[Fiction] The Child

[kmacroxs]

I don't normally go for this kind of thing, but you write it so well that I can't stop reading. Please continue.

[Officelover]

Originally Posted by kmacroxs

I don't normally go for this kind of thing, but you write it so well that I can't stop reading. Please continue.

Thank you! Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn't mean for there to be so much scat stuff in this story. I know that turns most people off. I don't have a scat fetish, or anything. I just think it's a really easy way to make a character feel disgusting. It's so powerful, so sharp you know?

I also think it's kind of lazy writing, so I'm going to use less of it. What exactly do you "not usually go for"? I'll try to avoid it, to make the reading experience more pleasurable for everyone.

I'm glad you like it though

[kmacroxs]

Originally Posted by Officelover

Thank you! Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn't mean for there to be so much scat stuff in this story. I know that turns most people off. I don't have a scat fetish, or anything. I just think it's a really easy way to make a character feel disgusting. It's so powerful, so sharp you know?

I also think it's kind of lazy writing, so I'm going to use less of it. What exactly do you "not usually go for"? I'll try to avoid it, to make the reading experience more pleasurable for everyone.

I'm glad you like it though

I don't usually go for violence or forced sex. That's about it. But you don't need to change it for me. Like I said, you write it so well that I can't stop reading it. As far as I know, a lot of people enjoy it. When I read the part about the scat, I was a bit grossed out, but you write so well that I didn't really think about it too much.

[Officelover]

Hey, guys, I'm so sorry that I haven't updated this story in so long. It's been kind of crazy lately, so I haven't had much time. Soon, I'll have a lot more time on my hands, and I think I'll just finish this story up nice and quickly.

[joshl]

no dont finish quick make it a lot longer please!!!!!

[kmacroxs]

I have to agree with josh. I personally want to see this story continue. But if you feel that you've gone as far as you can with this story, then by all means end it. Just don't forget about your fans.

[Officelover]

I didn't mean I would end it right away! Believe me, this story will continue. I just don't want to make it something years in the making. You'll get some good entries, don't worry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The people began poking and prodding at me, suddenly boorishly interested in my body. All of the people of the marketplace were interested in me equally, not just the men. The women giggled as they poked at my exposed skin. Most folks just touched me in few places—gave me a pinch, a poke, a prod—and walked away. Not one of them said a word to me.
The female librarian tried, maybe a little too boisterously, to get them to torture me. I think she scared them away. They didn’t leave me alone after that, but they came more hesitantly. It wasn’t until I saw a class of maybe twenty five ten-year-olds approach me that I knew my fate was sealed. Their teacher, a young, idealistic-looking woman, stood in front of me, and said, “Class, this is the Child.”
A few of them looked nervous and attempted to hide. A few of them tried to look tough and glared dully at me. “If you don’t mind,” the male librarian said, “I’d like to say a few words.” Their teacher smiled and motioned for him to go ahead. “It’s all right,” he said to the nervous ones, “there’s nothing to be afraid of. Hopefully, this will be a fun experience for you. There really is no better feeling in the world than coming home from a day of volunteering to help your community. Plus, the work isn’t too hard.”
Approaching me, he continued, “As your teacher said, this is the Child. Some of you might have heard rumors about it. Don’t worry; there’s nothing to be afraid of. It may be bad, but it can’t hurt you. We won’t let it hurt you. Your parents have to volunteer to fight this creature. They do so because they want nothing more in the whole world than to protect you. But today, we think it might be a good idea for you to learn how to protect yourself, because one day you’ll have children of your own that you have to fight for.”
One precocious girl shot her hand in the air and asked, “But how do we fight the Child?”
“All you have to do, little one,” the female librarian said, stepping forward, “is make it cry. If you can make it cry, it is said we will have a good harvest and a happy society.”
“If you can make it cry, it will be weakened,” the man added.
“Watch this,” the woman said. She found a stick on the ground, and starting whipping it against my ass. I couldn’t see her, but I could feel that stick. Of course I’d never been spanked as a child. My butt had never hurt so badly. She didn’t wait between strokes, either. She did a demonstration of twenty, in probably less than a minute. The children didn’t know how to react at first, but by the time I was howling in pain and my eyes were moistened, they were laughing hard at me.
“See, wasn’t that fun?” The woman said.
The children all cheered, and many of them asked if they could try it. Who was she to say no, of course? Five or six of the more courageous ones used the stick on me, most of them with less effectiveness than she did. One of them, the last one, really hurt me though. He was the one with the bright idea to move to a different part of my body besides the ass. First he hit my back. Then he moved in front of me, looked me directly in the eye, squeezed my tits that were hanging in front of me, and started whipping those with the stick.
He got a lot of high-fives after he broke the stick on me.
The librarians were impressed; the children had gotten some real tears out of me, and my ass was completely sore. “I think you have the idea, children,” the male librarian said, “and I want you to run wild with her for the next couple of hours. Use your imagination. Anything is possible. Your rule of thumb is this: don’t kill her, or she’ll haunt you and possess you. You wouldn’t want that. But believe me, there’s a lot you can do without her dying.”
The woman whispered in his ear. He said, “I almost forgot. Your goal is to make her look as ridiculous as possible by the end of the day. Notice how she’s already dirty? One of your classmates already took the initiative to rub poop all over her.”
The kids all started laughing at that.
“Go wild,” their teacher said.
That they did. They did not excel in pain; children aren’t strong enough, or coordinated enough to do that much physical damage. I’m not going to say I was in top-notch condition after they were through with me. I’ve suffered much worse physical torture sessions, but that was maybe the first time that the goal was to make me hurt. And they accomplished that. They made me hurt.
The children used whatever sticks they could find. They also slapped me, attempted to punch me, and they were quite good at kicking the shit out of me.
But for the most part, they were quite satisfied to focus on their task: to make me look as ridiculous as possible. The first thing they did was pick up mud, just like their friend had done, and rub it over me. They seemed to enjoy the mud, as all children do, and enjoyed lathering my back and butt with it. It was actually kind of refreshing, having a nice cool sensation after the stinging of the sticks.
Soon, they had the idea to go around to different shops and ask for their trash. They ended up with a lot of good things to humiliate me with. First, they had rotten fruit and vegetables. They used the classic rotten tomatoes routine on me, lobbing them while taunting me. A few of them squeezed the stinking juices onto my face and what was left of my hair.
One girl stuck an apple with a worm in it in my mouth, and called me a piggy. When I spit it out, she threw it hard at my face. She had yanked the worm out, and she opened my mouth for me, and plopped it in.
The male librarian said to me, “I’ll have more people rape you if you don’t chew it up.” So I did. What was I supposed to do? Some of the children were content to only throw the rotten fruit at me. Others filled my holes with various rotting vegetables. A bendy carrot got shoved up my vagina, until the boys didn’t think it was big enough, and a cucumber was put in its stead. A black banana got pushed up my asshole.
That was around the time they discovered that the old chicken-keeper had a whole crate of week-old eggs he was willing to give up. Smiling, he said to the class’ teacher, “anything for the kids.”
The ‘kids’ proceeded to smash them in my face, leaving trails of yolk clouding my eyes. They made a game out of hitting my cunt with them. If one broke in my pussy, they would get a point. I think they got fifteen points in total.
That sulfuric smell was awful.
They died down for a while after that, focusing on hitting me and other things like that, until someone got the idea to get rotten meat from the butchers, who were just going to throw it out anyway. They rubbed bloated fish on my vagina. They rubbed the beef the flies wouldn’t touch all over my breasts. They threw the corpses at me. The worst part was, they force-fed me some of the meat, uncooked and spoilt. I felt like vomiting right there. I did, eventually vomit, and some bright kid cupped his hands underneath me, and dumped it all over my head. He wiped his hands off on my tits.
From that day forward I was a vegetarian. No matter how hungry I was, I would never eat animals, because there was no real difference in eating a savage beast and those tormentors.
The fact that they then flung their own poop at me certainly helped me make the connection.

[kmacroxs]

Like I said before, this normally isn't something I go for. But you write so well, that it is hard for me to stop reading.

[StarShineGirl]

I actually love this story, I want to read more!

[Officelover]

The children succeeded that day, in making a Child cry.

It was the most disgusting I had ever felt. I felt as though I had been purged, of vitality and energy. By sunset all the children were tired of their games, and their teacher told them they had to leave. Don’t worry, she said, they’d be coming back soon to play again.

The two librarians surrounded me in a ring of candles and left me there for the night, “so that the townsfolk could see how disgusting I was.” So, I stayed awake all night, unable to sleep in the stocks, and because of the smell.

I had to ask myself that night whether I had really done anything to deserve of all this. All my life, I had believed the Child was evil. That’s what those children believed. That’s what their teacher taught them. So, what had I done to deserve this treatment? Was it my relationship with the former Child? Maybe I let it seduce me into decadence… maybe it was my original sin.

I stopped myself right there. My relationship with him was one of the only pure things in my life. And he was not evil. I realized something that night—even there, covered in filth and displayed in public as a whore—I did not regret loving him.

I don’t think the Child was ever this embodiment of evil. I saw evil today, and it came in the form of ten-year-olds. It came in the form of librarians, and shopkeepers. Not in the form of victims.

They took me back to the library that morning. Nobody bothered me for a full week or so. No one came to ‘visit’; none of the librarians so much as recognized me. I took the time as a way to emotionally repair what damage had come to me. The first thing I did when I felt it was safe to leave the library was to find a stream, and wash myself in it. Even after thirty minutes in the rushing water, not all of the smell would come off. But at least the residue, the filth caked onto me, was gone.

I was hungry, so I was forced into stealing some more. I realized that no one would ever feed me again, so I might as well get good at stealing from people. A couple months ago, I would have been horrified at the idea of taking food without permission. But these were no longer my friends and neighbors. These were people who would beat me half to death if they wanted. Worse yet, these were people who felt justified doing it, so I felt justified for stealing from them.

[kmacroxs]

That last post seems to be quite a bit shorter than what you usually post. Did something happen? Or did you just want to keep it separated? Either way, you're still a great writer. Please continue this story.

[Peachy]

An amazing story so far! I love that while it is arousing in a dark seedy way you delve further into a broken society that thinks it is a Utopia.
Definitely one of the better stories on here, you don't just go for the kill you have us readers begging for more.

Peachy x

[res]

I happened to read through your story and I have to say - I love it. Not in an arousing way (It´s way to... crazy for me to be arousing) but in a way that keeps me want to go on, like a good book (which is certainly only fit for adults, though )
This story could really make a great setting for a really long novel which I would love to read

I am looking forward to the next chapter.

Kind regards
res

[Officelover]

By the way, I'm so sorry that these chapters have been so short recently. I hope to publish a big chunk soon.

************************************************** **************************************

The rest of that summer I got used to cock. All types of cock.

The men of Omelas were not exaggerated, pubically. There were a few huge ones in there. I think the biggest I had was a 9 and a half incher. That really sucked. But for the most part, I got average dicks. Cocks that were five inches long. I also got a lot of tiny ones—three inches, and under. You’d think that they would be the least painful rapists, but the men who owned the tiny ones beat me harsher to compensate.

I said I got used to all types of cock; that doesn’t just mean I got used to sizes. I got used to colors. I got used to shapes (some were circumcised, some weren’t). I got used to pubic hair, however it was maintained. I could tell a man’s age by his cock—the awkwardness of the adolescent cock, the virility of the adult penis, the first sagging of the midlife crisis, and the pathetic limpness of the elderly. I even got used to false cock, provided at no cost to the women who wanted to get in on the fun.

I got used to being beaten. I got used to the filling my cavities, all types of cavities. When tears got too familiar for me, I got used to not being able to cry anymore. In short, I got used to getting used.

But the humiliation I felt never wore off. The response provoked by a stranger insulting me, torturing me, and invading me never changed. I may have stopped crying, but I never stopped wanting to kill myself. I never stopped wanting to kill everyone who hurt me.

I got very familiar with the structure of being raped. I grew to be an expert at minimizing my pain. But that pain never went away. Even now I get night terrors.

It’s not as if the people of Omelas were sex-starved. They were liberated people, who taught their children to be safe and let them do what they wanted. There were people whose entire lives were devoted to sex in Omelas. Most marriages were open, and most couples were happy. It wasn’t as if the men of Omelas needed more sex in their lives. It wasn’t as if the women who used the strap-on on me were repressing their lesbian leanings.

The people of Omelas raped me because they wanted to punish me. They always told me that sex was nothing to be ashamed of, and that you shouldn’t judge a woman or a man on their sex life. They told me that sex can be fun, or beautiful, or the best way to connect with someone. But it seemed that everyone knew that this wasn’t sex.

Just as how when I had raped the former Child, he had been a dildo to me, I became a couple of holes for them. It wasn’t that they needed the holes. They could have whole bodies and souls, and it would mean more to them. I figured out after the first Summer of Cock that they needed to make ME into holes. You might not be able to crush evil, but you can fill holes. Most of them weren’t raping me for fun, because there’s nothing inherently fun about a hole. They legitimately believed that by transforming me into a vehicle for sex they could control me.

[sweetiepi]

Really like this story, can't wait for the next instalment