Author: Lizard69
Title: Asperger's
Part: complete
Summary: Getting what you need isn't always what you want.
Keywords: Mm reluctant nc
This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary
between fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If the story codes following the
title freak you out, don't read it.  If I mis-coded drop me a note through
the author email link at ASSTR.  Do not under any circumstances forward
this file to anyone that hasn't specifically requested it.  In case you
haven't figured it out yet this is intended as *adult* entertainment.  Do
not allow it to be accessed by minors.  If you have inadvertently
downloaded it in a jurisdiction where such material isn't legal please
delete it immediately.  Do not re-post in whole or in part without this
notice.  Do not repost on any "for profit" site without my specific written
permission.  Copyright 2015 by Lizard69.

Asperger's (Mm, nc, reluctant)
By Lizard69



   The kid was obviously upset.  Upset?  Hell, he was damn near going off
the deep end.  Unable to remain seated on the park bench, he was also
unable to decide on a course of action.  Before getting more than a half
dozen steps in any direction he'd loop back and plop down on the bench once
more.

   I couldn't resist.  If I scared him off, oh well.  At least he'd be
going somewhere instead of mentally and physically running in circles.  He
spotted me almost the moment I started moving in his direction.  Either he
was too scared or not scared enough.  That "bunny in the headlights" freeze
kept him on the bench until I'd sat down next to him.  When he did finally
try to bolt my hand on his shoulder put him back down like a puppet with
its strings cut.

   "Look kid.  I'm not any sort of professional social worker.  It's still
plain as day that you're on the edge of coming unglued.  Was it your first
time with a grownup?"

   "It was my first time with anybo...  NO!...  I didn't mean...  Nothing
happened!"

   "Kid...  I'm not trying to be mean or get you in trouble.  You weren't
doing a very good job of pretending everything was fine.  From what you've
said so far I should call the cops.  I can have you talking to a detective
in fifteen minutes.  In another fifteen or twenty at the most he'll know
enough to start looking for the guy.

   "Oh God!!  NO!  Please don't do that.  I'll get in so much trouble. 
Please, just let me go home."

   "Don't be stupid.  You're what?  Eleven?"

   "Twelve."

   "OK.  Twelve years old.  You're five foot nothin' and if you weigh
eighty pounds soaking wet you've got rocks in your pockets.  You're also
cute as a puppy.  A horny old perv would cross the street without checking
traffic to take a shot at getting in your pants.  Maybe you've figured out
how to masturbate but it wouldn't shock me to find out you haven't even
done that yet.  Regardless, you're still a *kid*."

   For a while he sat there staring at his sneakers.  If I hadn't been
listening closely I might not have heard his reply.

   "I'm a whole lot older than I was this morning."

   "Maybe you're right.  But you're still a kid and you're carrying a
heavier secret than a lot of adults could handle.  Telling somebody is the
only way to share the load.  Who you tell or what they think isn't
important.  Being able to tell somebody *is*."

   "But I'll get in trouble!"

   "You're already in trouble.  I'll make you a deal.  You tell me what
happened.  Everything.  Answer any questions I have about the embarrassing
details.  When I know the whole story I'll make a few suggestions.  What
you do about it is totally up to you."

   "For real?  You'll let me go and not tell anybody?"

   "If that's what you really want.  Start at the beginning.  How did you
meet him?"

   "Here at the park.  He sat down next to me and asked if I'd be part of a
survey he was taking.  Then he started asking me questions.  Things like
what TV shows I watched and what kinds of snack foods I liked.  He had
questions in all sorts of categories but it was kind of fun.  I don't have
many friends and he listened like what I was saying really mattered.  When
he was done he thanked me, got up, and started to leave.  Then he came back
and said he didn't usually do this but I'd done really well on the survey
questions.  I'd given him my real opinions instead of trying to give the
answers I thought he might be looking for.  It would take another hour or
so but it would help him a lot if I could come to his office.  I was
exactly the kind of person he needed to take the extended survey and do a
little product testing.

   "Well, I really didn't have anything to do.  After twenty minutes of
telling him everything about me it wasn't like I was going somewhere with a
stranger.  Only...  he was a little strange.  The longer I was with him the
stranger he got.  His office was in a house not some office building.  It
was like a doctors exam room.  He put on a white coat and one of those
things doctors use to listen to your heart.  Then he started asking what he
called 'health and wellness' questions.  How tall I was and how much I
weighed on my last birthday.  He had me get on a fancy scale like they have
in the nurses office at school.  Then he had me unbutton my shirt so he
could listen to my heart.  He took out a tape measure and asked me to lower
my pants a couple inches so he could measure my waist.  Then he pulled on a
rubber glove and asked me to drop my pants enough that he could check my
development and make sure I never had a hernia.

   "God!  I feel so stupid!  I was standing there with my shirt unbuttoned
and my pants around my knees trying not to think about where he was
touching me.  After a while I started thinking I'd never had a 'hernia'
check that took more than a couple of seconds.  Then I realized I was
getting a stiffy and started to blush and tried to pull up my pants but his
hands were in the way.  He told me this wasn't a normal reaction and he
didn't want to scare me but he really should check a couple more things and
make a note for me to take to my regular doctor.  He had me lay down on
this leather couch and it was a little better because I was face down and
he couldn't see my dick.  Then he slipped off my shoes and before I could
even say anything pulled off my pants and underwear.

   "I'm not totally dumb.  By then I was pretty sure he wasn't any kind of
doctor.  But...  well...  I wanted him to be a doctor.  Because if he was a
doctor this whole thing wouldn't be so creepy.  Then I felt something wet
on the crack of my ass and the tip of his finger poking into my asshole. 
After a while he was using two fingers and I was crying and wishing real
hard that I was somewhere else.  He might have been using three when he
stopped and stood up.  I wanted to run but he told me if I tried to leave
he'd shove his whole fist up my ass.  After he took his pants off he got on
top of me and...  and...  he...  uh, I guess he fucked me.

   He weighed a ton.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't breathe.  It *HURT*. 
Like making a huge turd only it was being pushed in instead of coming out.
Then all of a sudden he was done.  He pulled me up off the couch.  I tried
to stand up but my knees kept bending.  Then he saw my stiffy and started
laughing.  He was telling me that if I ever told anyone he'd make sure
everyone found out I got hard while he was doing it.

   So, can I go now?  There's no way I'm going to talk to a cop."

   "If you don't tell he'll get away with it.  Even if he doesn't come
after you again he'll make some other kid do it.  The only way to stop him
is to let the cops know what he's doing and help them build a good enough
case that a judge will put him in prison."

   "Don't you get it mister?  I DON'T CARE what he does to anybody else. 
I...  I don't even care that much about what he did to me.  It's just... 
if anybody finds out about this I might as well be dead.  I've got, like,
two friends in the whole school and one of them is a couple grades ahead of
me.  Everybody thinks I'm weird.  None of the girls want to be anywhere
near me."

   "Now I get it.  You're an Aspie!"

   "What's that?"

   "You show all the classic signs of having Asperger's syndrome.  You have
trouble reading other peoples body language.  You don't make eye contact.
Your voice doesn't seem to match how you should be feeling.  I'd guess you
can follow the most complicated set of directions, but have no idea of how
to flirt with a girl."

   "Who cares?"

   "You do.  You've spent most of your life getting laughed at for doing
the wrong thing in social situations where everyone else is responding to
non-verbal cues that you miss.  Aspie's get just as horny as anyone else,
but dating and sex are the biggest area where everybody operates
non-verbally.  Well, not quite everybody.  There are some perverts who
think Aspie's are great because they don't complain about being used as
kinky fuck toys."

   "WHAT!?!"

   "Don't act shocked, not after what you just did with that creep."

   "I didn't *DO* anything.  He made me...  I couldn't stop him.  I
couldn't get away."

   "That's right, you didn't do anything.  Did you tell him to stop?  Did
you tell him to let you go home?  Did you even try to leave before he
threatened you?  How about now?  If he drove up right now and told you to
get in his car I bet you'd do it.  Go ahead.  Look me right in the eye and
tell me I'm wrong!"

   That last comment was like shooting fish in a barrel.  If the kid really
was an Aspie he couldn't look me in the eye and recite Mary had a little
lamb.  Eye contact just doesn't work for them.  There was something else. I
couldn't put my finger on it at first then the light came on.  He wasn't
blushing.  A normal kid would have been six different shades of scarlet
telling me these things.  This one was a little white around the gills but
he was plainly more scared than embarrassed.  Suddenly he went into a
boneless slump staring at the pavement between his sneakers, completely
motionless except for his fingers fidgeting in his lap.  Even his voice
sounded washed out but carried a note of certainty.

   "You're going to tell."

   "If that's what you really want.  I'd rather do something else."

   Now even his fingers were still.

   "It...  It hurts."

   "It gets easier.  For now there are other things we can do."

   Another pause, so long I would have said something if I wasn't
determined to wait him out.

   "You won't tell anyone if I go with you?  Not any of it?  Not ever?"

   "Anyone and ever covers a lot of ground.  I don't make promises unless I
know I can keep them.  All you can be sure of is that if anyone finds out
I'll be in deeper trouble than you.  I want to keep this a secret at least
as much as you do.  Is that good enough?"

   "I guess."

   "OK, the blue car at the end of the block isn't locked.  Get into the
passenger seat.  I'll be with you in a minute."

   I made a quick stop at the restroom where I could take a piss and try to
find a more comfortable position for my raging hardon.  Horny twelve year
old boys weren't hard to find.  Even with the occasional late bloomer
there's at least eleven in every dozen.  A kid with Asperger's Syndrome, an
Aspie, was a special prize.  The last I heard they were trying to phase
out, "Asperger's", as a separate diagnosis.  They preferred to lump it in
with the Autism Spectrum developmental disabilities.

   This kid was light years from the basket case in the helmet bumping his
head against a wall.  In fact, if he was like most Aspie's, it was his
parents slamming their heads as they tried to figure out how to deal with
him.  I'd bet my lunch money this one had a permanent personality conflict
with anyone in a position of authority.  The perv who came up with that
survey idea was pretty slick.  While most kids will lap it up when an adult
shows them some attention, they rightly get a little skittish when a
complete stranger shows too much interest.

   Aspie's tend to be almost pathologically shy.  If telling people how
they feel gets them slammed, that's bad enough.  If it gets them slammed in
some random pattern they can't figure out, they learn to shut up real
quick. But it doesn't stop them from *wanting* to be understood and
accepted.  If you give them a framework, a ritual where they don't have to
base their interaction on non-verbal cues, you give them a conduit and a
comfort zone.  Ask them to tell you about themselves and they either clam
up or deliver some sort of sterile biography, scared to death that anything
they say will be like stepping on another social land mine.

   Frame your questions as a, "survey".  Be careful to keep your tone
neutral and not react emotionally to his answers.  Behave like you're
impersonally seeking data, not trying to get to know him.  The difference
is night and day.  A kid so shy he can't publicly recite a common nursery
rhyme will discuss the details of how and how often he masturbates.  Too
bad it's usually a he, male Aspie's are about five times as common as
girls.

   He was waiting in the car when I got there.  During the short trip to my
place, I let him stare at the floorboards and fidget instead of attempting
conversation.  Even after the garage door closed behind us and the engine
was shut off I didn't start pawing him or flirting.  I sat there staring
straight forward through the windshield while he studied the carpet between
his feet.

   "From now on this is how it's going to work.  You're going to give me
your number and a couple times a week I'm going to call you.  When I do,
you'll meet me and we'll come here or some other place that's private. 
You'll work with me creating acceptable excuses.  You will *not* make
people suspicious by dropping whatever you're doing on a moments notice to
take off and meet some anonymous stranger.  Do you understand?"

   "Yes."

   "When you're alone with me I will ask you to do things.  These things
will often, but not always, be sexual in nature.  I will try to give very
detailed, explicit, directions.  You may ask any questions you need to
clarify what I want from you.  You are not permitted to ask why I want you
to do these things.  Do you understand?"

   "Yes."

   "Asking you to do things is a polite way to tell you what I want.  I
expect you to do as you're told.  You may refuse, tell me not to call you,
leave and don't come back.  I will not physically compel you to
participate. If I tie you up before I fuck you, it's because I want to feel
what it's like to fuck a kid who's tied up, not to keep you from getting
away."

   "You mean that?  You're not going to make me do stuff?  I can leave
right now?"

   "Uh-huh, but I don't think you will.  I think you're going to get out of
the car and I'm going to open my door so you can come around and stand next
to me."

   It only took a minute for him to get in position.  Staring straight
forward he followed my directions, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing his
jeans and underpants down around his ankles.  Then he bent forward to rest
his head where the top of my car door was supporting his crossed forearms.

   "Good, but not sideways facing the wall.  Rest your forehead on your
arms and keep your eyes open.  Watch the floor in front of your feet, or
watch what I'm doing to your cock.  It won't make any difference.  I'm
going to jack you off.  You're going to stand there and let a creepy
stranger jerk your pretty little cock until it pops.  As soon as it does,
you're going to say, 'thank you'.

   "If you can do that, I'll let you pull your pants up and give you a ride
home.  Then later tonight when you're in bed waiting to fall asleep, you
can think about how good it felt to have a pervert molesting you.  Or you
could think about me, standing out here bare naked in a dark garage,
jerking myself over and over again until your little spatter of dried boy
juice is completely covered with hot wet man milk."

   I chuckled as the boy boner I was stroking twitched in my hand.

   "Maybe I won't have to wait that long.  Maybe you'll be too embarrassed
or too stubborn to thank me for being nice to you.  If you can't or won't
thank me with words you'll have to do it another way.  You don't really
want that.  You'll do it, sooner or later.  You'd do it right now if I told
you to.  I think it will be more fun for both of us if I break you in
slow."

   I couldn't help teasing him a little, stroking until his hips started
rocking then pulling my hand away to watch his little stiffie wave and
twitch, wanting me to continue.  Finally, he tried to get sneaky.  I felt
him get more and more tense, holding himself rigidly motionless, hoping I'd
get him off before I knew how close he was.  Well, I could fix that.

   "Time for the big finish.  I'm going to hold my hand still while you
fuck it.  Go on, you're not leaving until you cum and that's the quickest
way to get there."

   Oh yeah!  It was quick enough, though harder than I expected to hold my
hand still.  That was partly my own fault.  As I slowly tightened my grip,
he had to push harder and harder to penetrate my fist.  The last few
thrusts were like some sort of convulsion ending with gasps and squeals as
his hurled his load.  His knees wobbled a little but he didn't collapse.  I
could sympathize.  Later I'd be cumming so hard reality would warp for a
moment.  Would he, could he, do the rest of it?  I was about to give up, it
was hardly more than a whisper but clear enough in the silent garage.

   "Thank you."

   Maybe he could still blush.  Maybe he was just flushed from the exertion
as he straightened his clothes and got in the car.  The trip back to the
park involved the same study of the foot well without the fidgeting.

   "You know what you just did isn't normal.  Any other boy your age would
have died of embarrassment before he cut loose that way.  The girls can
sense it.  You don't have the limits other boys have.  Girls need to keep
their distance, unless they want to get raped by a creepy little sex
pervert.  It's kind of sad.  You're cute enough you'd have your pick of
girlfriends if you weren't such a creep.  I want to help.  I can't fix you.
I can't make you the same as other kids.  All I can do is help you learn to
control it, until you can be with a girl without scaring her."

   "You can do that?  Teach me how to get girls to like me?"

   "It won't take any special instruction.  You're already pretty good at
doing what I tell you.  Girls can sense that too.  They like a guy who's
interested in sex but not desperate.  If you have me to do twisted pervert
stuff with, you'll be able to talk to them without tripping on your tongue.
You'll get a lot more tail if you can act like you're already getting
enough to be happy."

   I pulled a random business card out of the glove box and wrote a phone
number on the back.

   "Call me when you're ready for the next lesson.  Don't wait too long. 
Two, maybe three days at the most.  If I have to come looking for you,
you're going to learn the hard way."

   The kid got out of the car.  A few steps into the park he paused and
looked back.  His shy smile and hesitant wave left me thinking it wouldn't
be long before he called.  Or maybe not, he might already be wondering
about the "hard way".

The End?