Forced
2003-07-30
When Jon went to bed, he found it was best to lose himself in a world of fantasy. Sleep would come quickly, and often he would dream about whatever it was he had thought earlier. But recently, he had a particular dream that caught his attention, and it became a reoccurring fantasy that played itself out time and again. He would be taken to an unfamiliar place, whether it be a new school, a new job, or a new home. There, he would meet and find himself inexplicably attracted to a girl about twelve years of age. Her face changed each time, but her form was the same. She was the model of innocence, with wavy brown hair, milky skin, and an overall doll-like appearance. Jon would be somehow coerced into meeting her, and he would find her to actually be devilishly sexual. She would look at him from behind her sweet curls with narrowed eyes and a seductive smile, and would lure him to a large, private pool. There, they would be in the changing room, and he would look down and see his body completely naked before her. She would look with childish fascination at his penis, and he would invariably wake up, feeling aroused and intrigued. Some days, he lay in bed for hours trying to recapture the emotion by taking the scenario further. He would undress her slowly, stroking his hands over her smooth, warm skin. He would grab her roughly by the shoulders and pry the clothes from her, forcing himself into her tiny slit. He would change into his bathing suit, and then watch her get naked. Timidly, but with the inexperience and unbashful nature of a girl her age, she would take off her shirt, revealing soft pink nipples that were fuller than the developing breasts behind them.
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But try as he might, Jon could never recapture the pure feeling of adrenaline-rushed, nervous, doubtful, sexual excitement and anxiety he felt imagining himself standing naked before this little girl. Striving to regain this beautiful emotion, Jon became obsessed. Living by himself, he was able to exist in seclusion, retreating entirely to his darkened apartment. For days, he searched the internet for illegal pictures, masturbated to them, and scrawled his feelings and desires in a frequently unreadable journal. In his mind and on the paper, he tried to create the imaginary girl he had fallen in love with, but found no success. One day, he collapsed in aggravation and stared at the ceiling until his mind cleared. He began to realize the sad state of affairs his life had been taking, and he shook his head, got in the shower, and cleaned his body and mind of these impure thoughts. He had been living a rather normal life for almost a week when he went to a local pool to relax. Being a modest man, he went into one of two stalls to change into his swim suit. As he pulled his boxers down, he heard voices, and watched through a crack in the door as a group came in. Already wet and wearing their suits, they began to dry off, and Jon turned his attention to each of them individually. There was a man in his forties, a boy who looked about ten, and a little girl who must have been too shy to leave her family and go into the women’s changing room. His heart racing, Jon watched as the girl sat down on a bench and pulled her swim suit off. Her father handed her a towel, then pulled off his own shorts. Jon watched the girl as she dried off, studying every inch of her perfectly hairless body.
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He turned himself toward her so that his rapidly rising penis was visible behind the one inch gap between the stall door and the wall. As he noted with some degree of pride that his was bigger than the father’s, the girl looked over at him.
Time slowed down then for Jon Darion as he watched her round blue eyes descend from his face down to his crotch. She smiled a little with flushed cheeks, almost laughed, and continued to stare at him, biting her towel out of nervous habit. Hardly able to contain himself, Jon opened the door a little wider, revealing more of himself, and wondered what of this the little porcelain doll had never seen before. “Come on, Alice. ” Her father said while buttoning up his shirt. The brother rolled his eyes and walked out, deciding to wait in the car. As Alice’s father walked over to her and took her little pink panties from the bench, he noticed that his daughter was fixated on something to his left. He began to turn, but never saw Jon Darion as he brought a broken toilet seat down on the man’s head. With a yell, he spun around halfway, falling to the hard tile floor with a crack. The seat clattered to the floor next to him, and Alice looked at her father with wide eyes. She looked at Jon, who was smiling maniacally. She looked down at Jon’s penis, which was standing tall. She looked at Jon’s arms as they reached out for her, took her by the shoulders, and shoved her back against a row of lockers.
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She looked up at the ceiling and began to cry. Two hours later, Jon sat silently at his computer as several dozen policemen gathered at the YMCA to reconstruct the chilling crime. “Police speculate,” began a news reporter, “that James Geller was killed when someone struck him in the back of the head with a toilet seat. His twelve year-old daughter Alice was then raped and beaten. ” His mind and face blank, Jon was found by authorities, still sitting at his desk. When questioned, he was unresponsive and incoherent, but showed no remorse for what he had done, only remarking with a little smile, “It’s okay. I’ll wake up in a second. ”.
