The whole story *trigger*
Sick Puppy
Registrant
I wrote this up in an email to someone and then I thought maybe I should post it all, once and for all. I've posted parts of it but not the whole thing (unless I forgot about it... in which case, I'm sorry, but I have an awful memory.)
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My parents were very young when I was born (my mother had just turned 19, and my father was going on 20) and both were inexperienced. My mother slept around a lot so I don't know either if my father was really my father.
My mother barely laid hands on my from my birth to about age 3, except to beat me. When I was about 3 she began to prostitute me. This went on until age 10. I'm not sure when the incest started but I think it must have started around the same time, or a little before, the prostitution.
In the beginning she would just play with my genitals, or make me play with hers, or make me eat her out. She would bring me to bed with her (my father usually slept on the couch or was not at home) and touch me through the night. I hated it. Despite my experience with sex I didn't really understand what it was she was doing, but it made me scared and sad, and I would sleep as curled up as I could so that she could not get to me. Sometimes she would also use strap-ons or dildos and put them in my butt.
When I was 10 my parents divorced, my mom re-married to a rich guy named Ray, and she got custody of me. My sister went to live with my father. My mother quit selling me, because she had plenty of money now that she was with Ray. For the first few months they ignored me entirely but Ray coerced me into the basement one day and raped me, and then he would get drunk and come into my room at night and do things to me. My mother wasn't aware of this, as far as I know.
On the Christmas I was 12, I remember needing money. Ray was drunk, and my mother was passed out on the couch. I offered Ray 20 bucks to fuck me. I'm not sure why it didn't occur to him that he could just overpower me like he usually did, but he gave me the 20 bucks and he fucked me on the floor in front of the couch. I don't know if my mom woke up at all and saw that, but later she started to leave the door open when she and Ray had sex. One time in the night I woke up to see them having sex on the floor in my bedroom. I pretended to be asleep.
My mom started making me fuck her. I was old enough to have actual intercourse now. I was highly sexualized from being exposed to it at such a young age, and my hormones were raging, so I went along with it. I still didn't really understand what it was that I was doing. I hated doing it, but I was scared of my mother. This went on until I was about 14, when she went to jail on drug-related charges, and Ray skipped town, so I went to live with my father.
Things were OK with my father (he was a good man, never abused me, although he was an alcoholic and spent a lot of his time crying to himself) although I continued to sell myself on the streets as a source of income. I had been into drugs for a while now. When I was 14 I started to break down mentally and show signs of what would later be diagnosed as schizophrenia. I got into heroin and my father, after giving me many chances to straighten myself out, kicked me out of the house and sent me to go live with an uncle in Boston. The uncle kicked me out as well and I spent the summer on the streets, selling myself, before I managed to get back to my dad's house. At that point he brought me to a psychiratrist and I was prescribed medication for my schizophrenia, and I stablizied, although I continued to take heroin.
At 15 or 16 I met a nice girl, who was good as a friend I suppose, but I felt no romantic feelings for her. She, however, was quite in love with me. We eventually moved in to an apartment together and left my father alone in his house (my sister had moved out recently as well.) His mental health deteriorated and he ended up losing his job and having to move to a crappy motel/apartment building. Not long after this, he committed suicide. This hit me very hard and I dropped out of school. I locked myself in my room for a few days and then vented my anger my setting fire to a rich family's summer house at the outskirts of town. I felt guilty (and knew I would be caught) so I confessed, and was sentenced to two years in a state prison.
In prison I was attacked almost immediately, in the showers, by about 12 men. I was raped by each one of them and left on the floor where I lost consciousness. I was brought to the prison hospital and once I got out of there I was gang raped several more times. After that I had to submit sexually to the other prisoners and become their "punk" so that I would not be gang raped again. I was passed around a lot and sold a lot and changed owners several times. I eventually was settled down with one man (named Dave) who was a lot kinder to me and more receptive of my feelings. If I cried he would not mock me or fuck me, he would comfort me. He did still have sex with me though but I guess technically it was voluntary... well, I guess all the sex since the gang rapes was voluntary, but I only chose it because it was that, or get gang raped again. I'm not sure if I can call the rest rapes, but I didn't like it.
With Dave though I felt better, and it stopped being so much of a rape and more like just a task I had to complete, like when I sold myself, and then it began to progress beyond that and I felt an emotional connection with him. I had never felt this with anyone before, male or female. It scared me. When I was let out in the year 2000 I quickly pushed all this to the back of my head, and got involved with a series of very troubled women.
The one that lasted longest was Sarah Jean. She was abusive towards me and whenever we had sex I thought of my mother. At this point I was feeling very sexually confused and would often fantasize about men during sex or masturbate to gay porn. I told myself that it was just the sex act that excited me, not the genders involved, and that I would masturbate to straight porn if I could, but the women always reminded me of my mother. That much was true; that they made me think of my mother, even if they didn't look like her.
Last summer (2002) Dave got out of prison and contacted me. I agreed to meet him again. We ended up having sex, although I can't remember which one of us initiated it. I had been planning to say "yes" if he asked for sex because I wanted to repay him for protecting me in prison, and in a way saving me. I think that if I had not had his kindness to fall back on, I would have gone insane. We saw each other many more times over the summer and I began to have feelings for him again. In the late summer/early fall I kicked Sarah out, and devoted to Dave as my full-time boyfriend. I was very happy with him. In the fall I came out to my family and for the most part they were understanding and receptive. I am still with Dave, and we're going to move to Santa Fe together in August. He is a wonderful man. I suppose I am gay, although I do wonder a lot if I would still be gay had I not been abused by my mother. That sort of thing bothers me all the time.
Well... that's it. My story. That's almost everything there is to say.
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My parents were very young when I was born (my mother had just turned 19, and my father was going on 20) and both were inexperienced. My mother slept around a lot so I don't know either if my father was really my father.
My mother barely laid hands on my from my birth to about age 3, except to beat me. When I was about 3 she began to prostitute me. This went on until age 10. I'm not sure when the incest started but I think it must have started around the same time, or a little before, the prostitution.
In the beginning she would just play with my genitals, or make me play with hers, or make me eat her out. She would bring me to bed with her (my father usually slept on the couch or was not at home) and touch me through the night. I hated it. Despite my experience with sex I didn't really understand what it was she was doing, but it made me scared and sad, and I would sleep as curled up as I could so that she could not get to me. Sometimes she would also use strap-ons or dildos and put them in my butt.
When I was 10 my parents divorced, my mom re-married to a rich guy named Ray, and she got custody of me. My sister went to live with my father. My mother quit selling me, because she had plenty of money now that she was with Ray. For the first few months they ignored me entirely but Ray coerced me into the basement one day and raped me, and then he would get drunk and come into my room at night and do things to me. My mother wasn't aware of this, as far as I know.
On the Christmas I was 12, I remember needing money. Ray was drunk, and my mother was passed out on the couch. I offered Ray 20 bucks to fuck me. I'm not sure why it didn't occur to him that he could just overpower me like he usually did, but he gave me the 20 bucks and he fucked me on the floor in front of the couch. I don't know if my mom woke up at all and saw that, but later she started to leave the door open when she and Ray had sex. One time in the night I woke up to see them having sex on the floor in my bedroom. I pretended to be asleep.
My mom started making me fuck her. I was old enough to have actual intercourse now. I was highly sexualized from being exposed to it at such a young age, and my hormones were raging, so I went along with it. I still didn't really understand what it was that I was doing. I hated doing it, but I was scared of my mother. This went on until I was about 14, when she went to jail on drug-related charges, and Ray skipped town, so I went to live with my father.
Things were OK with my father (he was a good man, never abused me, although he was an alcoholic and spent a lot of his time crying to himself) although I continued to sell myself on the streets as a source of income. I had been into drugs for a while now. When I was 14 I started to break down mentally and show signs of what would later be diagnosed as schizophrenia. I got into heroin and my father, after giving me many chances to straighten myself out, kicked me out of the house and sent me to go live with an uncle in Boston. The uncle kicked me out as well and I spent the summer on the streets, selling myself, before I managed to get back to my dad's house. At that point he brought me to a psychiratrist and I was prescribed medication for my schizophrenia, and I stablizied, although I continued to take heroin.
At 15 or 16 I met a nice girl, who was good as a friend I suppose, but I felt no romantic feelings for her. She, however, was quite in love with me. We eventually moved in to an apartment together and left my father alone in his house (my sister had moved out recently as well.) His mental health deteriorated and he ended up losing his job and having to move to a crappy motel/apartment building. Not long after this, he committed suicide. This hit me very hard and I dropped out of school. I locked myself in my room for a few days and then vented my anger my setting fire to a rich family's summer house at the outskirts of town. I felt guilty (and knew I would be caught) so I confessed, and was sentenced to two years in a state prison.
In prison I was attacked almost immediately, in the showers, by about 12 men. I was raped by each one of them and left on the floor where I lost consciousness. I was brought to the prison hospital and once I got out of there I was gang raped several more times. After that I had to submit sexually to the other prisoners and become their "punk" so that I would not be gang raped again. I was passed around a lot and sold a lot and changed owners several times. I eventually was settled down with one man (named Dave) who was a lot kinder to me and more receptive of my feelings. If I cried he would not mock me or fuck me, he would comfort me. He did still have sex with me though but I guess technically it was voluntary... well, I guess all the sex since the gang rapes was voluntary, but I only chose it because it was that, or get gang raped again. I'm not sure if I can call the rest rapes, but I didn't like it.
With Dave though I felt better, and it stopped being so much of a rape and more like just a task I had to complete, like when I sold myself, and then it began to progress beyond that and I felt an emotional connection with him. I had never felt this with anyone before, male or female. It scared me. When I was let out in the year 2000 I quickly pushed all this to the back of my head, and got involved with a series of very troubled women.
The one that lasted longest was Sarah Jean. She was abusive towards me and whenever we had sex I thought of my mother. At this point I was feeling very sexually confused and would often fantasize about men during sex or masturbate to gay porn. I told myself that it was just the sex act that excited me, not the genders involved, and that I would masturbate to straight porn if I could, but the women always reminded me of my mother. That much was true; that they made me think of my mother, even if they didn't look like her.
Last summer (2002) Dave got out of prison and contacted me. I agreed to meet him again. We ended up having sex, although I can't remember which one of us initiated it. I had been planning to say "yes" if he asked for sex because I wanted to repay him for protecting me in prison, and in a way saving me. I think that if I had not had his kindness to fall back on, I would have gone insane. We saw each other many more times over the summer and I began to have feelings for him again. In the late summer/early fall I kicked Sarah out, and devoted to Dave as my full-time boyfriend. I was very happy with him. In the fall I came out to my family and for the most part they were understanding and receptive. I am still with Dave, and we're going to move to Santa Fe together in August. He is a wonderful man. I suppose I am gay, although I do wonder a lot if I would still be gay had I not been abused by my mother. That sort of thing bothers me all the time.
Well... that's it. My story. That's almost everything there is to say.