"For fucks sake dad, I want to do this. I'm fine with it. I'm okay with it. I'm not just humouring you, I want to do this, so shut up asking questions and take the fucking pictures."
My dad must be the least decisive man in existence. Other men can lead armies into war knowing that the fate of thousands of men lies only with their cast iron belief in their own ability as a commander. My father second guesses himself half a dozen times when choosing his breakfast cereal. Which is a shame, because he has a brilliant mind, he just has no faith in it anymore. Mum used to deal with the organisation and all the dull stuff, but the accident left me and him alone. I think he still blames himself for it, somewhere, and that's made it even worse.
So, he was left with a ten year old daughter and no idea how to raise her. I think he did an okay job. Four years later and I'm not in a gang, never had a detention and have a fun group of friends. Okay, so I swear a lot at home, but so what? Everybody swears these days. I bet you, in ten years time, we'll see the Prime Minister telling the Leader of the Opposition to go fuck himself. To be fair, if I see either one of them, I'd tell them too.
I know all teenage girls say this, but it's not easy being me. It is a bit harder being me, since my body is refusing to age. Seriously, not a sign of puberty. No tits. No hair. No periods. No growth. I look like a fucking ten year old. It's some bizarre syndrome that affects only one in a million or something, where bits of my body don't respond to the puberty hormones. Or at least if they do so, they are very lethargic about it. The doctors say the hormones are there, and yes, I do think about sex a lot, but on the other hand, I look like a kid. My face hasn't even aged.
So, boys are interested in boobs, butts and legs. Well, I haven't got any boobs; got a boyish bum and my legs are still pretty spindly. What am I meant to do, wave an Equal Opportunities Flag around and beg for pity dates? I've got boys who are friends, but none of them see me as a girl, at least not a girl like the others in my class.
Sod them though, the way my body is aging, I'm gonna live forever!!
Four years time, I'm off to university and everywhere I go, it'll be ID checks. I bet you, on my thirtieth birthday, I'll not be able to buy drinks even if I show a driving license and a passport. Takes the fucking piss, Sally is two weeks older than me, and can get beer at the local offie, no need for ID. Okay, that's not quite fair; I think that is partly because Sally is blowing the owner.
So, last week I was venting to my dad about this. Yeah, that's a good thing about my dad, I can talk to him about this kind of stuff. He is very open-minded. I had 'The Talk' from Mum and Dad before the accident, and since them Dad has reassured me that as long as I'm happy and whatever happens in my love life is at my own pace, he trusts me and is fine with it. I wish things were going at my own pace rather than at sloth speed. Anyway, back to the story, so I turned to my dad.
"It's so fucking unfair. Everybody else can get a boy. The only guys who'll find me sexy are creeps on the Internet. And blind guys. Blind guys who don't like boobs. I should just go and suck off the first boy in dark glasses with a Labrador I find then make him marry me." I waited for him to interject, but no, he as thinking. "Dad? Dad?"
"We could do that. Yeah, that could work..."
"What the blind guy thing? No I'm more of a cat person, and there ain't no way he'd ever have a guide cat. It'd be fine for the first few yards, then it'll say fuck you and drag you up the nearest fence."
"No, no, don't be silly. We could make money of the Internet creeps. Well, you can make. Actually, we can, well, mostly you."
"Pocket money or university funds or petrol money; maybe put cash by for a car for you."
"Dad, what are you on about?"
"Come on, look, I want to show you something." Dad went over to the computer that he'd been using earlier. He opened up a new browser window and googled teenage underwear models. After checking a few links, he pointed to a site. "We could do one of these."
A girl, who certainly did not look like a teenager, was posing in some rather skimpy clothing, arranged so that you could just about see the outline of her cunt in the white cloth covering it. Other girls were posing provocatively. All their 'privates' were covered but only just. In the middle of the page there were a few links to sites for individual girls. Clicking though one, we found a couple of preview pages then a page asking for thirty dollars for a month's membership.
"Dad, how did you find this?"
"A couple of years ago, when you were talking about modelling, I looked it up, and found these. Obviously, didn't do anything with them, but I was kind of glad that you'd didn't take modelling seriously."
"Well, look. These girls are not teens, do they really know why they are posing? If you did one of these, at least you'd know. You'd be doing it willingly and by your own choice. Also, not only do you look as young as these girls, you're far prettier."
I smiled at him for that. "Isn't this, you know, condoning it or leading to more abuse or something?"
He thought for a moment. "If the market wasn't there already, then yes, but there is a market. If there are dodgy people out there, why not make some money from them? In fact, why not take money from them that would otherwise fund those preteen girls' sites? Isn't that actually morally a good thing?"
"Maybe, I'm off to bed."
"Well, what do you think?"
"Maybe you're right. Maybe it is morally acceptable. Maybe it's a good way of making a chunk of cash. Or maybe my father just wants to take pervy photos of me."
I left the room while Dad was spluttering his innocence.
So, it took me a couple of days to think it over and agree. Hell, my dad was right, I'd make a cute ten year old in the eyes of the right kind of pervert. Sure we were okay financially, but I would be off to uni in a few years and could do with a nest-egg to bankroll me. Save up now and I could even have a holiday in a few years.
When I told dad that I'd do it, he set to work. Mum used to work as a portrait photographer, so we still had all her old gear in the loft. Sure, the camera was out of date, but there was a bunch of flash guns, umbrella things and that kind of gubbins up there.
He took a couple of pics of me in my school uniform, well white blouse, grey pleated skirt and white ankle socks. My mousy-brown hair was in bunches, but I decided against any make-up. While he was fussing about with trying to get the camera set up, I undid an extra button on the blouse and rolled the hem of my skirt up a fraction more. He let me play with them a bit on Photoshop to get the levels right before he emailed them to one of the sites.
It was a couple of days before the site emailed back asking for a set of photos and offering a couple of hundred quid via paypal. Dad and I agreed that we'd buy a new camera (I agreed after Dad conceded that it would be my camera) and use the money we get from the site to pay that off before I started to get any.
Dad set up the lights and stuff in my room while I changed into my school uniform in the bathroom. We took about forty photos in all, starting off fairly safe, then moving more risqué. There were a few shots of me on my front with my skirt riding up higher and higher, giving a few view of my white cotton panties. Another couple were taken from the front showing my blouse undone and open, not quite showing nipples. Then a few more with me sitting up, legs apart and blouse open.
Dad seemed born for this, commanding and energetic, encouraging me to relax into it. The process was over in just a few minutes. After I set about them on Photoshop, we had twenty photos to send off.
The site emailed back within a day asking for three more sets of photos and sending us four hundred quid. They also gave us the web address of a clothing site where they had set up an account for us with another two hundred to spend. Aside from the swimwear and some underwear, most of the clothes were things I'd never wear outside the house. In fact, if I wasn't shooting these photos, I'd never even wear those clothes in the house. Even the swimwear was much more revealing than I'd ever consider wearing in public. I spent a rather fun hour or two looking at other models then figuring out what'd be most fun.
Over the next few weeks we shot dozens of sets of pictures. Some in normal clothes, but in sexy poses, others in the more revealing Internet clothes. One day I was in a bikini, the next I was in a genie costume with silk only covering my boobs and cunt. Some of the t-shirts were almost see-through, so you could see my nipples clearly though the material.
Countless times I posed with my arse in the air, pointing it at the camera, pulling panties, g-strings and thongs into my arse crack. I didn't know what the guys at home paying for these were thinking, but judging by the boner my dad used to sport by the end of each session, they'd love them.
.... There is more of this story ...