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Ditched (Gm Molest)

3616 words | 3 |3.00

A bit of role-reversal, between a predatory little girl, and a reluctant teenage boy. With weaponized Empathy.

SPLOOSH! He was at it again. This boy kept coming out to the ditch out back, picking up rocks with a grunt, and throwing them in the water.

Then, he got out of breath, and hot. So, I went out on the porch to watch him. Over the fence, he didn’t even notice me, coming out the kitchen door. He lay back against the other fence, across the creek, looking up.

I bet he was looking at the billboard, and I could hear the cars rushing on the highway, it was so loud. Even that far away, okay maybe half a block, but still. They had it up so high, you could see it over my house, even sitting down up against the other fence, across the way.

“Huh!” He stopped feeling his skinny arms, and rubbed his shirt. Over his nipple, I think. The Calvin Klein guy, he had his shirt unbuttoned, so he wasn’t topless, but the way he struck a pose for the picture. It swung out of the way, and just kinda hung there over his hip. The waistband of his underwear sticking out, so you could read [Calvin Klein] over his belt, and also see his nipple.

I giggled, but he didn’t hear me, he was still off in la-la-land. Looking at Calvin, I bet his name’s not really Calvin, he’s just a model, but I don’t know what else to call him. I think it means little? Klein, I mean. As in Eine Kliene Nachtmusik, I think that’s German for A Little Lullabye?

Of course, he’s not little, he must be 10′ tall at least, but the little gay boy. Well, I thought he was little, looking at him from way back here, until I got closer. He disappeared, when I went down the steps, but then I got to the gate. The back gate, where I could peek through the gap between it and the fence.

Sure enough, he was still rubbing his nipple through his shirt, but then, he started rubbing his crotch through his jeans. “Huh!” I spent many a night, looking up from my window, and imagining Calvin, going farther. Slipping the shirt off his shoulder, but slowly.

No need to rush, but I bet he’s tanned all over. His arm is just as dark, and muscular as his chest. Of course, his nipples match on both sides, when he slips out of the other sleeve, and starts unbuckling his belt. The hardon swelling through the crotch of those loose khakis, and then they slip down, so I can see his underwear.

Calvin Klein, of course. What else would he wear? I always wondered if they were boxers, or briefs. So, I split the difference, and imagined boxer briefs, but I can’t wait to pull them down. Over his hips, and down his legs, so his boner gets caught in the waistband, but slowly. Then, it pops up, and bounces, with his fresh shaved balls swinging in the scrotum.

I imagine, he is a model, you know. He probably shaves his balls, too. “Huh!”

Now, the little gay boy’s got his hands down his pants, and if I listen closely. I think I can hear his moans, clear across the creek. It’s this damned traffic noise, I got used to living so close to the highway, but now even with my ear up to the crack. It must be my imagination, it’s too loud, and he’s too far away, but they locked the gate.

Years and years ago, so the padlock is so rusted, even if dad was home, and I could fish the keys out of his pants, who knows if it would work? So, I have to climb over, to get a closer look, before it’s too late.

No worry, he’s in no hurry, but the rhyme made me laugh, so he blinked, and pulled his hand out so quick, it made his pants snap back loud enough to hear it.

“Sh!” I don’t know why i said that, when he hadn’t even said anything, but I shushed him. “It’s okay,” I looked back. “You like him, huh?” Over my shoulder, and the fence, at my house. I was too close to really see the sign, but I don’t have to, really. I can just close my eyes, and I could probably draw it from memory if I had a piece of paper, and a pencil, and I could draw.

I shook my head, “Yeah, me too.” But he was already getting up, and stuffing his shirt down his pants again. No belt, and instead of a dress shirt, with crisscross stripes like plaid, only diagonal, and just black and white. In the picture, it’s not black, and white, but color. Only the shirt is black and white, but the Khakis match the deep tan, and his brown hair. Stubble, and muscular hairless body.

“Huh, I’m gay for him too.” I finally admitted. “Don’t tell anyone, or.” I almost threatened to tell on him, when he was already about to run off, with his tail between his legs.

“Really?” He finally stopped, and turned around.

“Yeah, he’s really hot, huh? You like his nipples?”

He nodded, “I can only see one,” looking up, “But it looks really dark.”

“And hard, too. I bet it’s rock hard, like a little pebble. How come you come out here, to throw rocks in the water first? Is it to work out?”

He came down the bank first, over by where there was already some rocks, he’d thrown in. Earlier, today, he was throwing the big rocks, in the deep water over by my back gate, but he’s thrown those in first. “You must be really strong by now, huh?”

“Uh,” He looked up from the little beach down there, at me. “How can you be gay for him, if you’re a girl?”

“Can I tell you a secret?” I leaned down, and put my one hand on my knee, to brace myself. He shook it, so I laughed, then pulled him hard, to help him climb up. I stopped laughing, right away, and caught a whiff of his sweat hair. ‘huh’ a little out of breath. ‘i’m not a girl,’ I whispered. ‘i’m transexual.’

“Huh!” he looked exited! “Wow, I never thought I’d meet a.”

“Boy?” I grinned. Lying through my teeth, but I had to say something, so I nodded.

“Yeah, boy.” He looked me over, and frowned, confused. “Like you, but you don’t dress like a Tomboy?”

“I’m not, and besides, my parents don’t buy me boy clothes.” Digging deeper, and deeper, but it was fun. Making it up as I go along, and seeing him believe it.

“So, you haven’t gotten. It cut off. Yet?”

“Oh, no!” I laughed. “I’m 100% all natural.” He thought I ment the other way, a girl trapped in a boy body, so I needed breast implants, instead of a girl, pretending to be a boy, to fool a gay boy into fooling around. “Ooh,” I felt his arm. “I love your muscles.” Across the short sleeve of his button-up pullover, until I found his nipple.

“Uh!” His eyes drooped, like he was falling asleep, and he let out another quiet moan.

‘you like that,’ I whispered, and smelt the sweat in his hair again, ‘huh?’ I just rubbed circles around it, but not too hard. Let alone pinched it, since I’d never seen him do that, but after he was just rubbing it through his shirt so long, I was afraid that it might already be a little sore, so I was careful, not to rub it too roughly.

He loved it, so he didn’t have to answer, and I pushed his shoulder, gently. Pulled his arm, and remembering how I thought about Calvin. In bed, with my fingers between my legs, rubbing the crotch of my panties in, imagining they were his hands all over me instead of my own.

The thing is, he’s so big, and way up there. I just bet he imagined the exact same thing. Standing over him, while i went down, and felt down his shirt. Pulled the front out, where he sloppily tried to stuff it in, then pulling out the elastic.

“Huh!” Stretch jeans. I didn’t even know they even made stretch jeans for boys, but sure enough. They even had the brass studs between the pockets, and the seams, but no 5th pocket, because there not Levis, I guess. I’m not about to check the tag to see who made it, when I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I just pulled them down, to find plaid boxers underneath.

“Calvin Klein.” I read, from the wasteband. “Nice!”

“I got them for Christmas, ” he nodded, “Just like him, you like them?”

I nodded, “But I’m a little more interested in what’s inside.” I rubbed him through the fabric, and of course it’s not as big as I imagined. For 1 thing, he’s not 10′ tall, so if you think about it, that would make his dick at least. Well, almost twice as big as if he were only 6′ tall, so. 10 inches, maybe?

I never even imagined a boy, so into his nipples, but when I looked up. Sure enough, he was looking up at the sign again. Only this time, he was rubbing both nipples, through his shirt.

“Inside, or outside?”

“Huh?” He shook his head, and looked down. “Oh yeah, I guess we better go inside, huh?” Pulling up his pants, before I overdid it, but it’s okay, I can wait. It’s part of the game, waiting, and taking it slow makes it last. Longer then some teenage boy, wetting himself while he gropes you in the back seat, before you even get it out.

What? I’m precocious, and an early bloomer, i guess. Ever since I was 9, and started getting all this attention in class. Looking at my chest, and watching things develop day after day, but you know how 4th grade boys are? Well, I guess not, unless you’re one of those gay child molesters, or a Priest, or something.

“Here,” he had to “Help me up.” Since we don’t have the boards, and the lock to climb up on, but that makes sense. You put up a fence to keep people out of your yard, so it wouldn’t do to put the boards outside like a ladder, let alone the padlock for someone to pick.

He jumped, and I heard him hit the other side when I dropped down. Then he scrambled up, and over.

“You know, I ment inside your shorts, or outside, right?”

“Huh?” he shook his head, and caught his breath, but he sure doesn’t talk much. Good, I like how shy he is. Probably hiding the secret of being gay from the other boys. It’s always the quiet ones, you kinda have to wonder what there hiding, unless you catch them at it looking at a giant poster of a male model.

“Do you rub it off in your shorts, or through them? Like your nipples, in your shirt?”

“Oh,” he shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes inside, and sometimes outside, but since we’re outside.” He looked up. at the back porch, and the stairs up to the kitchen door. “You want to infite me in, or are your parents home?” He said Invite, like infight, I guess.

“Yeah,” I took his hand, “Come on up. There’s a real nice view out my mom, and dad’s window. If you need to look at him, to get in the mood.”

He looked, at me funny. I couldn’t tell what that ment, until he shook his head. “You’re not really a boy, are you?”

“What makes you say that?” I opened the door, and held it for him.

“You don’t talk like a boy, or think like one. More like a girl.” He nodded, “But it’s okay. I like it, I like you too.” He squoze my hand, so I let go, and patted him on the shoulder.

“Ladies first,” I joked, and pulled the door shut behind us. He looked around, all a sudden nervous again.

“Uh,” he didn’t laugh. “You have anything to drink? I’m thirsty.”

“Yeah,” I went over to the fridge. “Bud, Bud Light, Chablis, Merlot…”

“What’s Shablie?”

“White wine.” I got us a glass from the dish rack. “It’s my favorite, you want to try it?” Of course, fags like white wine. I knew that.

“Sure.” So, I went back to the fridge, and tapped the box, but I didn’t tell him that my mom mostly uses it for cooking.

Hes’ still nervous, his hands are shaking, so the wine sloshes around in the glass, and he doesn’t know how to hold it, but he manages to slurp a drink, without spilling it.

Then, he smacks his lips, and makes a face, when the aftertaste kicks in. “It’s weird.” He hands me it back, so i take a sip. Without swirling it any more, or sniffing it. Since I already know what it tastes like.

“Sip! How so?” I wait for the grapey sweetness to slowly turn into the dry crisp bite of a green apple.

He shakes his head, “It’s just kinda bitter, and tangy, so it makes you even thirstier.”

“Want more?” I hand it over, and this time, he tries to hold it properly. By the stem, and the bottom, like me, instead of his hands cupped around it, to warm it up. Or make his hands cold, I hope his hands aren’t cold when he starts to calm down, so we can get back in the mood.


Kyle (Gm. Again, G is for Tweenage girl, but she’s going to lie about her age. So, also Lies…)

“Huh!” I stalled until her folks got home, with her older brother, and oh yeah. I don’t even know his name, but he’s in high school, and he works over at the grocery store. Mostly in the fruits, and vegetable department, but if you wait for the truck to show up from the farmer’s Market. You get to see him pulling the palates, with his arms bulging in his short sleeve shirt, when it’s nice out.

Too bad he had his jacket on, and a turtleneck under it, but she ran water in the sink. Poured out the wine, and rinsed out the glass, to put it back before they came back to the kitchen.

“What’s he doing here?” Her dad almost pushed me out of the way to get between him, and her.

“I just need to use the bathroom,” I looked around, “This way?”

His mom showed me, the little one down the stairs, and I heard her brother going up them over me. Her fighting with her dad, or him reminding her about letting boys in the house, when she’s alone there.

“But dad!” I just shut the door, and tried to calm down. Shook my head, but it wasn’t even a little fuzzy from just a couple sips of wine. Good thing I really had to pee, and I couldn’t keep it up with the panic attack starting.

I guess that’s what it is, I don’t know, really. She’s just a girl, and I never got like that with a girl before, event though I watched my boy friends.

“Huh!” I wish, at least one of them was, a little gay. I just shook it off, and flushed, before her dad got suspicious. If I stayed in there too long, he might get the wrong idea, when. I guess he got the right idea, but she managed to calm him down, before I flushed, and washed my hands.

The mom was waiting for me, she didn’t say anything, but she rolled her eyes, and went in to drop the seat after me. Oops, my mom is a stickler for the toilet seat too, i just forgot, but she came right back out, and didn’t even close the door.

“Thanks, I’m just gonna go. But thanks, for letting me use your lovely restroom.”

She smiled a little. Good, I managed to think of a good compliment, for a mom, so whe was flattered instead of mad.

I went out the front, and ran off as soon as my feet hit the ground. I don’t know why I was so scared, she’s just a girl, and yeah all that stuff with her folks, and getting a glimpse of her big brother, before he went upstairs, to take his jacket off.

His turtleneck, so i can finally see his bare chest, his dark nipples, and rippling abs. I stopped, and rubbed my tummy, but not like. Anybody was around to see it, and even if they did, I could lie and say I’m hungry and not horny.

God, I’m so horny lately, but at least that’s better than feeling scared of a girl. She’s weird, and really. I don’t know what to call it. Girly, yeah. With long hair, bangs, and freckles. The kinda face that most boys would call pretty, I guess, but it’s not the way she looked, or dressed.

it’s the way she acted, that made me feel more like Little red Riding hood, and she looked at me like The Big Bad Wolf? Like a piece of meat, I guess the way I looked at the Calvin Klein model, and her big brother too. It’s just weird when a girl does that, and sure you hear stories, but they’re boy’s room stories, so you don’t know whether or not to believe them.

“She was all over me,” one would say, then “Yeah right,” another wood. “Shrimp, what’s a girl going to see in a little wimp like you?”

“Well? I don’t know. Huh! I don’t know anything about girls, because they’re weird, and they don’t talk to boys.”

Of course, but now, I don’t know. Since it was Jeremy, and he’s not that little, really. i didn’t want to say anything, even though I know that hurt his feelings, I was too scared to stick up for him, because I’m ashamed of myself for seeing what a girl would see in him.

So, I kept my mouth shut, but also, he likes girls. Otherwise, he wouldn’t make up stories about them, or go with one when she smiled at him, and waved him over to go make out in the restroom.

“Huh!” I never thought it would happen to me though, and I always imagined a man. Not a scary man, but a stranger nonetheless, because I don’t know any gay men like that, and the man of my dreams is just a poster up by the highway. A billboard, as out of reach as he would be, if I was ever so lucky to meet him in the first place, because he’s a man, and a model. he probably lives in LA, or somewhere romantic, like Europe?

I guess, he kinda looks Italian, except for the hair. That’s light brown, and too short to tell if it’s curly, or straight. Kinky, and gay, like his pubes, and the stiff waves under his arms. “Snh!” I can almost smell his sweat, and just imagine his nipple right there, but I better get off the street, before somebody sees my boner, and asks me about it.

“Hhihnehahuh!” I froze, and my skin crawled. “I knew you’d come back.” I froze up, so she didn’t have to chase me, catch me, and hold my arms, so her soft chest squished against my back. ‘inside, or outside?’

I tried to shrug, then shook my head. I wanted to say no, neither, but I choked up, and she wasn’t hugging me hard enough to squeeze the breath out of me, but I’m breathless. Helpless, and just giving into her hands all over my body. Any hands, feeling me the way I always liked to, as if they were my hands, but they’re so small, and skinny. Her breasts pressed against her back a constant reminder that she’s a girl, she lied about being a boy to lure me in, and came this close to.

“Huh!” She rubbed it through my pants, but I was already hard thinking about.

What was I thinking about?


I shook my head, and finally managed to say “No.”

“Outside then. Huh, don’t hold back, we don’t have much time, and my dad’s probably going to come looking for me. So you don’t want him to catch us together like this?”

“UH! Huh!” i can’t believe it. “Hhuhuhuhuh!”

Even over the blood thumping in my ears, like the Bass through the walls of the night club so loud i can hear it walking past to check out the gay guys waiting in line to get carded, and let in.


That laugh.

She patted it, and kissed my neck.

“See you later?” i swallowed, and tried to catch my breath, but she skipped off before i even shook my head. My knees felt weak, and I didn’t have her to hold me up, so I just let myself slide down the side of the ditch, and curled up on the cold cold ground.

Why am I crying? I better not tell the boys about that, when I tell them what happened, but finally, I have a tail to tell them.

I’ll just leave out the part about not wanting it, and crying after.


Background Music:

Henry Mancini – “Cat and Mouse” (Victor/Victoria OST)

Sometimes, I like to listen to something while I write. If you like, you can play it while you read:


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  • Reply Linda ID:4f864tv3

    Drop the constant “huh”. It’s fucking annoying.

  • Reply woody ID:bo2qeotm1

    You know if you really want some cock. I’d love to be your first… woodyulive58@gmail

    • Psiberzerker ID:1fr6k6ud4

      You know, you threatened not to read any more of my stories, because they’re not satisfying?

      Also, this is a fantasy. I’m a middle aged grandma.