Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Title: Miss Baby West Virginia by: Ophelia's Fever Codes: Fg, sm, ped, toy, humil Summary: Who needs Toddlers and Tiaras when there is the ultra secret, underground Miss Baby Pageant? Girls are scored on all the things that really matter in a little girl: cuteness, tears, obedience, and interview. This is the third part of a series. Will Miss Baby West Virginia score high in the talent competition? This wonderful story idea was born out of a series of exchanges with a friend. Enjoy! Message me to root for your state, the most votes will determine which state's little princess will become "Miss Baby USA"! Disclaimer: This is a literary work intended for adult (18+) audiences. By reading my story you consent to the understanding that this is a work of fiction for adults. All characters are a figment of my imagination for entertainment purposes only. The crowd was hushed and expectant. This is not the first time Miss Baby West Virginia has wowed the crowd, her explosive rise began two years ago at the precocious age of 5. Now, a veteran of the Pageant, everyone has high hopes for what this little girl can do. It is also well known within the pageant circuit that one of the best handlers of the business is the Mother of this very same participant. Millions of dollars have been offered to this handler for the training of their own children but as it has been whispered about during intermission that this handler, "Had to do right by home, first." It is with this hushed and excited reverence that the audience awaits for tonight. The announcer steps up smartly to the edge of the stage, glaring pale in the strong spotlights. :Ladies and Gentleman, Daddies and little girls, Owners and the owned, I now present to you Miss Baby West Virginia for the Talent portion: The crowd erupts into applause, the room zinging electric with sensual anticipation. Mouths are held off dicks, hands are pushed away from clits, everyone waiting in the humid hall for what is to come. The spotlight focuses on a small figure entering stage left. Long, bright red hair in pigtails, each end a ringlet of curls. Her small 7 year old frame is barefoot, wearing a checkered shirt, knotted up to reveal her tummy while her bottom half is ensconced by a tight and very short jean skirt. Her `hill billy' style is topped off with a piece of wood in one hand, and a small whittling knife in the other. Miss Baby West Virginia moves to the lone bale of hay center stage, and has she does, her handler and Mother enters stage left. The crowd is quiet in grave respect for the competency of this handler, who arrives wearing an identical outfit to her daughter. The handler's jean skirt is also incredibly tight and high, the audience can clearly see the bottom twin globes of her ass and her remarkable bald slit whenever she so much as thinks about bending. The scene is zen in its simplistic perfection. The audience notices that the handler has no implement. This is an unusual choice and well noted. The Mother-handler simply stands diagonal to her child and watches, everyone is rapt while Miss Baby West Virginia, silently and competently, begins to whittle. The audience murmurs, `What could she be making? What is this for?' but they are patient amused. In about 5 minutes, Miss Baby West Virginia had whittled a long handled wooden spoon; the type a housewife would stir a pot of soup with, the ultimate symbol of domesticity. The handle however is much thicker than normal. Miss Baby West Virginia pulls a small piece of sandpaper from her pocket and begins to sand it, grinding down the splinters into smooth, gleaming wood. The audience murmurs in delight at what Miss Baby West Virginia has made. Looking up at her Mommy/handler, Miss Baby West Virginia hands over the wooden spoon with both hands. Her Mommy gently receives the kind offering with one hand and with the other, she pushes her daughter down against the hay bale by the shoulder, pushing, pushing, pushing, until all that the audience can see is glorious, magnificent, perfect little girl snatch between two splayed legs along the bale. Miss Baby West Virginia's Mother uses her equally bare foot to push her daughter's knees even wider. "Hold them" she commands and the audience, from their vantage point see two small, translucent white fingers grip her bony knees and hold. The Mother/handler then turns around to face the crowd. She pulls up her already impossibly short skirt and in front of God, the Devil and everyone else, pushes her daughter's whittled soup spoon handle deep into her twat. Working the spoon in and out of her cunt, which, if the audience had bothered to noticed, was running wet, dripping down her legs in desire. The audience watches as the handle of the white pine spoon darken under the Mother's juices, the Mommy/handler looking out into the crowd defiant, her lascivious her hand pumping away into her cunt. Until, finally pulling it out of her pussy, freeing itself from the long labia that dangled between her well fucked slit; Miss Baby West Virginia's Mommy/handler then takes the handle to her daughter's waiting, impossibly fragile, impossibly small bald pussy. Miss Baby West Virginia has a delicious puffy lipped pussy with delicate, rosebud pink folds and the smallest, most fragile clit imaginable. Her vaginal opening as tiny as can be. Her Mother advances... :Miss Baby West Virginia was verified to be deflowered only yesterday, ladies and gentlemen! This will be the second time that something has been in her pussy.: The announcer chimes in. Taking the tip of the spoon, her Mommy/handler begins to deftly touch her clit, tip to tip, gently rubbing and working Miss Baby West Virginia's sweet little nub. The audience can see her thin thighs straining as her Mother/handler take the long handle and begins to rub the length of her naked pussy back and forth, back and forth. Miss baby West Virginia whimpers into the hot stage air, her slim hips pumping against the spoon handle already lovingly lathered by her Mommy. The audience becomes a bit more audible, the air punctuated with slurps and moans as the viewers take their own pleasure in solidarity. Mommy/handler then abruptly takes the tip of the wider than normal wooden spoon and circles it around the baby mouth of her daughter's sweet pink hole. The audience becomes hushed, expectant, demanding even; they want it all. Mommy/handler slowly eases the tip into her daughter's girl flesh, the tight hole straining even around this small violation. The camera crew zoom into her little pussy, it's raping viewed by all on the wide screen TVs throughout the house. Miss Baby West Virginia's vaginal skin becomes shiny in the stage light, stretched to max capacity, it pulls itself along as the handle is deftly retracted from her 7 year old canal as if unwilling to give up its own desolation. Mommy/handler begins to pick up the pace, allowing only a few inches inside of her daughter before bringing it out again, intentionally trying to get her girl to cum. "Mommy!" cries out Miss Baby West Virginia in the hallowed air. The audience can see the build up. Mommy/handler increasing the pace, Miss Baby West Virginia' thighs beginning to close up, the trembling increasing, it is obvious that our little girl is about to cum. Her hands, sweaty-palmed begin to slip from her knees. The girl begins a high pitched moaning and just as she, as every heart clutched in the audience begins to orgasmic descent into chaos, Miss Baby West Virginia's Mommy/handler yanks the wooden spoon handle out of her tiny convulsing pussy and in a deft move swiftly upends the spoon and begins the rain crashing smacks on her baby girl's pulsating cunt. The wide screen TVs captured the complete and glorified moment between bliss, so pure and rare on a young little girl, to the next second of shock, then the next second of longing to the next second of pain, to the next second of anguish. Each moment a perfect scene rapid fire they traveled across her delicate nose, tiptoed through her freckles, shuddered down her slim pale body to arrive to the only place meaningful, the only place that has any sense, her sopping wet baby twat. Mommy/handler beats Miss Baby West Virginia's pussy with the back of the business end of the spoon, and the hall is filled with the sounds of wood hitting wet flesh; whap, whap, whap! Miss Baby West Virginia's pussy shrinks back, not unlike a sea anemone, once flowering in the sea withdraws under attack, but the audience admires how well Miss Baby West Virginia is now holding her knees despite the assault, and she does not falter. The world fell in love with Miss Baby West Virginia on that day. Miss Baby West Virginia's bald pussy is now a canvas of concentric welts from the spoon, her thighs similarly beaten, the pale skin of a redhead flushing beautifully under pain and pressure. "Mommy!" she cries out again, in anguish; her pussy glowing hot, her asshole convulsing, but still obedient. Miss Baby West Virginia is a very good girl indeed. "Down!" Mommy/handler quietly commands after the pussy spanking and Miss Baby West Virginia scrambles down on all fours, facing the back of the stage. Mommy/handler pulls up what is left of Miss Baby West Virginia's skirt, and, spitting on her daughter's little asshole, slowly and carefully inserts the handle of the spoon up her precious daughter's ass. Inch by inch it glides in and the audience sighs, until only a few inches are left and the spoon itself, of course. "Mommy..." Miss Baby West Virginia moans, this time in utter defeat. The audience is hooked on this scene, satisfied with every aspect of this demonstration. Mommy/handler bows to the crowd, and Mommy, and Miss Baby West Virginia exit stage left. Miss Baby West Virginia crawling on all fours with the spoon she whittled, snuggled deep in her ass. Reverentially, the announcer takes center stage, the audience is stunned into erotic silence. Miss Baby West Virginia did an extraordinarily good job. :Well, who can follow that, eh folks? That handler is something else! I am left rather speechless and so let's just go straight to our Judges" The announcer steps smartly over to the ball-gagged women, chained to the floor, eyes straining in wanton desire. :What say you judges? How did Miss Baby Virginia do on Talent?: One by one they lift their score cards for all to see; 10, 9, 9, 10, 10, 9, 9, 10 and incredibly high, almost impossible number to beat. :The results are in and our sweet Miss Baby West Virginia earns herself an incredibly high 76 points in the Talent portion of today's pageant. What a runaway show that was, folks! I hear that Miss Baby West Virginia is safely on her Mommie's lap, suckling away her upset so not to fret, not to fret.: The announcer says, stepping up to the audience at the lip of the stage. :Are you ready for more, Daddy's and girls?: The announcer rings out. The audience applauses, recovering from the intensity of the last performance. :Would you like to see Miss Baby New York fill this room with sass?: teases the announcer, and the crowd roars, for this event is being held in New York City itself, and there is always a home advantage. :There you have it folks! Up next is Miss Baby New York for the Interview!: The curtain draws itself closed and the audience entertains itself with yet more slurping and sucking during the small interlude. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Want to participate in my story? Email me at opheliasfever (at) gmail.com and tell me what state's Miss Baby I should include. The most votes for a state will be Miss Baby USA.