Prescription:
An Enthusiastic Fucking
by Sterling
Chapter 1 of 11
"Consistent
with previous data ... over 1/4 of the current subjects self-reported
pedophilic interest or exhibited penile arousal to pedophilic stimuli
that equaled or exceeded arousal to adult stimuli ... arousal to
pedophilic stimuli does not necessarily correspond with pedophilic
behavior ... a sizable minority of men in normal populations who have
not molested children may exhibit pedophilic fantasies and arousal. In
recent studies, 12 to 32% of community college samples of men reported
sexual attraction to children."
-- Hall, Hirschman and Oliver, "Sexual Arousal and Arousability to
Pedophilic Stimuli in a Community Sample of Normal Men", Behavior Therapy,
26, 681-694, 1995.
Dr.
Black looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Alison Ferber's heart started
pounding. A doctor who was fidgeting and wouldn't make eye contact
usually didn't have good news. She usually had very bad news.
Her
9-year-old Cathy was sick, and at first she and her husband hadn't
thought much of it. It started like any ordinary GI bug, with stomach
pain and vomiting, and she held her daughter's hand and waited for it
to pass. As it went into its second day she got concerned. She thought
they should take her to the doctor, but her husband Jonathan convinced
her to wait a little longer.
When her daughter said she felt
funny "down there" Alison suspected it was something out of the
ordinary and took her in immediately.
As usual, Alison had been
present during the exam. In the memorable part, the doctor had Cathy
slide her panties down and spread her legs wide as she lay on the
examining table. Alison had seen the doctor gently pull her labial
folds back. Cathy was wet down there, and that didn't seem normal.
The doctor had made a point of having Cathy wait with the nurse while
she discussed her case with Alison.
"This
is a very unusual set of symptoms," explained the doctor. "We don't
have a name for it, but a couple dozen cases like this have surfaced in
the metro New York area in the past three weeks. Along with her stomach
bug symptoms, Cathy's genitals are affected. She reports no pain, and
there is no evidence of an infection. But her vagina has undergone the
same changes it would during puberty. Very unusual. Perhaps you've seen
some news stories about this?"
Alison shook her head. She wasn't an avid consumer of news.
"They
haven't been headline stories because we know so little." The doctor
took a deep breath and looked straight at Alison. "We do know that two
of those girls have died, and only three have gotten better. It is a
very serious condition. Antibiotics and antivirals seem to have no
effect -- we don't have any promising treatments. The one glimmer of a
lead we have is very, very strange and quite upsetting."
Alison waited while the doctor fidgeted for another couple seconds.
"One of the three girls who got better reported that her father ... had
sexual intercourse with her."
Alison was stunned.
"As
a mandated reporter of child abuse, her doctor had to notify the
police, and that girl's father is now in custody, and rightly so. But
in medical mysteries like this, we need to learn everything we can
without making our patients afraid to tell the truth.
"So when
that finding was reported on the forum we doctors use here in New York
to share information, the doctors of the two other recovered patients
approached it a little differently. They explained the situation and
also the mandated reporter law, inviting the parents to investigate if
anything similar had happened, but making sure they not actually tell
the doctor enough to trigger the law."
The doctor stared off
into space. "The results came in this morning. The anxiety and
confusion in the parental reports is unmistakable. Neither case is the
expected matter-of-fact 'Nothing of that kind happened.' So if you turn
on the news, you will see a huge story break within the next couple
hours."
Alison's mind was spinning. "Who would ... abuse his
daughter when she's so sick? I mean, I can't understand how a monster
could abuse his daughter anyway -- but when she's sick?"
"Yeah,
that's a good question. Nothing justifies it, but in terms of
understanding it, the changes in a girl's genitals are the most
stunning feature of this disorder. Her vagina looks like it's ready for
intercourse. The disorder even lubricates it -- as you saw with Cathy.
That one girl they examined showed no physical trauma, and in her
description it happened fairly naturally. She told her father her
genitals felt funny. He looked, then felt with his fingers. Granted,
the huge majority of fathers wouldn't go further than that, but her
condition did bring the opportunity to his attention. Her stomach
cramps and vomiting did not recur after intercourse, and she has been
better for 48 hours now.
"Now, that brings us back to your
situation. Child rape is a serious crime and typically causes
psychological harm to the girl persisting into adulthood. I could lose
my license and face criminal prosecution if I suggested anything
illegal to my patients. We'll give your daughter antibiotics and
antivirals, of course, but the evidence suggests they will do no good.
And her condition is life-threatening."
"So we just give her the medicine? Anything else?"
Alison felt the doctor staring at her. "Make sure Cathy gets plenty of
fluids. Keep me updated on her condition."
"Oh, OK..." said Alison, gathering her things to go.
"Mrs. Ferber," the doctor said. "Are you going to tell your husband
about our conversation?"
"Yes, yes of course."
"Could you ask him to call me directly?"
"Oh, OK."
"You won't forget, now?"
"No, no," she said. She naturally wanted her husband's informed opinion.
Jonathan Ferber smiled as he hung up, in spite of the gravity of the
situation. He understood ass-covering.
"What do you think, honey?" his wife asked anxiously.
"I think we need to find someone to have sexual intercourse with Cathy."
"What?"
"That's what the doctor was saying."
"No she wasn't!"
"She
couldn't, in so many words, of course. She's covering her ass. But
she's saying it's the only hope we have for curing Cathy. I wonder how
on earth we can find someone."
"I think we should get a second opinion!"
"Fine," said Jon. "But it had better be quick."
The
best they could do for a second opinion was a doctor at the emergency
room. When they explained what Dr. Black had said, the doctor looked
uncomfortable. But he said he had similar information and wasn't aware
of anything Dr. Black had said that was incorrect. That was all Jon
needed to hear.
He and Alison spent hours listening to the news
story as it unfolded, getting the take from every angle, hearing the
commentators. The death toll had risen to 11.
Cathy got worse, her half-hour vomiting spells turning to dry heaves as
her stomach emptied of every last drop of fluid.
Who
could they get? There was one man who was willing to risk prison to
save her life. Him. Cathy was his daughter. Could he manage intercourse
with her?
He told her he needed to look at her privates. As he
stared, he felt a surge of something. Looking at women between the legs
was exciting. Seeing young girls that way was a curiosity -- Cathy's
cute little girl lips had been constantly staring him in the face when
she was a tiny girl. Cathy's labia were now bigger because she had
grown, and bigger still because of her condition. When he thought about
them as guardians of a place he might actually go exploring, he started
getting hard.
Cathy didn't sit up -- she just turned her pale, exhausted face from
parent to parent.
Alison's
eyes teared up as she held her daughter's hand. "You are very sick,
dear," she said. "This could go on and on. It doesn't seem like it's
going to get better."
"What do you mean?" asked the girl in her thin voice.
"It means that ... that you might die," said Jon.
"Jon!" said Alison as Cathy's eyes flew open.
"Well, she deserves the truth!" said Jon.
"I don't wanna die!" said the little one, eyes tearing up.
"Of course you don't, honey," said her mother. "We're going to find a
way to beat this!"
Jon took over. "There is one thing that might help -- might make you
all better. But it's really, really weird."
"You mean really horrible," said Alison.
Jon
gave her a cold look. "Let's leave it to Cathy to decide what's
horrible and what's not, OK? Some things might not seem so horrible
when you're facing death."
Alison held her peace.
"You know how you're feeling weird between the legs?"
"Yeah, kind of itchy," she said.
"Do you know... how babies are made?"
"Uuhhh, something about mommies and daddies and private parts."
"Right. Well, you know about boys' penises?"
"Of course," said the girl. She was too weak to give much umph to the
"duh" she meant to convey.
"You know how they get bigger when boys grow older? And get hard
sometimes?"
She nodded.
"What
might help you get better..." he said, and then paused. He took a big
breath, then the words coming in a rush, "What might help is for a man
to slide his penis into your vagina -- down where it's wet, you know?"
"What?"
"It's
how men and women make babies, but of course you're way too young to
have a baby. But when a man and a woman love each other, it can be a
beautiful thing. Mommies and daddies love doing that with each other.
We'd never ever let anything like that happen to you -- you shouldn't
even let anyone see your private parts of course -- but this is an
emergency," he said.
Cathy looked as disgusted as she could in her weakened state.
"It's your choice," said her mother.
Jon
wasn't sure about that. He really hoped it wouldn't come to that, but
he was prepared to rape his daughter if that was what it took to save
her life. He was embarrassed to feel a little more blood surge into his
penis.
Then Alison stepped up to the plate. "The way you are all
wet and itchy down there? That's nature's way of telling you that this
really strange thing has to happen to save your life."
That
seemed to calm Cathy down a little. "OK," she said, "if that's what I
need." She barely got the words out before another spasm of dry heaves
wracked her body.
When they had passed, Jon began again. "Then there's the question of
what man. Do you have any ideas?"
Their girl looked very young and very scared. "You, daddy," she said.
Alison
and Jon exchanged glances. "Ordinarily a man wouldn't do anything
sexual with his daughter at all. He'd be the very worst one to do
something like that because she trusts him to just be a loving daddy.
But we're having trouble thinking of someone better. We didn't think a
total stranger would be a good idea."
"What about Uncle Troy?"
Troy was Alison's brother, and he and Cathy always had fun together on
those rare occasions when he was in town.
"He's in California, sweetie," Alison said.
They couldn't think of anyone else who would even consider doing a
favor like that for them and their daughter.
"OK,
Cathy, honey," Jon said as soon as Cathy's spasm of dry heaves ended.
"Let me take your pajama bottoms and panties off... Now lie like that,
with your legs apart... Good."
He gently pulled her labial folds
apart. He could see how a penis could fit. She of course looked nothing
like Alison, whose vagina had been stretched by a baby's head --
Cathy's, to be exact. His daughter was very wet, and her vaginal
opening was easy to see. He slid his finger in a little.
"Now you hold yourself open like that when I come back, OK?"
"OK," whispered the very sick girl.
The
plan was that he would get excited to near orgasm by his wife, the
grown woman. Then he would transfer his penis to his daughter at the
very end.
Jon left and went to the master bedroom, shutting the
door behind him. His wife Alison lay in the same position he had left
Cathy in. Jon was wearing his pajamas, though with no underpants on
underneath.
Alison had been rubbing herself and her pussy was
wet enough. But she looked pained, not at all like a woman who was
interested in sex. Ordinarily such a look would have been totally
incompatible with offering herself to him. For him it was an oddly
liberating moment. Their sex life had been a quarterly event these past
few years. Pained expression or not, she turned him on, and his cock
was plenty hard as he worked it out of his PJs and moved into position.
He slid it home in Alison and began pumping away.
He liked
giving Alison pleasure, but she was obviously not planning to enjoy
this encounter. With their daughter's grave condition, he couldn't
blame her. But his male instincts allowed him to get hard and enjoy sex
even under stress. He had no need to pay attention to what she was
feeling, so it was tempting to just fuck away like an animal to a quick
orgasm. Male animals did that naturally. He felt himself especially
hard just thinking about it.
But he couldn't let himself go
because he had a very important job. He slid out of his wife and walked
down the short hall to Cathy's room, holding his slick, erect penis.
In
this next part of the plan, he didn't need to think about his daughter.
All he had to do was focus on her vagina, mature and ready to receive
him. Exactly which female a vagina belonged to didn't matter to a male
animal.
As he approached with his cock, her eyes were wide open
and she was breathing fast. He squelched his compassion; the next few
seconds were not a time to be concerned about her feelings. He would
have closed his eyes right away, but needed some visual guidance for
getting his cock started in just the right spot.
As he slid in,
though, it was a heavenly sensation. This vagina was much tighter than
Alison's, of course, and her lubrication had a lovely texture.
Eyes
closed, he tried not to think about his daughter. But when he
penetrated her, she said, "Weird!" in a surprisingly strong voice, and
mumbled similar expressions of surprise as he filled her more and more
with his cock. He could hardly ask her to keep quiet! But her
commentary removed any shred of an illusion that it was just a vagina
he was fucking. This vagina was part of his daughter -- and not just
some accessory. It was physically and emotionally close to her very
center.
But she needed some medicine and he was going to deliver
it. It took him 30 seconds before he ejaculated, longer than he had
hoped. He held himself still as the semen pulsed into her. He
deliberately didn't make any noise, though he couldn't hide his heavy
breathing.
"OK, all done," he said, sliding off and shoving his penis back inside
his pajamas.
"Wow," she mumbled, as he walked unsteadily back to his own bedroom.
As they had arranged, Alison slipped in as he left to check on her
little girl.
"Is she OK?" he asked when she rejoined him in the bedroom.
"Yeah," she said and sighed. "So, that's over with."
Yes,
Jon said to himself, it's over. All he had done was to convince his
male body to ejaculate as his penis was enveloped in hot, wet vaginal
tissue, and that was natural enough. That was the theory. That was the
way he ought to think about it, and that was the way he would think
about it. He would control his thoughts.
A
week before the first cases of what has been dubbed the Lolita Syndrome
struck, an anonymous blogger bragged that he had done something big:
"You
guys are all moaning about how horrible it is to be a pedophile, how no
one understands and how we're all doomed to either stay in the closet
or suffer repression just for our thoughts... Me, I'm not just
bitching. I've done something about it. Everything's going to change.
You'll see. Watch the news from New York. Society's going to get a pie
in the face on the big lie of just how horrible and monstrous it is for
men to feel attracted to young girls."
Blog entries are full of outlandish claims, but the Lolita Syndrome
seems to fulfill his predictions.
The
entry was signed "Angry Scientist", a fairly recent contributor to a
pro-pedophile site. Like many "moderate" pedophile sites, it claims
that it doesn't condone or encourage actual sex between grown men and
girls, but just provides a support group for men who feel those
attractions. Many people think the claim is disingenuous.
Genetically
engineering a virus to produce the Lolita Syndrome was thought to be
beyond the limits of modern technology. No public research programs
pursue goals remotely like the Lolita virus. "It has more in common
with germ warfare than medicine," said one scientist.
What about
germ warfare? As usual, government sources refuse to discuss biological
weapons issues as a matter of national security. Experts admit that
since they know so little of what goes on in the government labs, it's
hard to be confident that engineering a Lolita virus was as far-fetched
as they thought.
The timing and specificity of the blog entry prediction are uncanny.
Two
hours had gone by, and Cathy was still having the dry heaves. They had
lessened a little, but the reports from the others were that the girl
would feel much better within an hour, and Cathy was not feeling better.
Now
Jon was panicked. Their only treatment option had failed, and she might
have only days to live. He had broken the law, violated a powerful
taboo, and done just what good daddies never did to their daughters. He
had taken her dignity, something she could have possessed up until the
end. Now, her last thoughts might be how her daddy had violated her --
how he had raped her.
He sat in his agony, trying to think of a
way out of this impossible situation. A couple people had tried simply
squirting semen into a girl's vagina with an eyedropper, hoping for a
cure without the trauma, but it had no beneficial effect.
The Times
article kept coming back to him. This virus was designed by a man who
wanted to show that what pedophiles felt wasn't so terribly rare and
wasn't inherently evil. He hadn't designed it so semen in a vagina
could cure a girl. His goal was that a pedophile's attraction acted out
would cure a girl. That's what he wanted men and society at large to
discover.
His silent 30-second sex with Cathy certainly wasn't what a pedophile
would dream of.
He
imagined the sort of full and sensual sex people liked best. A
pedophile would probably dream of the same thing, but with a girl
substituted for a woman. Could he do it? Could he play the part of a
pedophile? He had this hunch that he could have gotten hard just
contemplating Cathy and didn't need any warm-up from his wife. Partly
he hadn't wanted Cathy to think he could get hard from looking at her
-- and he certainly hadn't wanted Alison to think that. Could he now
adopt the predator's point of view?
His inspiration was followed
by a mix of emotions. He felt a surge of hope for his daughter, he felt
a twinge of nausea, he felt guilt, he felt excitement and he felt a
strong pulse of blood in his loins. The guilt was partly at how his
daughter might react; what thoughts would plague her final hours if he
didn't succeed this time? But mostly the guilt was a realization that
if he did it, it couldn't quite all be acting. A man didn't get
erections from pretending.
Since this might take a while, he
needed to begin right after one of her spells of dry heaves ended. He
waited alone in the living room, heart pounding. He had time to change
his mind, but it continued to feel like the right thing to do -- the
only thing to do, Cathy's retching was painfully audible throughout the
house, and when she was finished he rose.
Alison was by her bedside, holding her daughter's hand, and he motioned
her to the hallway.
"Alison, I'm going to try again," he said. "I'm going to try it a
little differently this time."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Trust me. Just leave us alone, OK?"
Alison gave him a long look before she shut the door behind her.
"Hi, Cathy, honey, how are you feeling?"
The girl groaned.
"I want to have sex again, a different way, to see if it works this
time."
"Oh," she said, with no obvious emotion.
"I'm going to do it more like mommies and daddies would. Here, let me
help you out of all your clothes."
"You're going to see my chest, too?" the young thing managed to ask.
"I'm sorry, but yes... Mommies and daddies look at each other's bodies."
She
started to sit up but fell back in exhaustion. Instead, she lifted
herself up just enough at the right moments so Jon could get her
clothes off.
"Here, I'll take mine off too. See my penis? See how hard it is?"
"Yeah," Cathy said, tracking it closely with her exhausted eyes.
What
a great dad he was, asking her to admire his penis. He took a deep
breath. He'd have to put that sort of guilt aside to carry out his plan.
He lay down next to her and stroked her hair and her ear and her cheek.
Jon
wanted to be true to his theory. A pedophile would worship and adore
the body of a child. He wasn't a pedophile, so he imagined the body he
might worship: the most luscious, attractive 18-year-old in the world.
How would he treat such a girl if he could let himself go? He would
treat Cathy's body the same way.
He moved in for a kiss.
Cathy turned away, "What are you doing, Daddy?"
"I need to kiss you, Cathy. Like we were boyfriend and girlfriend."
Cathy had bad breath, but Jon didn't care. She let herself be kissed
and even returned his lip-to-lip caresses to some extent.
As
for Jon, he felt sensual joy. His cock was hard. At one level he hated
his response -- only a disgusting man could respond to his daughter
that way. But in the actual doing, in the actual sensations, it was
wonderful. He would worry about the implications later. What mattered
now was that he might save Cathy's life.
While he kissed, he
used his free hand to run all up and down the girl's arm, along her
side, and over her chest. He lingered on a nipple.
Cathy pulled away with a troubled look, but Jon persisted.
"Like boyfriend and girlfriend, right?"
He returned to his caress of that private part, hoping she wasn't going
to start crying or anything. Could she handle it?
Then she gave him a small smile, then a weak giggle. A giggle! That was
OK, much better than crying.
Jon
kissed all over her arms and hands, her stomach, and her chest. Cathy
looked at him with amusement -- as best she could muster in her
weakened condition. He licked each nipple carefully. The giggles came
back occasionally. It wasn't the reaction he expected from her, and he
filed it away to ponder later.
His hands raced over her calves,
knees and thighs, before settling into some rhythmic massaging at her
pussy opening. He was aware of her eyes focused on him intently.
He
then dove down, jockeying to get his mouth between her legs. As he
started licking her hairless pussy, she said, "Daddy!" but she didn't
squirm or try to stop him. Instead, she started giggling again.
He
got some taste of his own ejaculation from a few hours before, but he
didn't mind. He focused on licking the girl, especially her clit.
When he had done that for as long as seemed right, he lifted his head,
deciding it was time for the final act.
He
reared up onto his knees. "See it, Cathy?" he asked. "See my penis? Now
I'm going to put it in you." Was that something a pedophile might say?
Cathy
nodded but didn't look anxious as she had before. Maybe it was because
she now knew what to expect in terms of physical sensations.
He
let his cock slide into her pussy and felt its luxurious, wet grip.
Once he was seated inside her, he lowered himself onto his daughter and
clutched her to him, arms behind her, one shoulder blade in each hand.
He then began his fucking motion, soon getting his cock in all the way
to the hilt. He kissed her again while he thrust vigorously. He grunted
and made sure she could see the pleasure on his face. All things a
pedophile would do, he thought.
He estimated he'd been fucking
her for twenty minutes -- was that how long a pedophile would do it if
he could? He was also aware that his child's life was in danger -- it
would certainly be a tragedy if she died because he made this into a
marathon. He stopped holding himself back, letting his body take him
towards orgasm.
"Oh, Cathy... It feels so ... good, oohhhh,
wowwww," he muttered, and finally a loud, "Unnnnnhhhhh!" as his orgasm
was upon him and he shot his gobs of sperm up into his little girl.
When
he was done panting he slid off her, but decided he'd stay close, just
like a pedophile would. He turned her on her side and spooned against
her back, stroking her hair and her chest lazily.
Her next bout of dry heaves would break the mood, but until then he'd
snuggle with her.
But her next bout never came. She was on the mend.
The counselor smiled, but Cathy wasn't sure she trusted her.
"The
phrase for what you had is "Intercourse Alleviated Gastrointestinal
Distress Syndrome, or IAGDS, or 'Egads'. Did you know that?"
"Yeah." She'd heard 'Egads'. That was the polite name for what everyone
else called the Lolita Bug.
"The
first thing I want to make sure you know is that you didn't do anything
wrong. The bug was caused by a virus, and has nothing to do with what
kind of a girl you are or your thoughts or anything. The changes in
your genitals had nothing to do with whether you touched them or not or
how -- I have no idea in your case and no need to know. It doesn't
matter.
"I'm sure you remember from your Basic Safety course
that your body is your private space and no one should ever touch it
without your permission. And I'm sure you remember that you should
never let anyone, especially an adult, touch you in any of your private
spots. We tell you that because if those things happen it can be very
bad for your body and can make you sad for the rest of your life. A man
had intercourse with you twice. So we're very concerned about how you
feel about it. And it's even more complicated because it was your
daddy."
The counselor leaned forward. "So, how do you feel, Cathy?"
"Fine."
The
counselor waited, but as Cathy said no more she followed up. "Can you
tell me how you felt at the time? What was it like for you when it was
happening? Anything you felt is fine; no feeling would be wrong or bad.
If you felt very angry that would be perfectly normal. Or if you felt
sad. Or confused."
"It was really weird," Cathy said. "I had no idea anything like that
would ever happen."
"Of course... Close your eyes... Take a deep breath... and think back
on what happened."
Cathy
didn't close her eyes. "First they said I might be dying," she said,
and choked up. "That was awful. I was so scared. Then daddy said it
might help if someone, you know, did it to me."
"How did you feel when he said that?"
"I was mostly still scared of dying. But it felt really weird to have
him say that."
"Of course."
"You
know what helped, though? My mommy said I had gotten all big down
below, and that was like a sign from God that someone had to do that to
me. It kind of made sense then. Like the world was already topsy turvy
and this was part of it."
"Your mommy was very wise."
"But mostly I was scared of dying -- but I was so tired, too."
"Mmmm-hmmm. Then what happened with the actual sex part?"
"Daddy
told me that ordinarily he'd be the worst person to do something like
that, but since no one else was around he'd do it, though he felt
really bad about it."
"What did you think of that?"
"I didn't want any stranger doing things to me! I knew he wanted the
best for me."
The counselor nodded, and after a pause said, "What happened then?"
"I
helped Daddy get me out of my PJ bottoms and panties and open my legs
wide. I felt a little ashamed to have him looking at me like that."
"Of
course, Cathy, of course. You should never have to see a man looking at
you that way. It was totally natural to feel ashamed."
"Then he
went away, and when he came back he had his hand around his ... penis,
kind of hiding it from me. The next thing I knew, I felt this big
pressure down below."
"Did it hurt? Did you feel scared? Angry?"
"No,
it just felt weird. Strange. His thing inside me kept feeling bigger
and bigger, more and more. I had no idea how it was fitting. Partly it
felt pretty funny."
"Funny?"
"Like a joke or something.
Like, maybe, if he stuck a bunch of fingers in my cheek. It would feel
weird, but mostly I'd think, 'Why the heck is he doing that? Is he
playing a trick on me?'."
"Hmmmm."
"Then he started going in and out, back and forth, and that really felt
like a prank or something."
"Did you look at your daddy's face while this was happening?"
"Yeah, he had his eyes closed. Like maybe it was really unpleasant. He
didn't look happy. Not like he was playing a joke."
"Then how did it change?"
"Well,
his face scrunched up, and he started breathing really fast. Then he
relaxed. After a little while he moved off me and his penis slid out.
It was kind of like when a loud noise stops and it's so quiet? That's
what it felt like down there when it was suddenly all empty again."
"Then what?"
"He left."
"He just left?"
"Yeah.
My mommy came in to check. She asked how I felt -- kind of like you
are. But it didn't hurt down there. It was my stomach that hurt. I was
getting that awful sick feeling because I was going to throw up again
soon. God, I thought my body was going to turn itself inside out."
"Did you think about how what your daddy did might save your life?"
"Oh
yes. But it didn't sound like a sure thing. And then I did throw up
again. By the time I had the second one I could tell my mommy and daddy
were really worried, and I got scared."
"That makes perfect sense."
"Then after a couple hours Daddy came and said he wanted to do it
again."
"What did you think about that?"
"I don't remember thinking much. I was a little ashamed when he had me
take my clothes off so he could see my chest."
"Of course. That's totally normal you'd feel that way."
"But then when he actually started doing it..." Cathy smiled.
"Why do you smile?"
"It
was something like from a kissy movie. He kissed me and rubbed his
hands everywhere. And I meant everywhere. He licked me down there for a
long time! And I could tell he really liked touching me like that."
"He really liked it... How did you feel knowing he really liked it?"
"It
was kind of nice. The first time he looked like he was doing something
yucky or painful, and I felt kind of guilty about that. So it was nice
to see he was having a good time."
"How did you feel thinking your daddy was feeling good from touching
you that way?"
Cathy shrugged. "It was nice he was happy."
"But
did it bother you that touching your private parts -- touching his
daughter like you both knew he shouldn't -- was making him feel good?"
"Huh?"
The counselor hesitated. "Did you have any feelings your daddy was ...
taking advantage of you?"
"Ummm. No."
The counselor was quiet.
"Then
when he slid his thing in again, I knew what to expect. And he looked
kind of funny being all happy like that from doing that funny thing,
but it was nice too. He squeezed me. He kind of growled. Then he got
really, really happy like I'd never seen." Cathy smiled. "If I'd known
that stuff was coming out of him I would have been grossed out. But I
didn't know it."
"Did you feel any pleasure yourself?"
"Pleasure?"
"Good feelings from your vulva or vagina."
"No. I really liked it when he hugged against my back when we were
done."
"Good. Then?"
"Then I think I fell asleep, and that was nice. What was nicest was I
wasn't sick when I woke up."
After Cathy was silent for some time, the counselor spoke. "So how did
you feel about what happened overall?"
"I liked the second time a lot better than the first."
"Why?"
"It
wasn't so weird. It wasn't just getting my ... my vagina filled. The
second time was like acting in a movie, a love story. I was playing the
part of the woman and Daddy was playing the man."
"Good. And you know why he did it?"
"Sure. To save my life."
"Right. And does that make it a little more OK?"
"Sure. It was OK. Well, not really. All that throw-up was totally
awful."
"Of
course. Don't be surprised if feelings keep coming up over and over --
feelings of anger or shame or sadness. That's all perfectly normal. And
feel free to talk about them with anyone you trust."