"They were too young to know that what they were doing was wrong" (a mere 25 pages) (2235 hits)
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Submitted by Thor (View user info) at 2005-11-01 03:29:52 EST
.......................................The Formative Years..................................
"Children of the future age
Reading this indignant page
Know that in a former time
Love! Sweet Love! was thought a crime
William Blake
"A Little Girl Lost"
1794
"I think I made an impression on Donna with all that ... ah ... paedophiliac talk the other night" said Louis, in something of an undertone, into the telephone. He glanced furtively around the office.
[[FILL OUT WITH CHARACTER (APPEARANCE INCL.) DESCRIPTION AND OFFICE SETTING]]
"Yes, we were talking about that, and you certainly did" Ross replied.
"Oh really, what did she say?"
"Well, she's decided she didn't want you coming on that baby sitting thing next week"
"What! My god. Are you kidding me? She really said that?" laughed Louis.
"Yep".
"Jesus Christ. I hope you told her . . ."
"Oh yes. I gave her the spiel: In This Society Children Are Totally Safe in The Care of Louis Kolak" said Ross.
"Well I'm glad to hear that. I mean, look at my track record. A year in Coff's looking after those two little brats."
"I told her about that too."
"Oh good. I was under considerable pressure up in Coff's, you know. I told you about the time I woke up to find Nicola bouncing up and down on my cock, didn't I?"
"No?"
*
It's extraordinary what you can read. The other day, for example, I discovered that pre-pubescent children apparently sometimes experience orgasm.
(The perhaps dubious) Kinsey has recorded female orgasm occurring at 4 months of age. One "intelligent" mother documented, rather zealously, the behaviour of her three year old daughter masturbating. The child (and who am I to doubt a mother?) lay face down with her knees drawn up. 44 smooth, rhythmic thrusts occurred, then a pause as she adjusted the doll with which she was pleasuring herself, then a further 87 thrusts. During the latter stages of these 87 thrusts the child became glassy eyed and "did not seem to know where she was". Her breathing intensified, and the rhythmic thrusts became abrupt jerks. After orgasm, the three year old rested for a couple of minutes, and then started again. 32 rhythmic ...
*
Louis darted another glance around the office, and continued in a low voice:
"Ha. Well, one morning I was asleep having an unusually pleasant dream. It wasn't far off becoming a wet dream, in fact. Then I woke up. For a moment I was dimly aware of a female face above me, and a female body grinding rhythmically against my groin. And that sensation of being on the verge of coming. I was about to let myself go when, thank god, the fog cleared and I realised where I was and what was happening.
The face above me belonged to Nicola, and she was squatting over my groin, thighs on either side of mine, rubbing herself against my very responsive and very hard phallus. I slept naked up there, and was only covered with a thin sheet."
For a moment my cock gave me all kinds of urgent signals about letting things continue for just a few more beautiful seconds, but somehow I snapped out of the trance and hurled her off me. I rolled onto my side, shielding my ENGORGED quivering nob from her with my back. It was such a close call.
I could just see her, the innocent 10 yr. old, rushing upstairs laughing to tell Daddy that Louis had just wet the bed. What a nightmare. But it shows how trustworthy I am, I think."
"Imagine if the semen had, with the force of ejaculation, penetrated the thin sheet and then the underwear of young Nicola" said Roscoe with one of his sinister, insane sounding laughs.
LOTS OF BIBLICAL QUOTEWS AND QOUTES FROM CHOLDRENS STORIES.
*
NOT MORE SATANIC VERSES ?
(plese not that I know nothinfg about islam and have never read any islamic literatrer. consequenyly, this piece of fiction has nothing to do with isam. I have never read a book by SAlmon rushdue. i do not trafic witht thr devil.)
[[Explian context of this quote, ie written more than ten years prior to sep 11, intended as example of taboo breaching only?
and metnion that I have sionce takled a bit of arab stuff, at least old man of montain story, which seems relevant in these troubled time: old man of montain, famous for sending out his hassish fueled assasins to knock off western leaders, was regarded by the west as symbol of heathen muslim evil, in fact he was an outcast himself disliked by majority of arabs, includig his ex-classmant omar khayim of rhubyait of omar khayim fame
ie, no need for fatwas against shandh from cloth heads or yankie imperialists or anti pedophile activists, be my friends be my friends be my friends etc]]
*
Little Cindy skipped gaily through the back door, humming a nursery rhyme. An enthusiastic and appealingly misshapen puppy bumbled in after her.
"Come on puppy dog, follow me."
*
Cindy's mother lay asleep. Inside her body special cells were beginning to multiply. Half an hour ago, at 3:07pm on this warm spring day, one of her husband's sperm had found its way into the lair of her egg. There had been a struggle, but the egg was trapped. Then two more sperm manic with exertion and sensing the egg's fear burst into the arena. They fought like rabid dogs until only one remained. He thrust into the defenceless egg and they became merged. Cindy's brother was conceived.
*
windblown field nervous army gulping picking at the scabs I must want to go bald the undergrowth fertile and sullen swollen rich hurled against the window drip drip down the glass pulp and fibre wipe wipe wipe little lady old man and the green leaves those green leaves, they speak gently.
*
Beside her, as consciously unaware of these events as his sleeping wife, Cindy's father had discovered a tantalising new amusement. Cindy had been in their room earlier that morning, and had left her watercolour paint set beside the bed.
*
The sperm travelled quietly into Cindy's mother's body, swimming to her pulses and rhythms. They were received into her splendid, powerful womb. In awe they marvelled at the chamber of life itself, humble before such beauty. The regal, perfect egg chose and accepted a pleasing partner, and they became united. The other was left to die. Cindy's brother was conceived.
*
Cindy's father (Mr Mawson) carefully rested the tin of watercolour paints on his naked belly. From a glass filled with water on the bedside table he removed the delicate brush, and with it began to stroke the contours of his PULSINGLY ERECT glans deferens. After a minute or two of this absorbing activity he dipped the brush back into the water, then into the blue section of his daughter's paint box.
*
The Litho club was it's usual self for a Thursday night. It rarely changed. Depending on one's mood, however, it could appear to be either a refreshingly human and `aussie' (there were never many obvious Lithuanians about) escape from the various pretensions of the university bar; or it could seem a meeting place for the most desperately brainwashed and moronic members of this fat, stupid society. The drone of the poker machines, the dribbling chatter of feeble minded pensioners, and the pathetic posturing of drunk young men and women craving sex and status, but actually desperately in need of love and affection.
If the conversation became engrossing, of course the background was soon ignored. This was the case for Donna, Louis and Roscoe when the talk was steered, by a drunken Louis, onto the topic of paedophilia.
*
Cindy had shown the puppy all her toys, but was still in a state of considerable excitement.
"I know puppy dog!" she exclaimed "I'll paint your picture".
For a few moments she searched gleefully through the mess she and her companion had just created, and then remembered where the paints were.
"Wait here puppy." She flung open her door, rushed down the corridor, and, forgetting herself, flung open her parent's bedroom door.
*
I am told that one in three Australian girls will experience, at some point in their childhoods, sexual contact with an adult. Most of these encounters presumably take place in an atmosphere of secrecy and guilt. A French study concluded in 1977 that only one in three thousand punishable acts came to the attention of the authorities. The war on child abuse, rather like the war on drugs, or any other war for that matter, is doomed to fail. It is understanding and cooperation, not war, that is required if the casualties are to be reduced.
*
she smiles and makes little noises now, and then, in her sleep, a little animal beside me grown up the old man's head covered in spots the laughing dalmation tongue lolling and drooling the sparkling sea fresh and clean plunge the waves - bushes - soft and firm and strong green and white and gray and blue her eye opens dilates the material is light and smooth, the decoration subtle a scarf, a shoe, a sarong a feather in the child's hand and the pleasure of the sky swirling plastic bags, babies totter gleeful hand stretched up up totter the train tracks connect lying low in the grass, modest symbols by the road skin so fragile brains so let me take your brain in my psalms and soothe and kiss it.
*
Mr Mawson snatched the sheet over his genitals, screaming "Get out" and waking his wife. But he had been too slow and little Cindy had seen it all in one terrible glance. She had seen the terrible blue and red MONSTROSITY poking up from between daddy's legs, and had registered her brush in his hand and her paint tin on his hairy belly. Then his broken scream reached her and she ran out slamming the door.
*
"Now that's a typical reaction Donna. As soon as paedophilia is mentioned people immediately pull the shutters down and all thoughtful exchange ends. It's a real bogey man isn't it? Child abuse is the phrase that immediately comes out. Forty years ago I dare say you would have been disgusted and put your righteous ignorant foot down if anyone had suggested sex before marriage."
*
He came into her doorway. His voice was soft but it sounded strange and frightening to Cindy. It was sweet but it reminded her of something, of an unpleasant smell. In fact, to the puppy's sensitive nose Mr Mawson did actually smell strongly. The smell was fear, and also, almost overwhelmed by the sweaty
fear smell, another smell the young pup did not yet understand.
"I've brought you your paints back"
*
Amongst the now fashionable Hopi Indians parents will lick their children's genitals to soothe them to sleep. Self-masturbation passes virtually unnoticed during early childhood. Typical forms of amusement for Trobriand boys and girls involve manual and oral genital stimulation, and 'simulated' coitus. The Chewa of Africa build huts for their children to play husband and wife in. They are encouraged to be promiscuous, to enable them to learn about sex.
*
Cindy flung the door open, galloped across the room and leapt up onto the bed beside her father. The puppy, showing a strangely human reserve, stood at the doorway peeping shyly in.
Mrs Mawson began to stir awake.
"I've told you to knock softly if our door's closed Cindy. Now you've woken mummy up."
Cindy hung her head in rather melodramatic shame, and looked up at her daddy with big, sorrowful eyes. "I'm sorry".
"Never mind Sarah Bernhardt. Just try and remember next time."
"I will try daddy and I am sorry it's just that I got such a good idea to play with puppy I forgot"
"What was your idea, darling?"
"OOH. Now I've forgotten that too. But what are you doing with my paints daddy? Why are you painting your wee wee?"
"A good question Cindy. Why are you painting your wee wee, dear?" asked Mrs Mawson, now almost fully awake and leaning up on one elbow.
"Don't you think it looks pretty"
"It looks yucky, daddy"
"Not the best"
"Oh. I thought it had a rather splendid look about it. Something ancient, like those blue Britons?"
The two females shook their heads.
"Well, to tell the truth, my motivation was more tactile gratification than visual enhancement. That came as an after thought, really" Mr Mawson remarked in his dry, thoughtful way.
"Let me see if I can make it better Daddy" said Cindy, as she took the brush from her father's hand and fixed him with a glittering eye.
Mrs Mawson smiled, and wriggled a little in anticipation of the entertainment.
*
"O.K then, exactly what is wrong, what is unpleasant or evil, about consenting, non-violent sex?" Louis paused for a moment as a river of coins jingled loudly out of a nearby machine. "I thought in this day and age it was regarded as a beautiful and 'natural' thing. And yet mention the world child in the same breathe as the word sex and you are immediately a monster. Obviously sex is not really free of its dirty connotations in this society. And obviously because of this it would be a monstrous thing to engage in sexual play with a child - not because the sexual play itself is necessarily monstrous, but because the social attitudes are so strong that the child could not escape grave psychological repercussions. Mind you, the psychological repercussions taken for granted now...The old little girl on daddy's lap and something comes up story, as one example, just think about that for a minute, just think how sick and tragic that embarrassment..."
"The reason I can't go along with any of this, Louis" interrupted Donna, now well and truly fed up, "is the element of force and control. How can a child know what they're doing when they submit?"
"Oh for christ's sake, do you really think it would always be a case of the child submitting? And what do you mean, know what they're doing? Does a child know what it's doing when it gets dragged off to school, or to swimming lessons, or faces its first bowl of icecream? What you mean is does a child know it might be aiding an adult to further their disgusting desire to have an orgasm, HIS disgusting desire, I should say, to ejaculate dirty DIRTY SEMEN out of his DIRTY DIRTY PENIS. That's what you really mean."
*
Cindy liked Gary, liked him a lot. But she would have to stop seeing him. And he was her best friend. She cried and sobbed, the terrible solitary grief that nothing could remedy. It wasn't Gary's fault that he wanted to touch her. She had tried to let him, but she just couldn't, she always felt so sick. And she could never tell him about what daddy had done to her almost ten years ago. She could never tell anyone that.
*
After a pause, Donna replied. "Most men who want sex with children are afraid of sex with adult women. They can't perform, and know that women today won't accept it."
Women today, thought Louis. There you have the classic statement from the Cleo and Cosmopolitan and New Woman branch of the feminist movement. Such gentleness and sympathy and love. But then why should we men expect these feelings to be directed toward us, he thought. After all, we are the monsters, the football watchers, the war mongers, the rapists, the destroyers of MOTHER earth. And anyway, those gentle feelings belong in the garbage can with the rest of the stereotyped role models which men have used to control and suppress wimmin. New wimmin, of course, compete on equal terms with men, with equal aggression unhampered by sentiment. Amongst other new wimmin, though, they will allow themselves to be `supportive' and `relate emotionally' to each others needs. And discuss Cosmo articles on weight loss and skin care.
But Donna had struck a nerve - the very large but very frightened ego that our society creates. Instead of voicing his thoughts, Louis defended his ego by saying that he, for one, was sexually mature enough to prefer older woman; "the more experienced the better."
*
Mr Mawson sat down next to Cindy on her bed, and now she also caught the stink of nervous sweat. He reached down and held her small hand in his. His face was turned away from her as he moved her hand onto the THROBBING BULGE in his trousers. As she touched it she recoiled automatically. Suddenly her father was on top of her, frantically thrusting himself between her soft thighs. She screamed with pain, and in an instant one shaking hand came down heavily and clumsily over her mouth. The thick fingers of the other were suddenly inside her underpants. She writhed but her screams where muffled and she could hardly breath.
*
"CHILD ABUSE CHILD ABUSE CHILD ABUSE" Nicola bellowed. Louis gave up his attempt to drag her into the kitchen and released her hand. They lived in a cluster of beach side townhouses, and sounds carried. A new strategy would have to be formed if he was to somehow coerce or cajole her into cleaning the gruesome splatterings of noodles and tomato sauce which had been flung throughout the kitchen in her most recent feeding frenzy. He had to admire her cunning though, in adopting this 'child abuse' ploy.
We lived in a cluster of beachside townhouses and any doubts that her screams reached our neighbours ears had recently been eliminated. The episode in question had almost been kept from me, but eventually they saw fit to reveal the sequence of events that led to Nicola's latest method of manipulation.
Before I begin, perhaps a little background is in order. My father and mother were divorced while I was still a child, my father remarrying the young woman who had been his Indonesian language tutor whilst he was ambassador in that country. This affair had 'blossomed' when my mother, my sister and I had returned to Australia. My sister's Indonesian psychiatrist, the first (and so far only) one to make any progress with her had died in a car crash. We took her to Sydney where she was hospitalised and received shock treatment. My mother had advised my father that if the desires of the flesh got the better of him in the year long separation he should be careful to be discrete. He was not.
So I had grown up with my mother, occasionally visiting my father and the family his new wife had apparently tricked him into siring. By the time it came round to my turn to have a psychotic episode my mother and much deteriorated sister were living in a small flat in Manly. I had been living on campus in Canberra and ended up being handcuffed and escorted by the police to the local psychiatric ward. Horrified family and friends descended and it was decided my father was in the best situation to take care of me (he was living in a very nice spot on the beach outside coffs harbour, and owned another townhouse adjacent to the one he and his second brood occupied.)
Before I arrived he decided to warn all of his neighbours that his son who was coming to stay might behave a little strangely as he was recovering from a nervous breakdown. When I arrived I weighed ten stone and my six foot two fat-free frame was topped by red shoulder length hair that was almost unnaturally thick, curly and tangled. A flaming red beard matched the hair, giving me the look of a hungry lion. I am told there was a definite wild gleam to my eyes, and I remember that my behaviour on the beach was, to say the least, eccentric - prancing round with obvious erections, sprinting madly with dogs, etc. That is, until the drugs my blank faced `doctor' prescribed took hold and I was flattened. Anyway, I have no doubt my presence was well and truly noticed.
The other members of my new `family' were Nicola, of course, then aged about 10, her brother Louis, almost seven, My fathers second wife Nana aged probably 39, and the patriarch himself aged 70.
Nana who is very caught up in all things mystic and esoteric had psychiatric troubles of her own (in fact, she is now seeing a psychiatrist) and soon after my arrival she left, as planned, for Sydney. She hoped to establish a career, or establish a persona or a spirit or something. I suspect one of the real motivations was actually escape from Nicola, who she could not cope with at all. Nicola certainly was a monster, and I could easily describe the conditions that made her - the servants in Thailand, the birth of Louis and his instant rise to favourite, delusions of grandeur etc etc - but I can't bear to, its too cliched. The point is Nana left and this event was, like my arrival, noted by Neighbour X. Neighbour X had also noted my father's age, and probably also his habit of traipsing around in stringy old gnarled-testicle-glimpse-exposing speedos.
But I knew nothing of Neighbour X when a neat looking man and woman turned up one afternoon at the front door. They asked for Mr Kolak. I explained he was out but would return shortly, and that I was his son. I invited them in to wait, which they refused, and offered to show them the local beach, which they refused. They left, and I returned to my afternoon slumbers.
Later I asked my father about them, and he has strangely cagey. Over the next few days he continued his polite evasion, and I continued my polite probing. At last, after exchanging some half amused conspiratorial glances with Nicola, he began to tell me the story. Before he had got very far the enthusiastic Nicola could not be denied and she took up the narrative.
"...yeah, right, the headmaster came and I had to go with him..."
"Do you mean you were actually called out of your class?"
"Yeah Miss Pierce called me up and Twisty, heh heh heh, he's the headmaster, he told me two people had come to see me and that I should answer their questions and he took me to the sick room and that creepy man and that lady were there and he left me there with them and they asked me all these questions like when did Mamma leave; and why did Mamma leave and when did David come and and did David or Pappa try and touch me and did anyone try and come in when I was going to the toilet or in the shower to look at me" She had spoken rapidly, staring unfocussed into space to concentrate, fat-lipped mouth gulping every few words. I had been riveted, but came to my senses and asked her what she had told them.
She replied "I told them about those stories you tell me about shitting on my head, and putting rocks in your pockets and swimming out to sea"
"WHAT!!"
Nicola and the old boy where highly amused by my reaction, and by my relief when Nicola told me she was only joking, of course she didn't tell them about the weird stories. My relief was also mixed with respect for Nicola's judgement and discretion.
And so it was this experience triggered by Neighbour X, and this is the whole point of this stupid boring rambling, that led to Nicola, when she was asked to do some chore or duty, screaming CHILD ABUSE CHILD ABUSE CHILD ABUSE CHILD ABUSE CHILD ABUSE. Her clever ploy was of course effective, as we never knew when Neighbour X might be listening.
It never occurred to me, of course, to relate the story of Nicola rubbing herself against my sleeping erection, to the investigators. I doubt they would have been interested in implementing mechanisms to protect me from a suspected predatory child.
Note nabakov's afterward to lolita. Having described to a tee the sexually aware little girl, and their flirtatious imitation of adult women, he denies everything! A clever irony, or a hypocrit? Note also that his voice in the afterward is identical to the voice of the story's narrator, bumbolt or whatever his name was
*
Mind you, we do have sex education in western schools now. It's very valuable. They come round with their model penises and TRANSPARENT PLASTIC MODEL VAGINAS and show you (if your parents are liberated enough to give you permission to attend) what goes where and advise you about lubrication and condoms. This gives great insight into the emotional element of sex.
But perhaps, I hear you snigger, or sigh with pity, it is me, your impartial author, that is warped.
I assure you this is not true. My girlfriend is very slim and looks just like all those girls in the shop windows and on the magazine covers and in all the TV shows and movies. And I make sure she has an orgasm every time we sleep together. I can tell she's coming because she MOANS and GROANS and says "Yes oh yes yes" in a throaty voice.
*
So they had just paged Nicola out of a class, summoned her to the headmaster's office, and drilled her with questions about Daddy or your brother touching you or peeking at you in the toilet; and why did your mummy leave? No warning. No research. Reduced her to tears. I'm surprised they didn't POKE THINGS UP HER ARSE to see if she reacted strangely. All because an anonymous neighbour with a telephone thought it wasn't appropriate for a little girl to be in such a strange house with no women in it. Only men, and eccentric men, at that. (mind uyou, there was nicollo's dreadful howling and screaming, I guess, in defense of the neighbour's motives)
Fortunately, Nicola is a resilient child (as well as being a tyrant) and possessor of a cunning wit. So now if someone suggests she do a chore, or that it might be time to stop watching gory sex riddled violence on TV and go to bed, she is likely to scream, in her deafening voice: "CHILD ABUSE CHILD ABUSE CHILD ABUSE CHILD ABUSE"
*
Cindy's small hand guided her father's recently washed phallus into the
receptive vagina of her mother, who was on hands and knees, giggling and
making a mooing noise. She hugged her mother tightly, laughing and blowing
in her ear.
Cindy always enjoyed the excitement of these occasions, and the gentle rest
that followed. There was something magical about the closeness. It was
like lying on freshly mown grass with the puppy dog, looking up into a
starry summer night; or listening to Auntie Anne read a favourite bedtime
story. She wished she could talk to her school friends about it, but she
would have to wait until she was older. It seemed so silly. After all,
their parents hugged and kissed too...
*
Persian carpets candles music deep set piercing eyes incense curry radiating life inside the stomach smot tome tummy turbans gold earrings treasure chest cushions silk computer hashish alsation watchdogs in the mind safe and strong safe and strong grapes a red blood plum a guitar a thin dress with bells books and a cat pictures levity a trellis a vine red wine no clitoris in the basket smearing the bible pages no knives of god no clock cardhouses humptu dumpty the forehead smooth the legs arms torso face relaxed inside relaxed the heart and breath strong the eyes glitter a little too sharply no enemy threatens they have been outmaneuvered and ignored; a boat, a small vessel with one sail, a black sea, a thin crescent moon bright stars on deck hair tied back in a scarf humour moist with sadness and tears of joy the tree bark rust the green leaf squeezing trying to get the right shape for a moment the rain, the flowers crushed in the basket of her skirt. the coiled telephone black.
*
the coiled telephone black.
Filthy monsters behind bars Mr Mawson(both of him) and Mrs Mawson behind
bars all the same orphanage just another fucking heartbreak where is there
not a heartbreak if there is one unbroken when there is i have found them
always smug smug success is all that counts HOW CAN I DESTROY THIS RIP THE
CABLES OUT TEAR SCRAPE MY FINGERNAILS THROUGH STOP THAT RED SUBURNED
WRITHING PEEL THE LAYERS DIG INTO softly there must be a richness
*
Cindy was very fond of Gary, and she was quick to guide him past his
inhibitions and brainwashed male role playing.
He was able to accept with open curiosity, as they lay entwined, Cindy's
revelation that she had been playing with cocks and cunts (among other
things) since before she could walk. He even suggested she had something to
offer "this sex mad world", and could probably make some money while she was
at it...
*
Beyond all else, I would like to live in a society where people (including myself) were
friendly. Unfortunately, there are many forces operating on humans which
make us afraid of strangers. In my formative years in my society
there was a "Stranger Danger" advertising campaign, warning us children to avoid all
strangers at all costs, lest they should force us to commit dirty acts. It had a very catchy jingle. The authorities have now realised that most of these dirty acts occur within the
circle of friends and family. Will we soon see government, business and stakeholder co-sponsored "Father Danger" advertisements interrupting 'A Country
Practice' for the good of the community?
*
As the spotlight hit Cindy a tremendous joyous wave of sound gushed up from
the audience and engulfed her.
In the third front row Donna cheered and waved a banner. In her Mexican
style handbag was her copy of Cindy's self-help bestseller "Raising a Love
Child." She couldn't wait to tell her friends that she had actually seen
Cindy in the flesh. They would be so jealous, and her new boyfriend had
known about Cindy for ages, why, he had even met her. Wait till she got
home to Australia. And what would they say when they found out she was
pregnant?
*
And what of Nicola? (this 'story' seems to be grinding to an abrupt halt).
Well, no one who was not supposed to ever touched her in the wrong places.
She had a hand up her dress for the first time at fifteen, and the rather
nice, if a little macho, 16 yr. old boy fucked her the next night. Now
she's married and has a good career ahead of her in PR. She loves her
husband, enjoys water sports, has a good sex life, loves to dine out and is
really very successful and happy. She has a reasonable chance of not
winding up in the nuthouse or the divorce court. I think the statistics say
about 50% these days. So it's a good thing Louis never weakened and
'interfered' with her, because that would have worsened her chances of
avoiding these public facilities considerably.
*
Oh, I almost forgot Cindy's brother. Remember him, the sperm and egg wars?
He ended up being mopped off the bloody floor of Mrs Mawson's cell.
Everyone knows that prisoners hate child abusers. I still remember one of
the big, capitalised headlines from that day: "PREGNANT SEX CRIM RAPED WITH
BROOM HANDLE"
The End
POSTSCRIPT -
I almost forgot my main 'character'!
Louis worked for a while writing true confessions for a magazine called
'Cocks and Cunts', but finally got his big break into
advertising. When Cindy Mawson and her child-love revolution hit the
headlines Louis was thrilled. He attended a concert and devoured her
bestseller. She said all the same things he had said years before, and
still believed. And suddenly the world was listening. It was the beginning
of the new age, of, perhaps, that perfect society. No more sexual
obsessions and repressions and violence - sex would at last become a truly
beautiful and natural thing. Love, sweet love, would prosper. When his
agency won the Cindy Mawson account Louis was so ecstatic he almost started
to believe in some kind of god. He actually met Cindy herself, and was not
disappointed. Her eyes were so clear and open, and warm. Soon everyone
would have eyes like these, Louis was sure. Furtive, frightened, greedy,
frustrated eyes would become a thing of the past. And he was going to help
spread the word. It seemed so divinely appropriate.
The months and years went by, and Louis did indeed spread the word. He
became a great success in his own right.
It seems, however, that he lost track a little of his precious youthful
ideals.
He was responsible for the famous campaigns that saw such products as 'The
Cindy Mawson Edible Crotchless Love Diaper' and 'The Cindy Mawson
Love-Me-Fuck-Me Teddy' take off.
He never met Cindy a second time - she was always surrounded by a legion of
body guards, managers, and advisors.
Right now, he's racking his million dollar brains to come up with something
to counteract the very successful McDonalds's 'Junior Love Burger' promotion.
Those free Ronald McDonalds shaped health authority and community stakeholder
sponsored and approved dildos, Louis feels, are the bitter end.
The end
[[THINK FRANKESQUE RYTHM FIRST RYTHM THROW IN NON RELATED (LOGICALLY) SCENES LIKE TREE IN GARDEN OR TOMATO LITTLE RED APPLE. ALSO BiBLE AND SUPERNATURE STUFFanthropology angle ie what age is old enoough give tribal examples should we go and sop the savages?]]
And now, here as a special bonus is the outline for another story on this theme that I planned to do about 15 years ago. I think it also has rock opera potential galore:
CONCEPTS AND THEMES:
* In this story I attempt to suggest that by looking at the question of child sexuality we see that the modern view of sex in general is limited and perhaps even self-contradictory:
1. In our liberated society many of us believe that sex and the naked body are beautiful and natural things. This is pretty much the standard view, at least in theory.
2. Children themselves, from very early ages, appear to be potentially sexual beings. The few studies of human sexuality that have been made indicate this strongly.
If we accept these two points, as many people do, it is logically quite difficult to argue in favour of constraints (except for the usual protections regarding consent, violence etc) on child sexuality and on child-adult sexual contact. In puritanical times, when sexual pleasure was seen as an evil, and the only legitimate purpose of sex was reproduction, it was logically consistent to ban all forms of child sexuality. But now it isn't.
Of course there are many other factors that would come into the debate - but the point is that there is no debate. Mainstream discussions of incest and child abuse are based on the assumption that any form of child/adult sexual contact is wrong and must be prevented - by social reform and education and by the police. If we want to hold firm in this belief of wrongness then it seems to me we need to make alterations to the beliefs described in the two points above, if we also want to avoid self-contradiction.
* The difficulty and irony of attempts to "better" ourselves as people could be considered a background theme to the story.
TECHNIQUE:
The story is told in the third person past tense by an unseen omniscient narrator. The plot follows a lineal progression in time. The characters are not delved into in great depth - they are mainly vehicles for the themes described above. Factual data from anthropological, legal and scientific sources is quoted or refered to. The tone is light, and deadpan when describing scenes that might be considered shocking.
CHARACTERS:
Mr and Mrs Smith are a nice couple. Environmentally aware, they use string bags when they go shopping. They try to buy Australian made products. They enjoy low cholesterol levels due to low-fat low-salt vegetarian meals they prepare together. He's a computer programmer, well paid and works his own hours. Just finished a course in Chinese massage. She's a freelance graphic designer who hasn't worked much lately - she's been `getting into' herbs and crafts and `being a mother'. They now enjoy a great sex life, one they have worked on with sometimes painful openess during the course of their eight year relationship. Once, several years ago, they even sought the services of a sex counsellor whose help they credit with saving their marriage. They are secretly very proud of themselves for achieving this. They are active in the parents and teachers meetings at the local school. They sponsor a child in the Sudan for $27 dollars a month. Her picture is on the mantlepiece with the other family photos.
They agree that Mr Smith has the more analytical, abstractmind and Mrs Smith the more intuitive and earthy. Mr Smith is working on getting more in touch with his feminine side.
Deep down though, he considers his mind the superior, and deep down she considers him a bit silly. However these buried thoughts rarely cause any disturbance to the superficial flow of their content lives. They have achieved a trust and a bond within their family they believe can withstand any troubles.
It would never occur to them that their lives are fabricated and self-conscious and driven by guilt and pride. Nor do they suspect this of their like-minded friends, although their relationship with these friends contains a strong element of barely concealed competitiveness - over who has done what for or to the ozone layer, the poor, the economy, their health, their children etc.
Joshua Smith is four years old and Louise Smith is six. Joshua is an angelic little child, self-contained and capable of amusing himself for hours on end with toys. Louise is also happy, but not as fond of being alone and a much more active seeker of company and attention. They have the usual squabbles and jealousies, but basically feel loved by their parents and love for each other. They are never disciplined with violence.
Louise sometimes feels Joshua is her mother's favourite, which is true, although Mrs Smith, having read her share of child rearing manuals, trys to overcome this.
The Jones family is very similar to the Smith family, but a littler older.
PLOT:
- The Smiths had always been believers in nudity around the home and their children had grown up with it. Both children had as babies been present in their parent's bedroom whilst copulation occured, and both had also witnessed this copulation at more sentient ages. It was family policy that sex should not be hidden away. However, about a year ago when Louise had started to become embarrassingly and persistently curious the parents had, without saying anything, fallen into a pattern of making love only when she was safely asleep in her own room. Occassionally they thought her behaviour a little odd - at times she seemed lewd - but it was nothing to worry about.
- Unknown to the parents Louise has been receiving instruction in masturbation from the 10 year old daughter of like-minded family friends (the Jones's). From her Louise also hears stories of fathers making exquisite love to young daughters.
- This is confessed by Louise after she has made a sexual advance to her own father (who handles the situation with great delicacy and sensitivity) in the spa bath.
- After anxiety and agonising the Smiths tentatively approach the Jones's with the child abuse reports. The young Jones girl readily admits that she has made it all up. It all seems a bit of a joke.
- On the topic of the girl's masturbation games the Jones' teach the Smith's that pre-pubescent child sexuality exists, and sexual play amounst children is natural and healthy. They share their scholarly research with the Smiths. Louise is pleased to hear that her behaviour is normal, and she and the Jones children flaunt their new freedom in ways that sometimes make their parents blush. It goes without saying, of course, that adult/child sexual contact is wrong.
- Mr Smith becomes consumed by lust for Louise, who, it seems to him, flirts in the most subtle and tantalising ways imaginable. He conducts his own research into child/adult sexual contact, becoming so paranoid he writes a false name on the loan slips in the National Library, and even considers buying a false beard for his research outings. {{authors note - quite funny if you know the actual author has a beard]]
He begins to develop far reaching ideas about society and sexuality, but agonises terribly over the immediacy of his aching lust. Louise becomes confused and frightened and perhaps also a little excited by the attention his mood swings bring. Mrs Smith appreciates the new heights of intensity her husband brings to their sex life. Mr Smith seems unstable - there appears a danger that he might do something violent and awful.
- In desperation he convinces his wife (without confiding his problem) that a change in family policy is necessary - the nudity and open sex play must cease. But his problem does not go away. Things look bad.
- Finally in the tree house father and daughter share sexual pleasure in a tender and beautiful way. For a few moments Mr Smith feels he has been saved by a miracle.
- Alas, Mr Smith now becomes consumed by guilt. What has he done? He sees Operation Paradox informants everywhere. Again there seems the danger of something violent and awful.
- He chops his penis off. The police piece together the horrible child abuse truth. Mr Smith is thrown into gaol. His family become the tortured plaything of the solemn legal system and the delighted media. A "Father Danger" television advertising campaign is introduced by a powerful new evangelical group calling themselves Remember The Fall of Rome. A far-sighted advertising executive starts seeking out sexy seven year old girls
But wait! There's more!
Here is a development of the above:
THE PROFESSIONAL WRITING STUDENT, HIS MOTHER, AND PAEDAPHILIA.
Dear Mummy,
Here is a copy of my latest misguided efforts:
IS SEX DIRTY ?
Few of us, in this sexually liberated era, would criticise a couple for exposing their children to nudity. Should modern parents hesitate to shed their clothing in the privacy of their own homes? When a modern couple feels the urge to make love, should they make sure the children are safely out of earshot and then bolt the bedroom door and draw the curtains ?
"Certainly not! Sex is a natural and beautiful thing, and parents today have a responsibility to convey this to their children. Hiding sex will only perpetrate the terrible inhibitions and shame of the Victorian age. We must teach our children that sex is not dirty."
A reasonable response? I'm sure you agree that it is. I think Colin Bowles, the Women's Weekly colomnist, would also agree. In the October Weekly he described some of the amusing incidents that have occured since his family started practising sexual "glasnost" - his little daughter, for example, telling startled afternoon tea guests "My Daddy's got a penis...it's YUK!".
Mr and Mrs Smith, whom I know quite well, are also prepared to suffer a little embarassment in the interests of Glasnost. They are a `nice' couple. Environmentaly aware. Low cholesterol levels due to low fat low salt meals they prepare together. Nice architect designed house. He's done a course in Chinese massage. She's into herbs. Great sexual relationship. Two kids - Joshua's three and Louise is five. In summer they don't worry about clothes around the house, and they love to pile into the spa together.
After a serious talk Mr and Mrs Smith decided they should take their sex life right out of the closet. They didn't want any secrets in the family, didn't want their kids getting any hang-ups. They decided their bedroom door should never be closed.
Joshua, at first amused, soon became quite indifferent to the newly revealed sexual activites. However, Louise's curiosity seemed insatiable.
And a secret came into the Smith's home...
Every night, after being tucked into her own bed, Louise would entertain herself with vivid sexual fantasy; and quitely, furtively, she masturbated.
One day she and her father were sitting together in the spa, au naturel, of course. Mrs Smith was at her tai chi class. Joshua was playing with his Lego. Curious as ever, Louise was asking her father about sex. Following family policy, Mr Smith was open and honest. He replied that he loved to touch and kiss mummy all over her body, particularly her special place, and yes, she loved the feeling. They did it because they loved each other.
"Do you love me too?" Louise then asked, climbing onto her father's lap. Mr Smith gulped and nodded.
"Then will you kiss my special place too please daddy?"
Mr Smith gulped again as her small hand moved onto his shamefully hardening member.
At this point things become black and white. If Mr Smith were to defy our societies laws and kiss or touch his daughter's special place he faces a maximum penalty of twenty years imprisonment. Cunnilingus, felatio, fingers in orifices: all are legally defined in the Sexual Offences Act as equivalent to full sexual intercouse. Legally there is no distinction between violent or non-violent contact. Where any form of sexual contact occurs between an adult and a child, the adult is guilty of sexual assault.
So to return to Mr Smith. He faces a dillema. He and his wife have described, and demonstrated, the wonders of caring, uninhibited sex to their children. They have also advised the youngsters that sex is only for grown ups. As the spa bubbles around him, Mr Smith repeats this advise. Little Louise then reveals her secret - she has been touching her special part and has found the sensations highly desirable. She even uses the word `orgasm'. Mr Smith assumes this to be childish imagination. Fortunately, he is a sensitive modern man. He does not push the child away and retreat, leaving her rejected and confused, perhaps establishing a distance between father and daughter that will never be bridged. Instead he takes her offending hand and holds it warmly in his. He tells her that sometimes life can be very confusing. He promises he will talk to her about it later, with mummy.
Having overcome the deep distrust of all men she had felt in her early days as a member of a rather misguided feminist collective, Mrs Smith does not recoil in disgust when later that day her husband describes the events in the spa. She does not gather her children and flee to the nearest wimmin's refuge. Instead, our happy couple agree to seek professional advice from a child psychologist.
From her they are astonished to discover that sexual activity and apparently orgasm is not uncommon amoungst pre-pubsecent children, occuring even in children younger than four. With keen interest and the open-mindedness that characterises their relationship they devour the statistics and the graphic physiological descriptions of spasms, thrusts and contractions. They are very suprised that the Kinsey studies of the 'fourties and 'fifties are still arguably the most valuable. They wonder why there aren't any better, more modern studies.
I was certainly surprised to learn about child sexuality. My own recolections of those innocent days before puberty are entirely that - innocent. But as Kinsey points out, we are all as varied in our sexuality as we are in our phsiognmy.
Mr and Mrs Smith explain to their daughter that it is quite natural for her to touch her special part, and she should do it whenever she feels like it - at home. But she must not do it anywhere else as other people are very silly and don't understand and think it's rude. As for sexual involvement with any grown ups, well, it's just not a good thing. It's wrong. When she grows up herself she will understand.
And so a new wave of sexual liberty swept through the Smith home. Some of their friends with similar lofty ambitions for well-adjusted children followed the Smith's example. At dinner parties, it was often difficult to concentrate on the conversatation. From underneath the table there might come grunts and squeels and giggles. Over on the rug in front of the TV Louise could perhaps be observed fellating Mr and Mrs Jones' little four year old, while her buttocks were sloppily licked by Miss White's seven year old, who was simultaneously smearing his own genitals with the squishy remains of a chocolate profiterole. However, the parents usually managed to maintain reasonably relaxed and casual demeanors, sustained by the knowledge that their children's behaviour was perfectly natural and healthy.
They all knew about Malinowski and the Trobriand Islanders and all the other anthropological records of societies where sexual play amoungst children is not only allowed but encouraged. They admired these societies and their natural, untainted attitude to sex, and felt they should learn from their example.
They also all knew, mind you, that some quite happy and well adjusted native peoples allowed various forms of non-painful sexual contact between adults and children. They knew that
the beautiful, wise Hopi Indians licked their childrens genitals to soothe the youngsters to sleep. But this was never discussed at any of their dinners. Adult sexual contact with children was simply not right. This was a basic fact.
Mr Smith accepted this basic fact, yet he found his private thoughts increasingly turning to the smooth skin of his daughter.
And a second secret came into the Smith home...
Mr Smith was soon quite obsessed. Whenever he was alone with Louise his body ached with what he knew to be a shameful and perverted lust.
**** ****
And that, dear mother, you will no doubt be pleased to hear, is as far as I've got on this socially important work. And as far as it will go, in this form.
As I was reading back my carefully chosen words I realised, by the time I got to the chocolate profiterole episode, that my approach would not get the message through to anyone but those who had already thought about such things in an unconventional way. For most people in civilized western society mentioning the word sex in the same breath as the word child immediately conjurs pictures of lurid violence and abuse and big newspaper headlines. Also, my tone seems to lack the seriousness appropriate for such a delicate topic. And such a huge topic - there are so many aspects and factors. But I DO want to convey my own thoughts. Really I should abandon this ludicrous hypothetical stuff and get down to serious argument. But even then who would touch it? And I am sick and tired of it all. This fucking thing is due in tomorrow.
And I want to pass this fucking 'Professional' Writing course. Which is why I'm writing this fucking letter. Obviously no normal magazine would publish the article "Is Sex Dirty ?", regardless of how I finished it. Obviously it would therefore be impossible for me to name a targeted magazine for the article, which professional writing students have to do when they hand their work in to teacher.
It is also obvious that no magazine would touch the article "The Professional Writing Student, His Mother, And Paedaphilia." However, I think it would not be totally insane to tell teacher that I have targeted this article at literary magazines - the work in progress angle, the PW students are writers of the future angle, the wanky (note the dirty connotations) originality angle, the catchy title angle, the writer gagged by conventional attitudes angle - pretty tenuos stuff I agree, but I have no choice. You see, part of the rules of this fucking course (and this should be of tremendous interest to readers of literary mags) state that if students choose as their second assignment to interview somebody then this interview must be used in the third and final assignment. I interviewed Sergeant Liz Quade of the police Child Sexual Assualt Unit. Talking to her I found out what I already knew - the legal processes surrounding child abuse cases cannot cope with the complications of the situation, in particular the dillema that if children are too young to make choices regarding sexual activities, they are also too young to have their word taken at full value in court. Offenders therefore often escape punishment. However, she made one remark that interested me greatly. As part of her duties she interviews children who have been abused. I asked her how disturbed the children seemed. She replied that this varied a lot, but added that the younger victims, where they had experienced no pain, did not seem very upset at all, as they were "too young to know that what they were doing was wrong".
There. I've used my interview.
Now, according to my calculations I've probably already accumulated at the very least 40 marks. So if "The Professonal Writing Student, His Mother, And Paedaphilia" scores 10 out of 25 I will pass the unit. If I failed, I know the shock would come as a terrible blow to you mother, following so soon on the heels of your stroke and the closing down of the nursing home. But don't worry. My teacher is a wonderfully sensitive and perceptive person who I'm sure will see enough merit in my wretched efforts to ensure I pass the unit.
Love,
Junior
User Reviews
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2007-10-11 09:31:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
fabulous
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-10-11 09:18:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I can't believe I read all of that...
...wait, yes, yes I can. Nicely done.
Submitted by PhillipTheGreat (user info) at 2007-10-10 21:38:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by sideshow (user info) at 2005-11-02 21:18:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent piece of work. Some of the paragraphs were a bit choppy, but there was a lot of great stuff in there. For a fairly unheard of (at least by me) topic, it was were interesting and informative. It took me a few sessions, ya know being at work and all, but it was great.
I want to read more of your stuff.
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2005-11-02 20:15:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
thanks for not mentioning the mens mag thing
re adjectives: cock diddly off off off.
Submitted by shandythedog (user info) at 2005-11-01 22:13:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
don't mention the men's mag thing???
ok, i won't mention the men's mag thing.
mum's the word.
tell you what, i'll just send a discrete email about the men's mag thing. best not to mention the men's mag thing on uber at all, eh what?
re the twenty pages - as not much else is happening i suppose anything is possible.
but note the various adjectives and descriptions i used below.
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2005-11-01 21:20:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by DrSeussman (user info) at 2005-11-01 11:42:41 (#)
Ranking: -2
Because I'm ADD and you could have spread this out into a crap load of posts instead of just one.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-11-01 11:33:32 (#)
Ranking: -2
There's not enough MINUS on my keyboards for this.
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Submitted by youarewrong (user info) at 2005-11-01 11:26:04 (#)
Ranking: -2
If ANYONE reads ALL this -2 yourself.
Fuck off"""
A handy 'stupid as fuck' list.
By the way, your little description of me was handy, I may have that as my email signature.
But to be fair mate, I have only told you and teeephaphphphp on here about the mens mag thing so keep it under your hat will you?
thnaks.
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2005-11-01 21:08:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
so the twenty pages deal still stands?
Submitted by DrSeussman (user info) at 2005-11-01 11:42:41 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Because I'm ADD and you could have spread this out into a crap load of posts instead of just one.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-11-01 11:33:32 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
There's not enough MINUS on my keyboards for this.
Submitted by youarewrong (user info) at 2005-11-01 11:26:04 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
If ANYONE reads ALL this -2 yourself.
Fuck off.
Submitted by RyuFu (user info) at 2005-11-01 08:38:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2005-11-01 07:36:49 (#)
Ranking: 1
It held my interest for the first two pages or so. Then it didn't. Maybe I'm just too dumb to get what you are going for here. Then again, maybe not.
In any event, this just couldn't hold my interest.
Submitted by hairycoo (user info) at 2005-11-01 07:44:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
dark
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2005-11-01 07:36:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
It held my interest for the first two pages or so. Then it didn't. Maybe I'm just too dumb to get what you are going for here. Then again, maybe not.
In any event, this just couldn't hold my interest.
Submitted by shandythedog (user info) at 2005-11-01 06:26:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
spam, if you have an email address capable of receiving email, it would help
but, to put it briefly, unless the child-reading-prodidgy-business-class-travelling-men's-magazine-contributing-oil-profiteering-mummy's-panty-wearing-apullo88 suddenly comes up with the 20 flawless and groundbreaking and yet perfectly attuned to my my thought pages that were requested about 10 months ago, i will be plugging along with r and v alone. prob to return to original title of 'for pleasure'. i think we have basically agreed it's too hard to make a collaboration work in this case, and are dreaming of glory instead for the much underrated and misunderstood journey to the land of the cloth heads. though here too a delay is caused by apullo's slovenly ways.
so i suppose r and v, or 'for pleasure', should be finished sometime in the next twenty or thirty years - by which time it will all have come to pass and there will be no point reading it.
this is not part of r and v, though it was included with r and v in an absurd document that basically comprises everhting i've written, all mixed up.
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2005-11-01 05:53:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Is this R&V?
because you NEVER did tell me what was going on with that.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-11-01 05:51:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Shandy is a visionary. He will lead us all into a Golden age.
Submitted by missedthepoint (user info) at 2005-11-01 05:46:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I am at a complete loss for words.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-11-01 05:31:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I've often wondered whether I would have benefited from a sexually open childhood. I reckon the world would be a much less tense place if we'd all hungriy handled one anothers genitals as children.
Submitted by a_reader (user info) at 2005-11-01 04:48:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
WTF I AM NOT READING ALL THAT!!!!!!11!!
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-11-01 04:29:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 for having someone called Cindy in it. And cos it is good.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-11-01 04:13:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Over on the rug in front of the TV Louise could perhaps be observed fellating Mr and Mrs Jones' little four year old, while her buttocks were sloppily licked by Miss White's seven year old, who was simultaneously smearing his own genitals with the squishy remains of a chocolate profiterole.
--------
beautiful imagery.
Submitted by Barnymeinhoff (user info) at 2005-11-01 04:10:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
a lot of good stuff in there.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-11-01 04:06:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
http://www.ubersite.com/m/18580