, and the life I had led. Within a matter of weeks, I had come to view my time as Norman as an obligation, an annoying necessity, and I began seeking out alternatives. I began putting more money away into my savings, looked for jobs I could do from home as Nono, and I completely neglected those who were once so very close to me. Because I knew it would be too hard to ever reveal the truth to them, to ever come clean.
Before, I harbored a devious desire, but now, I acted upon it. I called upon an otherworldly being to aid me, and they did by giving me a body to pleasure, to defile, to make moan in ways that satisfied my urges. I could not tell them the truth and, honestly, I did not want to. I started breaking things off with them, not returning their calls, and only attending the most necessary of familial gatherings. They could all tell that something was wrong with me, but while my excuses were numerous, none were even remotely close to the truth.
In a sense, I suppose this made my life rather isolating. I had not attempted to make friends as Nono, and while I did regularly go out as her to go grocery shopping and the like, nobody really knew who she was. Hell, as far as the world was concerned, she didn’t actually exist and was just some undocumented child roaming about. That is, until I was contacted by Nana one day.
While I initially used her bizarre and spiraling web of connections to get an ID for the person who would be known as Nono Nipper, our relationship became something more than that. As it turns out, Nana had been feeling a bit isolated in her lot in life as well. While she had a strong relationship with a number of men she surrounded herself with, she had little in the way of friends. She did not know anyone who was just like her. She tried to befriend children, but she simply could not relate to them given her age and lot in life. So, in a sense, we were destined or perhaps made to be friends. Two individuals with a shared experience of sorts who could hang around each other and indulge in their more childish urges under the guise that, to the rest of the world, that’s what we were, a pair of kids.
As the months turned to years, as my time as Norman dwindled, and as my savings amassed, I did not regret my decision. I was given the ability to indulge myself without becoming a monster. I was given a friend who I could be myself around, wholly and utterly. I was happy. I was free. I was eternally grateful to those who blessed me with this fortune. And even decades later, I still muttered words of gratitude towards Tenshiko whenever I pleasured myself, confident that I had made the right choice to lead my old life behind and embrace my new existence as a young girl by the name of Nono.
Outcome B: Em[B]race
As I laid down on my bed, immersed in the afterglow of sexual intercourse, a smile crept onto my face, washing away whatever worry and concern I wore when I first laid on this cushy bed made for two and chose to lay with her.
“So, how was it?” Nana said as she clenched my torso with her person.
“It was… amazing,” I said in a whispery tone. “Thank you. Thank you Nana.”
“Hehe, you weren’t too bad yourself. I mean for a virgin anyways. So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Well, I’m not really sure what you like. We could go to an amusement park or zoo or something, but I would want it to be something that you personally enjoy.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get that every time, and I’ve been around this city more times than I can count, so there really isn’t anywhere I want to go that I haven’t been too in a couple of months.”
“Um, how many boyfriends did you say you had again?”
“Counting you? 9. And to be honest… I kinda just want to fuck around and play some video games, grab a pizza, get a little drunk. Y’know, bro stuff. If that sounds good to you, consider it a date ”
“I guess that sounds fun. It’s just not what I… what I was really expecting us to do.”
“Hey man, it’s your money. If you want to pay me to come with you to the zoo, then sure, I’ll go to the zoo with you.”
“It’s not really about the zoo, it’s more that… ”
“Is this about me being a polyamorous little tramp?”
“I… It’s my dream to be able to come home, walk-in, see a little girl before me, making dinner that we eat together before spending the night together, and having sex if we feel like it.”
“Yeah,” Nana began with dryness in her voice, “that’s a nice dream but, as I said before, I kind of have a lot of people I’m helping at the moment, and I can’t show preferential treatment just for the hell of it. If I did move in with you and become your little wife, then I would be letting down 8 other people. I’m sorry if all I can do is keep you regular but, again—.”
“I know, I get it… but that does not make it sting less.”
“Oh, boo-freaking-hoo. You’re days away from entering your 30s, dude. You should know that things will not always work out in your favor. And if you don’t like this arrangement, the other offers are still on the table.”
“No, I’ll be fine, I just… needed to vent a little bit. My head’s a bit funky after we—”
“Oh, so you’re one of those guys. It’s cool, I get it, I get it.”
“Anyway,” I said before letting out a small sigh, “tomorrow sounds like it’ll be fun. When should I come over to your place?”
“How about… 11?”
“A bit early, but that will work. I’ll see you then.”
“Well, it’ll actually be a couple of minutes. I got a text from Gregg. He’s finishing up at Costco, so it’ll be about 20 before he gets here. Mind if I use your shower in the meantime?”
“Be my guest. Though, I’m not sure if my shampoo will be—”
“It will be fine Norman. Again, this is a 10-year-old girl you’re talking to, not a 20-year-old who needs to worry about her hair getting futzed up by chemicals.”
That was how our first night together ended, and it was the first of many.
For decades we would keep at this, with me regularly seeking sexual satisfaction and some degree of kinship from her through our mostly unconventional date nights. It was far from the existence I dreamed of, but it was one where I could satiate my sexual desires while still retaining a degree of humanity.
I eventually came to appreciate and adore Nana, loving her attitude and inclination to experiment sexually, allowing me to indulge in whatever bizarre ideas I found from my weekly hentai hunts in an environment that I knew would be safe and understanding. In all the years I spent with her, I miraculously avoided any awkward encounters with co-workers, friends, or family, allowing me to keep this dirty little secret of mine secure. All until I reached old age, began losing my sex drive, allowing Nana to free up more time to help others, while still squeezing in enough time for an occasional visit with me. A humble visit where I simply enjoyed talking to her, seeing her adorable face, and the back and hand massages she gave me.
Again, this was not precisely what I wanted, but in a world such as ours, you sometimes need to make concessions. Settle for something that’s good, not great. And the simple fact that I was given the opportunity to indulge, that I got to fuck a beautiful child hundreds of times without ever truly hurting anyone… that is more than enough for me.
Outcome C: Independen[C]e
As I looked back at my phone, trying to give a solid answer to Nana about what I wanted to do with my life… I removed her from my contacts.
“What am I doing?” I said to myself.
“Demonic rituals, child prostitution, and drugs. That is the world you are from, miss Nonagon, and while you may offer me some salvation through those things, I… I cannot. I cannot do that. I’ve gone this long, and with enough resolve, I… I can do this on my own. I can strive, I can succeed, I can avoid becoming a monster through my own force of will. It just will take time, restraint, and dedication, but I can do it.”
That’s what I said, and, well, that’s what I did. I allowed my dark secret to remain a dark secret for years upon years and decades upon decades. Through password-protected folders, a self-taught aversion to children I saw while going about my days, and putting up a guise of normalcy around my family and friends, saying that I would simply be happier if I remained by my lonesome. I made due.
I was never completely at ease though. The worry of my secret being revealed never left me all these years, and while I avoided ever acting upon my urges, having achieved the elusive goal of becoming a 70-year-old virgin, I still had them. For so much of my life, I had wanted to do something, and just… didn’t. I had everything I could have realistically asked for by this point in my life. A small home, ample savings that allowed me to retire, and assorted technological doodads that made my life easier. But the one thing I wanted more than anything else was forever out of reach.
And that made me bitter. It made me dejected. It made me a little more than a grumpy old man who went through the best years of his life being unable to do what he wanted to. And that bitterness gave way to regret. A belief that I had been a coward in my younger years. A belief that things would have been so much better if I had pursued Nana’s aid if I had tried to change myself. Who knows what my life could have been if I tried summoning a demon or what my mental state would be if I absolve myself of all sexual desire. I didn’t. But I wanted to. Just so that I could stop asking myself questions.
As I deliberated these things, I found my musings interrupted by a pitter-patter on my door, calling me off my chair and away from the screen that assaulted me with garbled information I sporadically paid attention to. I casually opened the door, and nearly collapsed as I looked forward and saw somebody I had not seen in 4 decades.
A young black girl, no older than 10, with curly blue hair, wearing a pink midriff revealing tank top, yellow shorts that barely covered her legs, and fashionable glasses propped on her forehead. I looked away, trying to tell myself that I was just mistaken and that I mustn’t lose my composure at the mere sight of such a lightly dressed child. But then, she spoke to me and confirmed that the person before me was none other than Nana.
“It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it mister Norman Norton? Here I was, just taking a nice summertime stroll when a little notification reminded me that this was your residence. I thought I turned those blasted things off, but now, I’m kinda glad that I didn’t.”
“…What do you want?” I barked at her.
“Well, I saw your name, remembered that, oh, right, this dude flaked on me a few decades ago, I wonder how he’s doing.”
“I stopped contacting you for a reason, Nana. I want nothing to do with you.”
“Yeah, and you did a real great job expressing that to me. Seriously, you could’ve just said you weren’t interested and wanted to… actually, the fuck have you been doing about your… urges?”
“That’s none of your damn business, but I have done nothing wrong.”
“You got a wife and kids? Actually, I can just look that up, so either you can answer or Nettie-chan will.”
“…No, I have no kids, no wife, nothing. I live by myself, and I am quite happy with my life.”
“Yeah, and I can tell, being so damn hostile when meeting up with an old chum. You sure seem like a firm little peach of a man. …Y’know, my offer still stands. I mean, not the drugs one, that dude died. And at your age, I doubt your dick works all too well anyways. But if you wanna pay me to get it on for the first time in a couple of years or whatever, I’m down. Or, hell, we could even dial up the Mystics and get you a nicer body if you word your wish just right.”
“…Get the fuck off my property!” I said as I slammed the door in Nana’s face.
After indulging in that monetary outburst, I was overcome with regret once more. Was I just not receptive to happiness? Had I become so indentured to the idea that I was bitter and insatiable that I actually liked it? Or was I just old, tired, and ready for my life to end, 30 years before it was expected to? I did not know. I just knew that I was going to keep things as they were, and not try to do anything more than maintain what I had. So, I went back to my chair, watched my screen, and drifted off to sleep. My thoughts were full of regret, but also a form of confidence and pride. For even if I did shy away from adventure and potential happiness, even as it literally came knocking at my doorstep, at least I led my life by my terms.
Outcome D: Frigi[D]
I don’t want to hurt anybody. I don’t want to be seen as a threat. I don’t even want to harbor these desires. And while this approach may leave me devoid of any sexual feelings of any sort, perhaps that’s the best solution for people like me. Perhaps everybody who feels the way I do should undergo something similar. No lust for children means no defiled children. It means there is no attention fueling the child sexual slavery market. It means that I will no longer hold a persistent secret for the rest of my life. It means I will no longer be an enemy of society waiting to be unleashed.
After putting some of my sperm on ice as a ‘just-in-case’ precaution, I met with the doctor. Nana briefed them about my story, meaning I did not need to directly explain the details myself. They were cordial about the whole thing, asked only a few questions, and in exchange for about $250 I was given a bottle of pills to take for three months and was told that I’d be given more if needed. I started taking them as soon as I came home, and while they did cause some drowsiness, stomach pains, and nasty shits, they worked as advertised.
My lust for little girls, or really anything, began to dissipate, fading away like a rapidly artifacting image that became more corrupted and obscured every single day. On one hand, it was frightening, seeing something that I, at one point, considered a core part of my identity fade away like this. On the other hand, it was relieving. It was freeing. It was, in a sense, like being freed of a persistent curse that had followed me throughout the bulk— if not the entirety— of my life.
By the time the 90 day supply was gone, my urges were demolished, only remaining in the faintest of places, and sexuality became an increasingly distant memory to me. The ensuing month was met with melancholy, regret, and worries that I made a mistake, but after clearing out my hard drive, deleting my shameful accounts, and ridding myself of… most paraphernalia related to the sexualization of minors, I felt like I had been set free from a great burden.
While my life from here on out was asexual and aromantic, I considered that the best option. The most realized, grounded, and… normal way in which I could solve this problem without letting it encroach on me and my existence. I occasionally did wonder about what could have been if I pursued the more outlandish choices before me, and if my sexuality would have changed as I aged further, but… I made my choice. I lived my life without a demon on my shoulder whispering words of eroticism about every little girl who caught my attention.
It was a quaint uneventful life. One without any sexual indulgences. One without prolonged strife or worry. And one without ever so much as seeing the eternally young girl by the name of Nana ever again. While I did bear some remorse for the extremity of my chosen solution, using drugs traditionally reserved for serial rapists, I could not argue with the results. I had a problem. I fixed it. And nobody was harmed in the process. How could I ask for anything more?
Outcome E: R[E]ctify
“In the eyes of society, we are all the same. Child fuckers. Devious monsters. Predatory evil-doers. It does not matter if one’s actions bear malice, or if they are even actions at all. So long as a desire exists, I guess we are all the same. We’re all pedophiles. And we’re all an evil that deserves to be mocked and subsequently erased. I know that my friends think that way. My family too. Hell, even I thought that much before I came to terms with my feelings.”
Those thoughts of mine resurfaced as I deliberated my options, and the more I tried to think of a justified way for me to handle my cravings in a non-destructive manner, the more I began to resent myself for them. The more I began to resent myself for having ever acted upon them at all. Moral people did not like me. They did not want me. They wanted me to be gone. As such, would it not be moral to remove myself from society? To truly eliminate any and all potential wrongdoings I may embark on if I lose my resolve? And if I do truly despise myself for harboring these feelings then… What should I do?
There was… one option that Nana did not give me. An option that I entertained on occasion. An option both destructive and cruel, capable of ruining whatever life I had made for myself in the most direct and obvious way. I had ways out of this. But… when it came time to act on them, when it came time to respond to Nana, I just didn’t. I wanted to, but… as I continued to dwell on this in the isolation of my own mind, my belief in any salvation began to fade.
The devil would assuredly just make my life worse, twisting my body and mind in ways that I cannot even imagine. I mean, Nana says that it worked out for her, but can I truly trust her? Perhaps she only enjoys her new lot in life because she is compelled to. Because she is made to. And while I could try pursuing a relationship with her, what would come of that? A ravenous thirst for the supple young flesh of children that will only grow stronger as the idea is normalized in my mind?
The drugs sounded promising, a way to get out of this without harming anyone, and freeing me of a curse, albeit at the cost of my sexual drive. But I had no guarantee that this would ever work, and then, I would still be living with the memories of what happened. Those thoughts would still resonate throughout my being. I would have spent so much of my formative years lusting over children. And is there any true retribution for that?
Well, I did think of something. Something I pondered long ago. Something that would prevent me from ever harming anyone. From ever having these vile thoughts. From ever partaking in my devious activities. From doing… anything ever again. I knew the arguments against my decision. That people loved me, that I had so much living to do, that I would be missing out on everything good in the future, that life was sacred, and that I wouldn’t get to play CD Projekt’s latest masterpiece, Cyberpunk 2077, in a few months.
But after wallowing in my doubts over a weekend, getting stuck in my own head and imagining the worst-case scenario that I would be subjected to if I pursue any of the other options presented to me… I did not care. I had burrowed myself away from reason. I had cast aside hope. I had become immersed in despair, and as I neglected food and sleep, I was sinking deeper, and deeper, until, finally, I drowned.
At 3 AM, Monday morning, something in me cracked. I… gave up. I ran into the kitchen, pulled a serrated knife out of my drawer, and implanted the dulled blade into my neck, sawing it back and forward as I crumbled to the ground, gagging as blood secreted from my throat at a rapid rate, choking me and dousing my person in a cascade of vile crimson.
“What the hell am I doing?” I thought to myself.
It was too late for such thoughts, however. I dug my own grave, and already fallen into it. There was no chance I would receive the necessary aid in time, and living alone, nobody would even think to check up on me, much less in the dead of night. So, I laid there, convulsing in fear as I wondered what would wait for me as my mortal body ceased to function. And… I was met with pure nothingness. My senses faded, my thoughts ended, and the individual known as Norman Norton ceased to be.
My ultimate goal with this short story, which wound up ballooning to over 9,000 words because I do not know how to restrain myself, was to stage a narratively-driven discussion about pedophilia between two characters, conveying the plight of one character who is spiteful of their urges and wishes to do the most righteous thing they can think of. On that front, I think I did a pretty good job, although I probably should have researched the subject for more than a few minutes.
However, I simply could not allow the story to only be a calm discussion between two people, and needed to involve some transformation-based magical nonsense. Which served as a driving force for much of the middle of the story, and arguably one that detracted from the more serious and grounded points made in the first third.
It was while writing this middle section of the story that I began to rethink my proposed ending of the story, which had the protagonist summon a demon/angel to become an autosexual little girl. I realized that this story was ultimately about the protagonist making a choice, deciding how to fix their problem, and rather than just show one potential outcome, I aimed for the stars and wrote an extra four endings. Endings that, reading them back a year later, I think wrap up this short story nicely.