"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."

"Dad?"

"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."

"And now?"

"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.

I started getting fan mail, the things that these men wanted to do to me were disgusting. I loved it. I used to read them in bed as I frigged myself silly. I came so many times imagining I was being fucked senseless by lonely thirty year olds, perhaps they were fathers too. Perhaps they were telling me what they really wanted to do to their darling daughters. A legion on men wanting to dump their cum in their innocent little girls, wanting to see that juicy white liquid seeping out of their little pussies or dripping off their chins and onto their flat chests. Fucking hell I needed somebody to shag me.

Then I started finding new sites, gone was any pretence that they were for fashion, these were porn. Girls aged six or seven sucking cocks, dicks being ploughed into pre-teen girls. Twelve and thirteen year olds lezzing out with each other, or boys and girls fucking. I wanted in. I wanted pictures on the Internet of me being violated. And I knew that I wanted my dad to be fucking me in them.

I realised that he was going to have to be my first. We were both lonely souls. This 'project' had brought us closer together, and I knew now that he found me sexy and I knew that I loved looking sexy for him. I loved that I gave him wood, and the thoughts in my head keep telling me to just unzip his trousers and suck him off there and then.

I couldn't just step up from suggestive to full out hardcore. The next shoot was another underwear set. We'd covered Dad's bed in a claret coloured sheet and cushion. While dad set up the camera and lighting, I went to my room and changed into a white cotton bra and panties set. These were Spongebob Squarepants underwear. Can't stand the little shit, but I thought they'd be a certain irony in using them for my first nude shoot. I put on a denim short-sleeved shirt, but left it undone.

I walked into the bedroom and Dad's eyes looked me over. He smiled as his eyes glanced over my flat tummy and down my long legs. I sat down on the bed, and went through the process. I started off sweet and innocent, and then got more suggestive, spreading my legs and then showing my butt. I turned around and unhooked the bra, letting my dad photograph my bare back. I told him to carry on with the pictures and I turned around, covering my chest with my arms, before slowly dropping them, giving the camera (and my dad) a first look at my boobs, such as they were.

I raised my legs in the air, like I'd done many times before, but this time I rolled down my panties and kicked them off. The camera was clicking faster now as I opened my legs to show him my pussy. Inspired by my dad's hungry look, I started to finger myself, rubbing my snatch and clit. Hidden in the cushions, I'd left my latest purchase, a cream coloured vibrator. This was soon out and buzzing away on my clit. Turned on my the camera, by my father and just how dirty this was, I was clutching at the fabric and writhing around, feeling hornier and nastier than I had ever been before. My dad was encouraging me, demanding that I fuck myself, willing me to cum, telling me how beautiful I was. Man, did I cum hard, screaming, I exploded inside; all my senses flooded my lust. Exhausted, I fell asleep moments afterwards.

I awoke to find that Dad had just covered me up with the velvet cloth and left me to sleep. I smiled, knowing that my plan had gone exactly as I'd hoped.

The next few weeks were even more fun. Instead of the clothed poses, revealing almost everything except enough for all but the feeblest imaginations to fill in the gaps, I was let off the leash. Actually, sometimes Dad put me on a leash and walked me around the house as a naked puppy while snapping away, but that is by-the-by. He took pictures of me naked, of me masturbating, fingers in my snatch, fruit and veg up my vag, various bits of electronics too. He snapped me in the bath, having a shower and having a piss. That was really fun. I wasn't as keen on the one where I drunk my own pee, but it was so dirty it was always going to be fun.

You wouldn't believe the money my unaging body was generating. The vanilla thirty dollars a month site had tens of thousands of subscribers. The not so vanilla site charged five times as much and got about half as many perves. Sure the hosts took half of the money, but shit, this was real cash coming to us. I imagined the ultimate shoot, me doing a Scrooge McDuck, swimming in all the money, naked swimming. Except I'm guessing coins would actually hurt if you dived into them, and our money was all online or in banks.