Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 {Let me just say that while the narrator makes excuses, some of the things
he blames for what he does are normal things, which normal people can
handle.  Likewise, parents try to limit their exposure, or control their
environment, for fear of their children becoming psychopaths, or
homosexual. See how that works?  It doesn't, you don't make a boy start
sexually assaulting people, any more than you make him attracted to his
peers, but this is often where they first get their excuses.  Wouldn't want
you to think that finding father's porn stash (Assuming it's not something
fucked up like Childporn, or Incest stories, and left out to sexually
harass their children) seeing nudity, sex, sharing a room with an opposite
sex sibling, or even wearing "Girls" clothes are formative, nor early
warning signs.  Boys often try on mommy's shoes, because they're neat, and
make them taller.  Just like girls stomp around in daddy's boots, only then
it's cute, because there's nothing "Gay" about it, and infants often touch
themselves, play with their toes, or explore between their legs when the
diaper comes off, and there's nothing sexual about it.

   I actually started out writing things to understand certain pathologies
(Not just the sexual ones, but this is an erotic site) however, sociopaths
try to explain themselves, and lie, and twist the truth (Through
exaggeration, omission, and fantasy) to justify, or excuse their actions,
and can be very convincing.  Quite often, they have to first convince
themselves.  They may also engage in preparatory behaviors, like flashing,
crossdressing, and stalking as part of the plantacy, they may even decide
specifics in their MO because it "Makes sense," or is "Only natural."
That's the pathology talking, not carte blanche to justify doing what
normal people don't, and then blame the victims.

   If anything, environment helps them decide How, over years, to express
their sociopathy, punish women, or take advantage of them.  It may
determine thing in Victimology, for instance the Template of whom they
assault, because they subconsciously remind him of someone, or Where, or
what behaviors trigger them.  This is all theory, pathological fiction, I
don't know what goes through Anger Retaliator's heads because I'm not one,
they mostly act out of subconscious cues, and when they do talk about it,
they lie to try and justify it.  She was asking for, or deserved it.  Look
what she was wearing, what did she expect was going to happen going out
alone, or passing out drunk at a frat party..?

   Sorry, so any way, I've been making up pathologies for a while, and
focusing on what's popular.  (Like mother/daughter/sister incest.) So, I
thought I'd get back to my roots.}

   ;

   Freddy

   She pointed, and giggled.  Again, seems like every morning I woke up
with a tent in my pajamas, or the covers, and her giggles.  It's loud, and
annoying, not to mention embarrassing.  Sonny's not even that little.  I
remember when she was, just playing together, watching TV, or whatever,
she's my sister, and I knew her all my life.

   Then, she got her period.  Okay, it was a little gross, when I found
something bloody, or she kept something stained.  Mom said "We can't afford
to replace it," and took her off to show her how to cover it better.  Start
wearing protection early, because she knows what days it's going to start,
and it doesn't hurt to be prepared.  Okay, well, she got the hang of it? 
She stopped having accidents, just like you learn to stop wetting the bed,
but I kept seeing red.  Subtle little reminders, because she didn't throw
them out, so I did.  In the trash, mom pulled out the sheets, and tore them
up to save the fabric.  For rags, and sewing, I'm glad she never made
anything for me with them, because I can't bear the thought of wearing
something made from bloody sheet.

   Even if she threw out the stained part, so what?  You can't see it, but
I know.  It's gross, they tried to wash it out, and that means it was in
the same water, and soaked through the whole sheet, you might as well burn
them.  It's not like pee, that washes out when you wet the bed, but blood
never does.  Then, she'd wake up, and the pad moved again, cause she moved
in her sleep, so it wasn't where she left it.  Held between her legs to
catch it, and it leaked out again.

   "Ugh!" She got up, "Gross!" Soaked through, then got it all over her
legs, pulling off the soiled clothes.

   And a stern talking to by mom.  For ruining another thing, then she'd
cry, because it's not fair.  She can't help it, she moves around in her
sleep, and I'm stuck cleaning up the sheets while mom helps her clean up.
Then holding her until she's done crying, and it's gotten to the point that
I'm scared of mornings.  What I'm going to wake up to, if it's not a bloody
mess, it's a shameful tent pole, and her shrill giggles waking me up like
an alarm clock.

   "Huh!" I can't help it either.  Oh, and she got taller.  Then me, for a
while, and that sucks.  I'm a year and a half older, she should be my
little sister, like she always was, and kids we knew all our lives made fun
of her "Little brother."

   It sucks being the little brother, and it's not fair, she starts growing
2 whole years before me.  Bad enough the other 6 graders called me shrimp,
just because I got a late start.  Not even the latest, there's smaller
boys, that don't have little sisters bigger then them, and what's worse is
she pushed them away, and yelled at them.  So then when she was done, and
gone, they made fun of me for that.  Being such a whimp I need my little
sister to protect me, when really, it's pretty wimpy to get beat up, or
runned off by a girl, but when i said that, they just pushed me down, and
kicked me, because I didn't have Sonia there to protect me.

   When she got bigger then me, she saw it, and made fun of that, and when
she started growing things, she showed me.  She didn't make fun, but still.
She got hairs, first, and she showed me that.  It was embarrassing, my
little sister's not supposed to get them first, and I didn't even know
girls get body hair, I thought that was a man thing.  Later, my friends got
pornos, or found their dads, and showed me, OUI was French, so they showed
"Bush," but I never knew what that razor in the bathtub was for.  That our
mom shaved her legs, I thought it was dad's, because dad bought the razors,
and did the shaving.  Just like he got the panty pads for mom, and then
Sonny when she started bleeding.

   She didn't tease me when she caught me, in our mom's shoes.  She thought
it was neat, I liked being taller, again, it was just a couple years before
i caught up, and then i got real tall like dad.  He shops in the Big and
Tall catalog, because we don't have one of the stores here, and bitched
about it a lot, but by the time I did, we got the outlets, so I could shop
there.  Instead of order out, because Sears, JC Pennys, and Maceys didn't
stock pants that fit us.

   So anyway, I got into mom's shoes, and she had heels.  A lot of heels,
and Sonny didn't tell or anything.  I didn't get in trouble, she even
helped me put them back, and went down to talk to mom, while I got out of
there.  It wasn't like, anything sick, or nothing, I know they're sexy
shoes, because they make mom tall enough for dad to kiss.  Without bending
over, he has a bad back, being so tall, and it's "A pain in the neck,"
which is why he buys her all those high heels.

   So that was all, we just played in mom's shoes, so i could be tall
again, and Sonny even said it was better.  "It's just weird, looking down
at you, when I always looked up to you." Growing up, there wasn't anything
dirty about it.  It's not like I got into her underwear, or her dresses,
dressed up like a girl, and posed in front of the mirror, or anything sick
like that.  Even if I did, I'm sure she would have teased me for it, or
even told mom, if she ever caught me at it.  It was just for the heels, mom
had the highest heels in the family, and they fit me better, until I
outgrew them.

   By then, I was taller again, so I didn't need them any more.

   Oh, then she started getting boobs.  Of course, after she got the bloody
nights, and then she started sprouting hairs.  What comes next is training
bras, and she woke up ever morning with swollen aching nipples.  I got
embarrassed, and hid it, but she said I was playing with myself.  It was
years before I could even look at girls, or play with myself, or anything
normal, because of Sonia.  I love her, I still do, but it sucked, she was
always kind of mean, and I got so that I could put up with the other kids
teasing, because she did it worse.  When I still wet the bed, she stopped,
and then made fun of me cause I didn't stop, and then when I started
growing wood, she saw it, and made fun of that.

   Then she woke up with achey nipples, and rubbed them, to make them feel
better, and it wasn't sexy or nothing, they just hurt.  Like a bruise, what
happens when you bang your shin?  You rub it till it stops aching, and
starts to bruise, that's all it was.  By then, she was in 5th grade, and I
started Jr high, so we didn't even got to the same school.  I guess the
other boys forgot about her, because they stopped making fun of me because
of her, and they didn't even notice I was taller then her any more, but she
started coming home early.

   Suspended, for fighting.  Beating up boys, and she told them it was
because they looked at her, or tried to touch her, and they wouldn't stop,
so she had to make them.  That's all, she doesn't hate boys.  She loves me,
and I was a boy, she just didn't like all the attention.

   ;

   Sonia (Psychos, Plural.  There's also the myth that only boys, or men
are, it's a guy thing like shaving, or wearing pants.  Misogyne drives it,
just like Anger Retaliation, and the mindset that there are 2 kinds of
people: Victims OR Abusers, as if one can be both, or two can't victimize
eachother.  This is what happens when Society listens to Sociopaths, and
accepts their excuses.)
It was just funny.  Okay?  At first, because little Freddy still wet the
bed, even after I stopped, then he stopped, because he was ashamed of it.
It worked!  He started getting up, and going to the bathroom instead of
staring in bed, and pissing it.  It's how he learns, for some reason it
wasn't good enough when mom told him he was too old for that, and after a

while he quit it.  Like me, why don't you be more like your sister?

   Then, I woke up, and felt it.  The first time, I was afraid that I wet
the bed, and I tried to hide it, but it wasn't piss.  It was blood, and I
thought I'd get in trouble because I broke it.  Playing with myself, I
covered it up, and threw out the bloody undies, but mom found it taking out
the trash.  I guess I should have hid them better, stuffed them in the chip
bag, but instead I put them down at the bottom, and piled all the trash on
top of them.  That was the mistake, because then when she took it out, and
dumped the can in the big ones outside, that put them on the top.

   Stupid, first one in, last one out, but then she told me.  When she was
done scolding me for throwing out a perfectly good pair.  "They're not
ruined," it was just a little line up the middle, but because I didn't soak
them, or wash them right away, the stain set, and now they'll never wash
out.  So then, she talked to me, and told me what was happening.  I was
going to start bleeding again next month, and every month, for the rest of
my life, but there's a way to hide it.  And protect my underwear, it's just
like a bandaid, you wear to protect them.

   It just slips off in bed, and I had to wear underwear to bed again, and
they just made it worse, because now I had something uncomfortable in them.
So, it was hard to fall asleep, and I fidgeted, and woke up wet again, just
like when I wet the bed.  It sucks, I went to all the trouble to stop
wetting the bed, just so I'd stop waking up cold and wet, only to find out
I was going to start all over again.  Only this time, instead of pee, it
was blood, which was a big red flag that it was that time of the month
again.

   I hated it, but I got used to it, just like mom said I would.  Then she
told me about sex, and Why we bleed like that, which doesn't make it any
better.  To get pregnant, which looks like all kinds of fun too, and it
just sucks all around, having all this extra stuff for girls to do.  Boys
have no idea how good the got it, except for little Freddy, cause I told
him.  He'd not my little brother, he's really 14 months older, but that's
what our friends call him, because of Alfred.  Big Freddy, because
Frederic, my brother is smaller, and we can't have two Freddies.  That was
just confusing, so we had a big Freddy, and a Little Freddy, so we know who
we're talking about.

   That's all, it's not like I called him that because I got bigger then
him, for 3 years.  It was hard on him, because the boys teased him for it,
but I set them straight.  He's my brother, you can't talk to him like that,
and make him cry, not when I'm around.  I'll hear about it, so it's not
like I was fighting, because I like beating up boys.  I beat them up
because they made fun of Little Freddy, and made him cry, just because
they're bigger, and that's not fair.

   So, I said "Pick on someone your own size," and beat them up.  1 by one,
told Freddy to "Tell me whenever they make fun of you, and I'll make them
stop." Okay, I thought that would work, because I didn't know yet that it
doesn't.  Beating up bullies doesn't make them stop, that's just what the
grownups said.  "Stand up to bullies." Well, have you actually tried it? 
I'm guessing not, because I did, and they didn't.  Can't argue with
results. Now, I'm not a bully, so I can only guess, but because nothing
actually stops them, I would have to say that they don't want to.  Stop,
it's just that simple, bullies have to stop, but they don't want to.  Even
when they grow up to harass women on the street, if not grope us, or jump
us for walking alone at night, they won't stop because it's easy, they like
it, and Society does nothing to stop them.  They just blame the victims,
it's up to you, because We can't be bothered to do anything about it to
this day.  Don't believe me?  It's perfectly legal for men to expose
themselves to you in Messenger.  Dick pics?  Is flashing, indecent
exposure, a sexual assault, but the total number of men charged for that
crime to date?  A big fat 0.

   So, then I was a target, because girls aren't supposed to fight.  Well,
that's sexist!  I never even heard of Rape Culture yet, but now I'm a
feminist, so let me tell you something.  "Don't fight" is what a rapist
tells you.  I know, because they tried that on me, but I found that out
early.  It's a lie.

   Fight back.  Even if you lose, fight.  Even if he's stronger, you're
scared, he has a knife, or he jumps you from behind, in the dark.  Fight,
even if he kills you it's worth it.  Because if you don't fight, he'll say
that you wanted it.  If you don't say no, that means yes.  Hell, they even
say no means yes, and that's blatant bullshit on it's face.  So, you know
if you don't fight, that tells him you're a victim.  I don't have to tell
you what kinds of girls boys like that are looking for, but my brother
isn't like that.

   Because I told him, my father didn't and my mother didn't, so someone
had to.  When I caught him playing with mom's shoes, I didn't make fun of
him.  He said, "Look, they fit!" And he was tall again, I didn't care, but
a less woke girl might have thought that was creepy.  Or gay, or I don't
know.  I don't really understand how some girls can be so guilleable to
believe it, but there's nothing wrong with a boy in heels.  He was just so
proud of being taller again, and he needed that.  The boys were even extra
mean to him for a while, and I know it wasn't even sexy for him, because he
didn't get a stiffy.

   I would have seen it, and before you go there, there's nothing sexy
about that either.  1: He's my brother, 2: it's a natural reaction,
especially when boys are asleep, so it doesn't mean anything, and 3: the
guys that say that boys and girls can't have a non-sexual relationship,
can't even have a sexual relationship with a woman, so they don't know what
they're talking about.  That's what the Friendzone comes from.  Guys that
blame girls for being incapable of having relationships.  Any kinds of
relationships with women, so they make shit up.  If they knew the first
thing about us, they'd have a girlfriend, or even wife, instead of blaming
us for being lonely.

   My brother's not like that.  I guess I had to do some of the mothering,
because ours worked, and there's nothing wrong with that.  So, I told him,
whatever I learned, and even the stuff mom got wrong.  For instance, about
playing with yourself.  I never made fun of him for that, I did it even
before I actually got my period, and broke my cherry so it stained my
underwear.  So, it was like a bandaid, but I started right after that, so
it was okay.

   Then, I got a hair, and showed him.  Again, big deal, he's my brother
and we shared a room.  Used to take baths together, saw eachother naked all
the time, it was my pussy, but nothing new.  He'd seen it, just never with
a hair before, and god help him we were so sheltered he didn't even know
girls had bodyhair.  He'd never seen it, under a girl's arms, because all
the girls that are old enough shave them, and dad isn't as hairy as some
men.  So, I asked him what he thought the razor in the shower was for, and
he said dad shaves his chest.

   "No he doesn't, he just doesn't grow them there."

   "How dos he do that?"

   "He just doesn't, some guys do, some don't he's one of the ones that
doesn't."

   "Oh, then what's he need to shave in the bath for?"

   "He doesn't, that's mom's razor, so she can shave her legs."

   "Oh," he actually thought that only men shave, from watching
commercials, and never seeing a girl with hairy legs before.  That's how
sexist our culture is, still is, and if you don't believe me, when was the
last time you saw a hairy woman?  Well, it's not because we don't grow
hair, it's because we have to shave, there's this big old hipster beard
revival, and if you look at his girlfriend?  She still shaves, every hair,
below the eyelashes, because girls aren't mammals.  That's the myth, we
don't have body hair, and we have to hide our nipples, because a child
might see them.  We wouldn't want children to learn the deep dark secret
that women are mammals too.

   So, I never shaved.  A single hair, I never even learned.  It's a waste
of money, here my mom complained about ever single stitch of cloth we
bought, even the bloodstained ones, and still spent tens of dollars a
month, hundreds a year, to make sure she didn't have any hair under her
clothes.  She used cloth diapers, so she could wash them, and up until
Menopause kept buying disposable diaper, and threw them away, every month.
She moved to a nursing home, when dad died, and while we're unpacking her
house I found our old diapers.  Tucked away, I'm guessing in case she had
any more kids, or when we did for hand-me downs.

   They don't even make reusable pads.  They make disposables, so they can
sell them month after month, because it's a secret expense.  I don't buy
them either, I just started wearing red underwear as soon as I could get my
own.  People are stupid.  Because you're told something all your life, you
believe it, and wind up spending all this money on stuff we don't need. 
Those are just examples, and that's not even going into all the fucked up
things we believe about sex.  Because Puritans, I guess.  You know the
Pilgrims, you sang about in sunday school?  The buckleheads we dressed up
as for our Thanksgiving pageants?  Nevermind that it's a celebration of
what we Took from the tribes we found when we got here.  Everything, those
"Pilgrims" were run out of England, and Germany, for being too Puritan for
those cultures.

   This country, "One Nation, Under God," was taken by Puritans.  That's
why we still hide things, like the Order of Animals we are, because even
though the Bill of Rights starts with: "Thou shalt not establish a State
Religion, Congress." The Church enjoys "Freedom of religion." From taxes,
legal scrutiny, and to tell everyone right from wrong.  That women feeding
children in public is inappropriate, but when a man flashes you over your
phone, "Boys will be boys."

   Don't You Believe It!  You've been lied to.  Your whole life, we're
mammals, there's nothing sexual about a woman's body, and we don't have to
be ashamed of having one.  Period.

   ;

   Freddy

   I don't know why, but I always had nightmares.  I mean, it's normal,
even recurring ones, I just wish I understood why mine are so fucked up.  I
don't even remember when they started, I guess I can't remember all of
them, but watch the same rerun enough times, you'll remember it.  Every
detail, it's just.  Why on Earth would I ever dream about that, much less
be terrified by it.

   But I do, to this day, wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding out of
control, and have to turn on the light to see that I'm not alone.  I'm not
sure why I never thought about, writing about them, I have several, but
this morning.  Okay, let me start off by saying it's impossible.  She would
never, but my therapist had a good idea that if I write them down, it will
be easier to remember when we get a chance to talk about it.  She's very
busy, has a lot of patients, and even if I wanted to call her at all hours
whenever I have a panic attack, it wouldn't be worth it.  She has to switch
gears, to separate us, or compartmentalize her patients so our issues, and
complexes don't all run together.

   It seems so obvious now, I just didn't think of it myself, like writing
about it, so I can talk to her later, but here goes.  I don't know why some
of my nitemares are so incestuous.  About my sister, we never did anything,
like that.  I never even wanted to, and like I said, it's a nightmare. 
It's not even sexy, it's terrifying, but I never even seriously considered
playing with myself, thinking about her.  As kids, I'm an adult now, and
maybe if I work out these issues I might be able to find a woman.  Marry
her, and start a family of my own, but I'm still terrified of them.

   I think this nightmare in particular might be a big part of it, because
it feels the exact same.  I never put the 2 together before, but it's the
same fear I feel, thinking about talking to a woman.  She's a lesbian,
Sophia.  So, that's even one more reason why she would never, seriously
consider, touching me that way.  It's sick, I never even wanted her to, so
maybe that's why it's a nightmare.  The swelling goes back down, right
away, but maybe it's a subconscious reaction to the erection?

   I know, some guys are proud of them.  Showing them off, but just the
thought of a woman, any woman, seeing it.  I thought I was gay for years, I
even tried it.  I have sex, with men.  It's homosexual, but I don't ever
feel any, emotional attachment, for any of them.  I like women, they're
sexy in a way that men are not, but I have to have sex with someone, and
for some reason, they don't terrify me like women do.  It's weird, why I
need help figuring out what's wrong with me, but I want a woman.  To love,
have sex, and a family with, and yet I can't.  Have sex with them, I even
tried prostitutes, but it doesn't work.

   Porn does, because they're not there.  Not real women, who can just look
down and see it.  Hard, in my lap, all I have to think about is that to
make it go away.  I don't have a problem with men, gay men, who don't have
a problem looking at it.  Touching it, sucking it, and even like me fucking
them, but it's just to deal with the urges.  I don't know, maybe this is
part of it, but the panic attack is over, so maybe I can write about it.  I
guess it's good that my therapist is a woman, I am getting used to talking
about it with her, but I'm not afraid she'll judge me for it.  I never was,
that was never my fear, and I wish it was, something so understandable.

   Maybe she can help me understand, if not why I have them, or how to make
them stop, at least so I can go on with maybe starting to get a normal sex
life.  So anyway, here goes.

   She did, point at it.  And giggle, she stopped, but.  When we're little,
and it started, she couldn't help it.  It was funny, pitching a tent, and
she pointed it out so I could hide it.  I suppose a more normal one I've
had is the one about being called up to the front of the class, hearing
their snickers, and looking down to see you forgot to put on pants?  Yeah,
I have that one too, but when I try to cover it up, and run away, it's not
like a normal class.  With normal boys and girls my age.

   I mean, at the time, for some reason I'm always a child in these
particular ones.  I have other dreams, but I had this one again, this
morning.  Instead of a teacher, it's Sophia.  She's a little girl again,
and she said "Don't be shy," and "Turn around, to show them."

   I can't, even turn around, I never see them, the other students, and I
wake up before anything else happens, because I know it's a dream.  I've
had it enough, and it's so surreal, my little sister being the teacher, and
so forth, eventually the illusion pops like a bubble, and I wake up. 
However, my mind is trickier then that, so it caught on, and started making
me think I woke up.  It does that, plays tricks on me, and this one for
years.  Only, instead of waking up in my bed, alone, I wake up in my old
room with Sophia, and she's touching it.

   Again, she would never.  Not only is she my sister, she's a lesbian, and
she told me, the thought of touching a man, much less having sex with him
is disgusting.  She doesn't hate them, and I know she never hated me, she
told me.  I'm not like them, at all, I'm her brother, and she love me, in a
completely normal way.  There never was anything sexual between us, and I
would think that becoming comfortable with her, long before I ever started
having sexual feelings toward other girls would have helped.  So, maybe
it's natural?  I was born afraid of females, and even Sophia being so
comfortable around me wasn't enough to change it?

   I don't know, I'm not the psychologist, I'm the patient, but it's not
because she's gay.  I'm not homophobic, at all, and I'm not just saying
that, because I'm scared I might be.  I was, once.  But I even still have
sex with men, because I can, and if I was gay I would know it.  I just
can't have sex with women, that's what I'm seeking therapy for, and I can't
help think my nightmares might have something to to do with it.  I've just
never been able to figure out if the nightmares are because of my phobia,
or I have panic attacks because I always flash back to them, so that's why
I need help with all of this.

   So anyway, she doesn't stop there.  Not my real sister, the nightmare
version of Sophia isn't really like her at all, but like the opposite of
her.  An evil twin, or dark alternative universe, where she's dark, and
twisted.  Where she did touch it.  Well, okay.  Once, but again, it wasn't
sexual at all.  I remember it, she just poked it, and giggled, then never
did it again.  It was sticking up, and I let her, I laughed too, and it was
funny, but it wasn't the same.  I wish I could remember if the nightmares
started after that, or.

   Well, no.  If I was already having it, I would never have let her touch
it like that.  I wouldn't have laughed it off, i would have been too
scared, but you think something so innocent, and.  Well, brief could have
tortured me for the rest of my life?  I mean, it wasn't sexual.  At all, we
were both so young we thought they were just what we peed out of.  And
really, she just poked it, under the sheet.  Called it my "Finger" I don't
know how long, but for a long time after that, but whenever it happened,
she just pointed it out.

   You think, getting hard all the time around her might of traumatized
her, an mad her a lesbian?  I didn't mean to, I never knew any better, and
if she got nightmares like me, she never said anything about them.  I mean
about me, and my erections.  I'm sure she has nightmares, like anyone else,
but I'd hate to think I gave her any.  I just didn't know, anything about
it.  I got them in the morning, or sometimes during the day, but other than
that, they made peeing difficult, until the swelling went down.

   I don't know, maybe it's because I got the sex talk from her.  First, I
mean mom told her when she found her bloody panties, and then she told me,
and then dad caught me jerking off, but when he started, I said "I know."
So, he just shrugged, and left.  Told me to stop it, but really I started
just so I could piss.  Especially in the morning, but even during the day,
when I had to go, but I had to hold it.  By the time I got to the bathroom,
or found a private bush, wouldn't you know it was too hard, and I had to
jerk off to make it a hose again.

   Huh, I forgot about that.  Playing "Fire hose" with the other boys.  You
know, we'd be out playing in the woods or whatever, then we'd stop to pee
by the trail, and then compete for distance?  It's a boys game, like Lava.
I'm sure everyone played some variation on it, but we pretended to be
firemen.  If there was a tree, we'd yell "Fire, Fire!" and try to put it
out, the one that peed the highest won, then we'd go play Cowboys, or
Knights, or Cops, or Army again.

   ;

   Sopia (Lies.)

   So, I read this study, about repressed memories?  Yeah, they debunked
that, a bunch of therapists started hypnotizing their patients, and then
these outlandish allegations started coming out, until the American
Psychiatric Association finally studied it, and discovered an Observer
affect.  Okay, first of all, people have fantasies, and nightmares.  It's
normal, fucked up, disgusting, and scary, but it's just the way the mind
works.  Like girls have rape fantasies, I can't speak for all of us, but
even I did, and it doesn't mean we want it.  It's just one of the tricks
the mind plays on us, we even get turned on, and can masturbate to them.

   It's not an excuse for rape, there is none.  Likewise other sexual
fantasies, like Teachers, Priests, Mothers, Fathers, or what have you. 
It's no reason to fuck your priest, then blame him for molesting you, any
more than it's right for them to break their vows, and Blame the Victim. 
Certainly no reason for the Church to shuffle them around like the Queen in
a game of 3 Card Monte, and let them victimize more children in other
diocese, rather than admit that they have a problem.

   I have a theory, no way to test it out, but in Abstract we don't
understand Sex.  So, it's like Algebra, you have trouble with it, so you
dream about it for months, your brain chews on it for months, and then you
finally pass it, and move onto Algebra II.  Why I became a Sex Therapist,
because I went through that, and the only way I could stop it was to
understand it a little better.  I still have rape fantasies, but I like
them, and of course I would never act on them, because I never want to be
raped.

   It's just a fantasy, there's nothing wrong with having them.  What's
wrong is when a man has them, and acts on them against a woman's will.  You
see?  Women get raped for having fantasies, but men get away with it, if
anything it's her fault, because men write the laws, enforce, and prosecute
them, Justice just holds out her scales, and keeps her eyes closed.  She?
She's a woman, and she's okay with it!

   So anyway, Little Freddy stopped seeing her, because she started fucking
with his head like that.  Head shrinkers, another reason why I got into
therapy, because some of the worst victims came from so-called experts
fucking around in people's heads.  Gaslighting, you're insane, and I'm an
expert on insanity, therefore it gives me a right to go in and fuck with
your memories, for money.  Bullshit.  They don't know what they're talking
about, if anyone knows what's going on in my head it's me, which is why I
don't do it.

   I understand sex, it's relatively simple, and straight forward, compared
to the subconscious, emotions, and romantic relationships.  It's arrogant
to look at someone else's marriage, for example, from the outside, then go
in and tell them how they're fucking it up.  Here's the reason why:

   It's normal.  To fuck up your marriage.  To fight, even get divorced,
perfect marriages are a fantasy cooked up by Halmark to sell Anniversary
Cards.  It doesn't happen, it never happens, because nobody's perfect.  You
ever heard that?  All right, then why did you ever believe that 2 people
could ever get together, and live happily ever after?  Because you read
about it?  You saw a movie like that?  When have you ever, let's be honest
here, Ever seen a couple who was perfect together, all the time, forever?
You haven't, maybe they fought behind closed doors, to hide the strain in
their marriage, but that's to lead people to believe the myth:

   We have a perfect marriage, we never fight, we're going to be happy
together, forever, just like he told me when we started to go out, and you
can too.

   Bullshit.

   I just had no idea that they got to him, or how badly.  He talked to me,
and invited me to talk to his shrink, but professional opinion aside, I
would have been willing to for him.  I don't trust Psychiatrists, I've
known too many of them, and most of my patients are their victims, but
that's the kind of relationship I have with my brother.  If I wasn't gay,
I'd probably happily end up with another man like him, and he's not unique,
in those regards.  He's sensitive, and caring, but most importantly is why:

   He listens.  He asks questions, and listens.  If there's anyone out
there reading this, especially men who're having trouble with their
relationships, that's the secret.  Ask, listen, and practice what you learn
from them.  Anyone, any relationship.  Mothers, ask your children what they
want.  As long as it isn't dangerous or abusive, then what's the harm in a
girl playing baseball?  A boy wearing a dress?  It's not your job to force
your roles on them, like your parents forced them on you, and at some point
it has to stop.

   Same with your spouse, husband or wife, now that we can get married I
can ad that if it's a gay, or lesbian marriage it doesn't change this. 
Talk to them, ask them questions, answer their's, and listen.  Learn from
eachother, it won't make it a perfect marriage, any more than forcing your
child into you mold will make them perfect kids, because there is no
perfect anyone.  However, you can avoid a lot of needless
misunderstandings, because you assumed you knew what was going on, and
therefore never talked about it.

   I can only think that he's still single, because girls aren't taught to
look for that.  We're taught to look for a Man, first, but fortunately he
is one.  Unfortunately, he isn't the Profile they hand out with your first
compact, and pantiliners.  He's not Handsome, Outgoing, doesn't have a nice
car, a big house, and he's not going to buy you drinks.  You know why? 
Because MEN wrote that profile!  Does that sound like a woman came up with
it?  Seriously?  No, she did not.  We're supposed to look for the men men
want to be, so the good ones like my brother stay single.  Because he's too
shy to ask them out.

   Then some manipulated bitch got a hold of him, convinced him he's afraid
of women, sex, and relationships, because he didn't live up to that
standard.  At least this time she didn't say that because he's bisexual,
he's "Actually" secretly gay, and just doesn't want to admit it.  I had to
put up with that, my whole life, because obviously lesbians just hate men.

   Bullshit, there's a perfectly fine one right there.  If we weren't
siblings, I probably would have married him, because he wouldn't have
minded me being a lesbian, ever gotten jealous of my girlfriends, nor tried
to talk me into a 3some, because he learned at an early age what we're
really like.  From a real lesbian.  Not our homophobe parents, his
homophobe friends, or the pathetic losers who think their fantasy lesbians
bear any resemblance to any real person who ever really lived, because they
watch "Lesbo" porn.

   Even then, when I found out she got her hooks into him, I just helped
him think it through.  I can only think that she heard about it, after all,
he confided in me, about his therapy.  Likewise, he talked to her about me,
and she must have subconsciously gotten jealous.  I don't know, it's just a
theory, and I'm just trying to figure out why anyone would do something as
insidious, and evil as what she started trying.  I never understood why, so
called "Professionals" would do this, commit what I consider the worst kind
of malpractice, but as soon as I found out about it, I had to get him out
of it.

   She started implanting false memories.  Gave him nightmares, and
convinced him that he always had them, and worst of all, make him believe I
gave them to him.

   If we didn't have the open and honest relationship we do, it might even
had worked, but he came to me first.  Asked me about it, confused, and let
me explain what she was doing to him.  She must be good, I mean I was even
a little impressed myself.  Evil, absolutely insideous, but somehow she
convinced him of the most outlandish story, I'm amazed he ever believed it.

   Like I would, even seriously consider molesting him.  My own brother, a
boy, when I'm a lesbian.  She even convinced him I'm not homosexual, I'm a
pedophile, and just use that as a story to cover it up.  How could anyone
ever believe anything so outlandish?  Much less my own brother, who was
there, the whole time we both struggled with our roles in society, against
the very sexist standards that make it so hard for all children.  Why I
made a career out of it, call me a Social Justice Warrior all you want, but
this has to stop.  But she's one of those, that believes homosexuality is a
perversion, we're all perverts, or it's a myth.

   Bullshit.

   Don't listen to them, they don't know what they're talking about.

   ;

   {You know that #NotAllMen are like that.  You heard about it, right? 
Somebody's told you by now, I'm sure.

   You ever wonder why some are?

   Well, I have, my whole life, and I've actually figured some of them out.
Believe it or not, I'm writing this one for me, because I hit the
stereotypical lesbo-incest fantasy a bit too hard.  I do know these two. 
What drives an Anger Retaliator, and how Power Assertive Malignant
Narcissists think, to justify their actions.  If you look at an Anger
Retaliator, any of them, long enough.  You'll eventually find the
manipulator that made them hate women.  Or men, or fags, or lesbians, or
children...

   However, a Sociopath is self aware enough to hide it.  So, they may turn
out to be the last person you'd suspect.  Quite often it's the Mother,
which isn't to say that it's Never the little sister, and besides, that's
predictable.  Especially young, and inexperienced ones needs someone to
practice on, because they're not born with that charm.  Just the
superiority complex to take advantage of anyone who's vulnerable to it,
whoever that may be.  Of course, rarely do they ever get this lucky, but
this is a fantasy:

   The "Perfect victim," if they can't find one, they will try to make one.
I'm not going to tell you how to do that, but in a word: Co-dependence. 
She didn't make him a psychopath, any more than he made her a Sociopath. 
They just had the dumb luck (Or a writer) to grow up right next to each
other, and one of them realized it first.  If anything, at most, they
influenced eachother's escalation, only one of them was Conscious of it. 
For the purpose of this story, that's the difference: The Sociopath knew
what she was doing, and lied about it.  The Psychopath had no idea, and
lied about it.  To himself, his victims, therapist, and even co-abuser.

   Neither of them is right.  Sometimes, nobody's right, both of them are
wrong.  Intent doesn't really change that.  She could sympathise with her
brother, and took advantage of it, so she didn't need Empathy.  Just for
shits and giggles, I flipped the image for him.  He has it, Empathy, it's
no panacea against being a Psychopath.  That's another myth, of the
Psychiatric community, that they understand them, and they don't employ
Psychopaths.

   Of course not.  There's no Malignant narcissists here, that wouldn't be
professional!  If there was, any concsious of it, do you think they would
accurately describe the delusional ones?  Of course not, any more than
they'd admit that it's possible for a PAMN to pass the screening, and
proffesionally fuck with people's heads.  However, a PAMN in denial can't
properly treat a PAMN, because they don't understand eachother.  "Takes one
to know one?" No, "I'm not a narcissist, you are!" Gaslighting.  "I'm not
in denial, you are." Or, they're not a narcissist.  #NotAllShrinks are, but
then how do they understand a Narcissist?  Rationally?  You're going to
rationally understand delusions of grandure?

   Interesting.  So, how long have you had the fantasies of fixing a
Narcissist?  I see.}

   ;

   Alpha (TW: This is probably not your fantasy.)

   "Hey, little Freddy!" Long time.

   "Hey, uh Fred."

   "It's just Al, now." Childhood names, since there was 2 Freds, don't
know why I didn't think of it back then.

   "Yeah, you can call me Ricky now."

   "So, what's this about?" I let him in.

   "Huh!" Same old Freddy, he was always quiet.  "I've been going to this
group.  And one of the steps."

   "Like AA?" I stopped by the fridge on the way in, and put the other one
back.

   "Well, like that, but.  I'm not an Alcoholic."

   "So," I got it back out, "You want a beer?"

   "Sure," I popped the tops, and handed him his.

   "So, what's this about?"

   "Well, Coda's like AA, only for Co-dependence.  I just, have to talk
about, some of the stuff that happened.  When we were kids, to work past
it."

   "Okay," I sat down, "Shoot." Picked up the remote, and instead of
unmuting the TV, I just turned it off.  Seen it, Deadpool, but it's funny,
so I thought I'd watch it again.  I own it, though.  So, I can do it any
time I want.

   "Sorry, it's just hard to talk about but.  Huh, you remember the," He
looked down, "Circle jerk?"

   "I'm sorry about that.  I had, issues too.  But then I came out as
bisexual, and.  I'm just sorry.  About that."

   "Oh, don't be.  It's not that, it's just.  Huh!  I've been, having sex
with men.  Too, I'm straight, I just.  You know, how it's easier to talk to
gay men?"

   "Yeahuh?  You don't even have to say anything really." Why I like them,
"If they want to fuck, then we can go fuck." About all you need is rubbers,
and lube.  "Why, you're not regretting, anything?" Like we never had sex?
Not like I never thought about it, he was kind of cute back then, I was
just in denial, and homophobic.  I didn't need a therapist to understand
it, just a good boyfriend to work it out in the sack.

   "Well, other than being a virgin?"

   "Really." I took a sip.  "Okay?" He had to be pushing 40, a couple years
younger than me, so.  "Go on?" I don't know what to say.

   "I mean with women.  I always had trouble with them.  I don't know how
to talk to them, and then I got sucked in by a bad psychiatrist, and she
started taking advantage of it."

   "Huh." I shifted, my pants, and put another leg up.  "How so?"

   "You know, manipulating me.  Putting ideas in my head, you know anything
about repressed memories?"

   "Not really."

   "Well, some doctors had this theory, ever since these cases started
appearing, like the Ramirez brothers, and others."

   "I heard about that," It was a while ago.

   "So yeah, they thought they could go back, and dig up traumas from the
past, like Paternal Incest."

   "Your daddy, didn't never." I took a sip.

   "No, no.  Of course not, but that's the point.  None of them did, which
isn't to say that a father never molested or raped his son, but.  It's such
an archetypic thing.  In the subconscious, and a lot of therapists tried to
find it there."

   "So what you're saying is, they found what they're looking for?"

   "Right, exactly.  They didn't take into account what they're looking
for, and their patients were so vulnerable to suggestion, they started
confessing things that never happened."

   "And this therapist did that to you."

   "She tried to."

   "Get you to believe your father molested you?"

   "No, my sister.  That was just an example, but it could be anyone.  So
anyway, I talked to her about it, and she told me it never happened."

   I shifted, uncomfortably again, and hid it behind my beer.  In my lap.

   "Are you getting turned on?"

   "Yeah, a little.  Sorry."

   "It's okay.  I understand now, more than anyone that these fantasies are
normal.  Sometimes trying to fight them is even worse than aknowleging it.
We can do such fucked up things, in denial, and besides.  Isn't it better
to know?"

   "Know what?"

   "No, what?"

   "Well, since we're being so open and honest now.  I guess I better come
clean, and admit that I was.  Always attracted to you."

   "Oh yeah?"

   "A little, I just.  Didn't want to say anything, on account,"

   "I get it.  Denial, homophobia, there's nothing wrong with it, but
because of the way we grew up."

   "Yeah," finished my beer, "So, anyway." Set it on the side table, "Since
you're here." And I'm getting horny.  Just put my foot down, and let him
look at my dick.

   In my pants, but straining against the fabric, and trying to beat it's
way out.

   "You want to have sex?"

   "Sure," I got up, "Thought you'd never ask..."

   ;

   Ricky (MM Cons m/b Flashback)

   "I'm so glad we did this." My issues have issues, but my problems with
women aside, another thing was all the confusing memories I had about him.
Big Fred.

   "Huh!" He got it out.

   "You looking at my dick?" He'd said, way back when, when really, I was
just.  So, little, and he wasn't just the biggest boy we knew, named
Freddy.

   "Mh!"

   He patted my head, but he had the biggest one.  So, when I was looking
forward to getting bigger, I looked up to him.  I'm sure having similar
names were part of it too, but really it was more about maybe looking like
that, when I grew up.  There wasn't really anything gay about it, for me.

   "Hhuh!  You sure you're straight?"

   "Mhm." I nodded, "Spoop!  Take my word for it." I looked up.

   He shrugged, "You're a pretty good cocksucker, for a straight guy."

   "Lots of practice,' I shrugged, "Mph!" Not like its all that difficult.
I've gotten blowjobs too, from guys, drag queens, and even a trannygirl
before.  Didn't take all that long to learn, and I don't know.  I don't
even really like it, or dream about it, but it's easy, and they like it.

   "You getting hard, too?"

   "Mm mh." I shook my head.

   "Why not?"

   "Spub!  I told you, I'm straight." I shrugged, "I guess I could think
about a girl, while i do it, but I haven't started yet."

   "Huh!" he scrubbed my hair, "You always were a weirdo.  But I like it."

   I looked down, and now my face was starting to heat up.  "Thanks."

   "You want to fuck me, or you like to be fucked?"

   "Oh, I'm not a bottom.  Another thing is, there's straight bottoms.  I
mean, other guys, that enjoy anal.  They just get it from their wives."

   "I know, so you want to fuck me?" He dropped his pants.

   "Sure," I rubbed mine, to start getting it hard.  Now that I know I need
to, i would have been happy enough just to suck him off, but.

   "Huh!" he bent over, and pulled a bottle out of the side table.  Under
his beer, but he had lube.  And rubbers, right next to the couch.

   "I never thought.  In a million years.  Since you're so homophobic when
we're kids."

   "That I'm a bottom?" He shrugged, "I'm not." Thurned back, and shrugged.
"I swing all 4 ways.  I'm not just bi, I can top, or bottom.  For guys or
girls.  For instance, you know what you're saying about guys letting their
wives fuck them?"

   "Yeah." I buttered him up, found him smooth, and hairless, all the way
down to the balls.

   "Well, I really wish more women were into pegging."

   "You like that, huh?"

   "Ngh!  Hm." He nodded.  Wordlessly, but I couldn't see the expression on
his face.  "Huh!  Yeah.  If I had to pick a favorite, it'd probably be
getting fucked by a woman."

   "Huh," think you know someone.

   "Ready for more?" I felt around inside him.

   "Nh, yehUHN!" He puckered shut, and spasmed, so I dribbeld a little more
on another finger, and rubbed them both in.  Pushed it, deeper, and he held
his breath.  Then slipped open, around them with a grunt.  "Ihn!" Nodded,
and turned.  "Huh!  You're good at this too." Sighed.

   "You really like it."

   "Huhhhh!  Yeah.  Lmhm?" Licked a little drool from his lips.  "I lke
sex. Just sex, I tried dating, and relationships, but.  Really, I just love
all kinds of sex."

   I slipped back out.

   "Uhn!" Such a girly sound, I never thought I'd hear from him.

   "Just let me put this on real quick." He nodded, looked almost asleep.
Smiling to himself, and his balls bounced a little from him milking his
softoff.  He carefully pulled his hand out, looked, and licked the drop of
clear thick prostate fluid off, and smacked his lips.

   I pinched out the tip, and he glanced down.  He grinned, and his
eyebrows relaxed from the surprise.  My ears burned, but I grinned back.

   "Nice panties."

   "Yeah, I'm a transvestite, too."

   "I always knew there must be something kinky about you."

   "Yeah," I slipped it up and down, and dribbled a lot more between us. 
"You ready?"

   "Oh yeah.  Fuck me.  UhnH!" I swear, such a look of bliss, on his face.

   I went slow, didn't stab it in, or anything, but watched him.  Listened
to his moans, and grunts of pleasure, but fed it in.  Slowly, plenty of
time to fuck him, after this, but he's still tight.  Sensitive, and this
way he can feel every millimeter slowly fed into him.  Deeper, and deeper,
until I bottomed out.

   "You like it?" He'd said.  I bent over, wrapping my hips around his hard
muscular buttocks.

   "Neah!"

   "Yeah," this is what a real dick looks like.  "You want more?" I started
dragging it out.

   "NhghH!  Neah.  Huh!  Hhuhuhuh!" He was shivering now, and so hot I
could feel it, radiating from his back.  On my shirt, I pulled it off, and
bent over it.

   "Yeah, you want it."

   "Ngheah!" A little faster, still not a thrust, but he was loosening up.
Relaxing, "Augh, yeah!  Fugh!  Ngh!  Mhhh!"

   "Yeah." I nibbled a little.  "Tehkit!"

   "IHN!"

   I almost slipped out.

   "Take it up your ass."

   "Ngh!?"

   I felt up his chest, to his shoulders.  His neck as red as a bad
sunburn, and gripped them to pull in for a good hard thrust.

   "HEAUGH!"

   "You like it."

   "NGAUGH!"

   "Yeah!"

   "NGHAUGH!"

   "Faggot."

   "AAAUUUGH!" He nodded, crying now.

   "HhH!" I pulled out.

   "Ngh!"

   "Uh, huh!" Pinched the bottom to hold it back.  Slipping out of the
greasy rubber so I could let go.  "HUH!" Open my eyes to see the final
spurts leap out, and join the rest running down the crack of his ass.

   "Huh, huh, huh!" He panted.  "God, I never got fucked like that!"

   I patted his ass, and turned back.  Didn't finish my beer, saved a good
swig to pick up.  It was cool, and refreshing after that.

   "Ngh!" He was rubbing it in.  His balls, and cock.  The cum, my cum all
over his balls, and cock, hanging under the pink ruffle of his fresh fucked
ass.

   It's not gay, at all.  I don't even like him.  I still kind of hate him,
but he deserved it.

   And he liked it.

   ;

   Fratteusse (Flasback/Lies.  I.E.  she's not going to write about it as a
memory.)

   "Huh!" I woke up, and felt wetness between my legs.  Wrong time of the
month, and "Snh?"

   It's not piss, either.

   "HhHhH!"

   I guess his therapist rubbed off on me.  Figuratively speaking, never
met the bitch before, don't want to think about what I'd do, if I
confronted her for what she did to my brother, but it was like a blast from
the past.

   "Far out!" I suppose it's such an archetypic fantasy, we probably just
had it in common, but I hadn't even thought about it for years.  Then, I
read what he wrote for her.  Notes, really, but that brought it all back,
and then I started having that dream again.

   It was just a fantasy, but a recurring one, even back then.  I never
acted on it, and that's the important part.  Like rape fantasies, I still
have them, they just don't terrify me any more, now that I know them for
what they are.  I certainly never actually went out, alone, and got drunk
in the hopes that some guy would make them come true.

   It's fucked up for a lesbian, I know that, but it doesn't keep it from
happening.  Likewise, the Incestuous ones are perfectly natural, as long as
we keep them Fantasies, nobody gets hurt.  There's no victims unless we
make them, and likewise that would make us abusers.

   Doesn't hurt to think about it, after all these years.

   "Hh!" My fingers aren't doing it.  Any more, I was already turned on, so
once I got as far as they could take me, I got up, and moved the pillow. 
Put the dong down, and closed my eyes.  Imagined him, looking up at me,
like he did.  Like I always imagined him doing, all those years ago.

   "Hm!" I never even seriously considered fucking him, and he wasn't this
big back then.  I suppose they don't make dildos that small for pedorasts,
as if that might encourage them.  You don't have to encourage them, just
stamp [Keep away from children] on their forehead.

   "Hihihm!" Like a choking hazard, "EhihehahuhUH!" Warning, small parts.

   It's funny!  I like it when it's fun.  Sex, or fantasies, that's
something far too many people lose when they grow up.  So, it's childish,
children have fun.  Then we grow up, and everything becomes Serious
Business.  We have all these responsibilities forced on us, like money,
expenses, career, and college debt.

   Never let that happen to sex.  That's just wrong, this should be an
escape from all that.  Sex is fun, or it should be.  People lose sight of
that, but now I'm starting to.  Get distracted, instead of into it so I can
get off before I have to worry about heading in for work.

   "Huh!" Grab the pillow.  "HhuhH!" Grinding the hard cock into it.  "Hh,
yeah, you like that?"

   "Yeah," he said.  "I love you."

   "Yeah," the pillow case slipping like the arms of his pajama top.  "Hh,
yeah!" Faster, and faster, grinding it harder, and the linen slipping
between my thighs.  Like his summer Pjs, the fine cotton, I don't want to
get up, and break out the flannel ones to remember winter break.

   "Ngh!" There, "HhHhH!"

   Falling down, clutching the pillow tight between my quivering thighs,
and hold my breath.  Curled up on the bunched bedsheets, and hugging my
knees.

   "WhihhhHHH?" The rush of oxygen just as the pleasure started to fade,
and feel between them to grip the rubbery dong again.  Cracking my eyes, I
still have a while before I have to get up.  So, I roll back, and spread
them.  Swirling the hard tip around, and pressing it in.  Deeper, and
deeper until it feels me, I never fucked him.

   Either, not like I humped him in bed either, but I can imagine, if I
did. He'd probably keep it up after I got off the first time.

   "But he's your brother.  Hh, rhm!  Grhhm!" On top of me now, and
pounding away inside me.

   "Nh?"

   Holding me down.

   "Nh?"

   Raping me.

   "Hhahn!"

   Another one.

   "AHHHN!"

   No need to be quiet.

   "OHHHHHH!"

   No parents to hear us.

   "Hoh!"

   Fucking.

   "Whewh!" Slip it out.

   It's still a little early, but now I need a shower.

   I know, I have fucked up dreams, but I'm okay with that.

   ;

   Frotteurist

   "Well, you know there's no reason why men and women can't be friends."

   "I'm not interested in being your friend, either."

   "Even if I was't gay, it's just not socially acceptable without any
sexual tension."

   "Are you even listening to me?  I said I'm not interested.  Go fuck
yourself."

   She ran, but the wrong way.  You ever played tag?  Of course you did,
every kid has, but when you're finally it, then how do you win even if
you're not the fastest?

   You have to be the smartest, and she's not any faster than me.

   "Stuckup bitch."

   "MRHHHH!"

   She was just so worried about running away, she didn't think about where
she was headded.

   "Hh, snh!?" Nice shampoo, I didn't bother asking, with my hand over her
mouth.  "Relax." Just felt up from around her waist, her shirt bunched up,
under her heaving chest, and her fast shallow gaps on my knuckles.  "I
don't have to rape you."

   I swore I never would again.  I promised myself, it was just that once,
and she forgave me later.

   "Hh, just don't fight it." My waistband slipping down.  "It'll all be
over soon."

   "Nmh!  Ihmhmhmhm!" Her tears ran down, over the back of my hand, and
fingers on the other side.  A little snot shot out, and she sniffed,
sucking it back in.

   "Nh!" I just pushed it, hard between her buttocks.  Her nice ass, and
squeezed her breast hard.  "Uh!  Huh!"

   It was, over quick.  It slipped out, so I could feel the frilly edge of
the stretch lace, tickle under the head, and that was all it took.

   "HhHhH!" She fell down, sobbing, and I pulled the waistband up, before
she looked at me.  Turned to open her eyes, and see it, but I was already
shrinking back.  The last of it milked out to stick inside the satin
crotch, but I was gone.  All that was left was most of the load soaked into
the back of her shirt, and those hot tight yoga pants.

   I don't blame her, for going out like that.  If I had an ass like that,
and could get away with it, I'd rock them too.  I couldn't stop myself, I
tried to fight it, but she could have worn a Burqua, or a Nun's habit, that
wouldn't even make it any hotter, because I don't care what they wear.  I
don't think about them, I can't when I'm like this, but I know the
nightmares will go away.

   Again, just like the first time, and the last time before tonight.  I
can't stop it, until someone stops me, but that doesn't mean I wan't to get
caught.

   I regret it, every time, and I know I'll feel remorse for this one when
I get back, but now is not the time for that.  I might as well enjoy it
while I can, knowing it's coming, and breaking down into a sobbing mess
will only get me caught.

   I have to get back, safe, before they pick me up on description, and
that's part of the thrill, too.  Knowing I can get caught, but I don't. 
Let them test the spunk I left, compare it to the other 3, even the
fingerprints on her cheek if they're not too smudged.

   I never even been arrested, not even a speeding ticket, I've been
careful, and I know better than to apply for a job where that would be
required.  A background check, all it would take is a 10 sheet to see if I
have a record, but I don't.  Not yet, that's how I know I'm not a
psychopath.

   I don't know what I am, and I may be a little afraid to find out.  Could
they catch me for looking it up?  Checking out whatever books they might
have on the subject, I even tried to at the library, but the librarian kept
looking over.  At me, I could feel her eyes on the back of my neck.  She
must suspect, and checking out a book on rape would only confirm her
suspicions.

   Why else would a man want to read about that.

   It's sick, but I can't stop.  I know it's wrong better than anyone, and
I regret every last one, but I don't want to go to jail.  You know what
happens to guys in jail?  Especially if they're in for sexual assault. 
Hurting women, it just makes them want to hurt you.  Show you how it feels
to be the woman.

   I only raped once, and she'll never tell anyone.  She promised, and she
forgave me, but I still feel so guilty about it.

   I know I deserve it, but that doesn't mean I want to find out.

   What it feels like, to be raped.

   I can just imagine.
:
{Also, Denial.  Neither is going to write about it, for their own

reasons.  So, I'll just tack it on the end:

   She's not a Lesbian, of course.  It's just as good a cover as any for
her misandry, and "Feminism." As long as we've got MRAs spreading lies
about sexism against men, she might as well use it.  The part I feel
compelled to point out is the Rape "Fantasy."

   She was raped, by her brother, and she gets off on it.  Because that was
her plan, it hurt, it wasn't even sex, just the crowning moment when he
became an Anger Retaliator.  He hates her, but he loves her, because she's
his sister, and she sexually abused him.  For years, just like buttfucking
an Alpha male doesn't make him gay, nor even bisexual, being his molester
doesn't change their relationship.  She's still his sister, he still loves
her, even after she ruined his sexuality for life.

   You get that, but here's why she still gets off on him raping her in
retaliation, decades later: That's her endgame, her win condition,
subconsciously the point where he became "Mine." She "Forgives" him for
Control.  For once, it's not about sex, it's about Power.  What's he going
to do, tell?

   "Go ahead," tell, anyone you raped me.  What are you going to say when
they don't believe you, "She wanted it?" Even if it's true.  "She made me
do it!" She did, knowing that she could get away with it, and she could
hold it over him, for the rest of his life.  She forgave him, out of pure
Sadism.  Nothing, ever will compare to that, so it drives her escalation,
just like it drove his.

   Not in parallel, as they grew apart.  He can't escape that, without
killing himself, and he doesn't even have that in him, or he would have
tried by now.  So, he is her emotional prisoner for life, and she will
treasure that, always.  Unfortunately, she can't be satisfied with it. 
That's another fantasy, that she can ever be satisfied, and starting with
Ultimate Power means she will never even catch up to that 1 experience.

   But that won't stop her, from trying.  The challenge here was writing
it, so you could understand it.  What drives Anger Retaliation, with one
narrator completely ignorant of it, and the other lying about it.  I have
no way of know how successful I was, but if you made it this far, and you
enjoyed it, go ahead and let me know.  That's Psiberzerker@Gmail.com.}