Date: Sat, 27 Aug 2022 01:16:42 +0000
From: Lizard69 <69lizard69@pm.me>
Subject: Cutter short complete

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Trigger warning!  This story deals with a teen boy exploring submissive
role play as an alternative to compulsive self harm.  If you or somebody
you care about is trying to cope with this problem you might want to skip
this one.  I'm not qualified to offer help, I'm just a fiction author.

Cutter
(Mm, twisted)
By Lizard69


	We were leaving work when John's wife called.  He seemed more than
a little distracted, on the edge of losing his temper, when he told me we
needed to stop at his place on the way to the AA meeting.  John was Native
American, what us woods runners of the frozen north sometimes called FBI,
short for Fuckin' BIG Indian.  I'd met him at work and then discovered we
were both regulars at AA.  Seeing him now made me thank whatever gods there
were that I'd never met him when he was pissed up as well as pissed off.
Sasquatch would have lost his `nads.

	I'd met his wife.  That she'd stuck with him long enough for them
to have a daughter in high school told me she was made of sterner stuff
than most of the guys I'd grown up with.  The problem was with his son.  If
I hadn't known he was only a couple years younger than his sister I
wouldn't have guessed the spindly kid was even into his teens.  It was hard
to believe Tim was part of the same family.  A fern growing on a
battlefield could hardly have been more out of place.  Snatching the kids
wrist John nearly lifted him off his feet, exposing the latest in a series
of cuts in various stages of healing on the boys forearm.  It was plain to
everyone present that he was on the edge of smacking the boy and equally
obvious that wouldn't do one damn thing to improve the situation.

	"Uh, John?  Would it be a problem if I talk to the kid for a few
minutes?  I'm not any sort of counselor and it probably isn't going to help
but just giving everybody a chance to cool down a little can't hurt."

	John dropped his son and headed for the fridge.  I directed Tim
towards the front door with a jerk of my head and he followed me out onto
the porch.

	"Ok, in case you don't remember I'm Lee."

	"Uh, Hi I guess."

	"As much as I hate to admit it, I was telling the truth in there.
I'm not trained for this shit and from what I've heard, even if I was
there's not a lot I can do.  I won't ask you why.  If you knew you probably
wouldn't be doing it."

	Tim didn't completely relax.  On a scale where ten was an epileptic
seizure he maybe backed down to seven.  It was still a welcome improvement.

	"You really want to stop?"

	"More than anything!  If I can't, I'm going to end up in foster
care if dad doesn't kill me first."

	"He'd kill me right now if he hears me tell you this.  When I was
your age, some of the girls I knew cut.  They stopped cutting when they
started getting fucked.  The next time you need to cut so bad you can't
help it, find a quiet spot and try to imagine that some pervert is going to
fuck you instead."

	"WHAT?!"

	"Not so loud.  It might not do any good.  It can't make things any
worse.  I'm betting it's something you haven't tried yet."

	"You got that right!  I'm not queer."

	"That's even better.  It's not about what you want.  It's about
imagining yourself doing something so awful that cutting seems like no big
deal.  You have time to play with the details.  You don't cut every day or
you would have whittled yourself down to nothing before now.  So you have
some warning, right?  It's not like everything is just fuckin' peachy and
all of a sudden you gotta cut, is it?"

	"It's pretty close to that sometimes.  Mostly though I can push it
away and think of something else, at least for a while."

	"Then start early.  Don't make thinking about some creep the big
gun you pull out after everything else didn't work.  As soon as you start
thinking about cutting, try thinking about some creep having you instead."

	I dug around in my pockets until I found a scrap of paper and wrote
my phone number on it.

	"If that doesn't work for you, or you just want to talk, give me a
call.  Maybe we can come up with something else to try.  If I can't help,
at least I'm not going to give you a hard time about it."

	John came out about then and we went on to AA.  A few days later I
got a call.

	"Hi, Lee?"

	"Yeah."

	"It's Tim."

	"Oh.  Hi.  How's it going?"

	"Not so good.  It's, well, everybody talks about avoiding creeps
but nobody says anything about what makes them creepy, at least not the
details.  So when I tried to do what you talked about, imagine some perv
getting creepy with me..."

	"You kind of ran into a wall?"

	"Yeah."

	"From the background noise it sounds like you're home.  If you want
to talk about it, I can be at the park a couple blocks from your place in
ten minutes."

	I ended the call before his family could overhear him saying
something really awkward.  It was late enough most of the kids were home
eating supper but still a couple hours before dark.  Nobody gave me a
second look as I settled onto the bench he'd picked out, far enough from
anybody else we could talk about damn near anything if we didn't shout.

	"I'm sorry.  If I thought it through I'd have known this would be a
problem.  Trying to imagine something completely outside your experience
doesn't work very well.  That's probably why most adults want to keep you
dumb as long as possible.  Most people are so crazy about it I'd be in deep
shit if they knew what we were talking about.  I can give you some really
twisted stuff to think about but I need your word that nobody will ever
know you heard it from me.  Deal?"

	"Deal.  Like, I'd crawl under a rock if anybody found out that I
wanted to know."

	I looked around for a minute.

	"See that boy over there?  The skinny kid with the short brown
hair?"

	"Yeah, what about him?"

	"He's about your size and probably close to your age.  I've never
met him and don't know anything about him in real life.  I'm just using him
as an example, ok?"

	"Example of what?"

	"The story is that he comes to me for guitar lessons and I call him
when I need somebody to rake leaves or lawn clippings.  Friends and family
don't get weird about me calling him or think it's strange that he isn't
exactly thrilled about dropping what he's doing and going somewhere after I
call.  Last time I had him in the basement while my girlfriend was sleeping
on the couch upstairs."

	"You, uh, you *had* him?"

	"He knew what was coming before I told him to take his clothes off.
The other times we were there it wasn't to play board games.  When he was
naked he stood on the bottom step of the basement stairs so I could kiss
him without having to bend over so far.  I don't know how it is for other
people but for me an open mouth kiss, with our tongues slowly sliding
against each other is the line where we actually start having sex.  If he
opens his mouth for my tongue he'll open it for my cock."

	"Did he?"

	"Just having him bare is fun.  He isn't exactly shy, not with other
people or doing other things.  When I have him naked and he can't hide his
hardon or even push my hands away, he kind of squirms a little in a way
that is just so fuckin hot.  He knows that once it gets that far we're not
stopping until the finish.  About half the time he's fumbling with my belt
buckle while I'm still playing with him.  There's an old office chair in
the basement.  I was sitting in it with him kneeling between my thighs as
soon as I could get my pants off."

	"Oh...  Wow..."

	"Yeah.  There are kids no older than him that can deep throat a
grown mans cock like a porn star.  He's not one of those, isn't in any big
hurry to learn.  What he usually wants most is to get it done so he can go
back to whatever he was doing.  That's not all bad.  It's like we have this
set of rules we don't talk about."

	"What kind of rules?"

	"Things like the more he plays along the quicker it will be over.
If he doesn't want to do something, asking to do something else works
better than arguing.  After he gets my dick so hard I could ram it through
an inch of oak, I grease it up and have him climb up on my lap facing me.
We do other positions too but that's my favorite.  I plant the head of my
greasy cock against his ass hole then get busy handling and fondling while
he lowers himself onto me.  I don't pull him down.  He doesn't like the way
it feels when my cock is opening him up but he can do it if I let him go at
his own pace.  If I tried to just ram it in I would really mess him up.
When I'm all the way in he can bounce up and down on my cock, trying to
make me cum, while I try to slow him down so it will last longer.  That
isn't easy for him and can take a while.  Or he can jack off while I play
with him.  We kind of have a deal that it's over when one of us cums but it
doesn't have to be me.  If he does manage to finish first he usually isn't
ahead by much.  Watching him is so hot that if I can't pop a load before he
climbs off a couple of strokes will get me there by hand.  So, now you know
some of the things a perv might do to a kid."

	"A boy."

	"Most creeps wouldn't care if it was one or the other.  The girls I
knew who used to cut didn't stop because some white knight carried them off
to a fairytale romance.  One of them was with a guy she didn't even like.
He was old enough to go to jail for what he was doing and only wanted her
around when he needed to get a load off.  The whole thing was kind of sad
but instead of calling the cops she kept coming back to let him do it
again.  After a while she noticed she wasn't cutting anymore.  That didn't
make it all ok but it was enough for her to keep doing it while she got her
other problems sorted out."

	"You're saying I have to get fucked by some pervert to quit
cutting?"

	"Not at all!  I can't say for sure it will help.  I'm not even sure
it worked for the kids I used to know.  They could have started doing
something else around the same time that made a bigger difference.  It's a
degrading and abusive thing to do.  If you had to choose between cutting
and perving you might even be better off with a few more scars.  What I'm
saying is that it won't cost anything or hurt anybody to imagine doing
something else instead of cutting."

	I did some serious soul searching about what I told Tim after I got
home.  I should probably have used gloves... thick ones.  I won't bore you
with the mental gymnastics it took to convince myself I wasn't an evil
creep.  If it ever becomes an Olympic event I might be a contender.  First
they'd have to ban lawyers and politicians.  When a couple weeks passed
with no blow back I began to relax.  Until the lunch break at work when
John had a question.

	"Tim wanted me to ask if you could give him guitar lessons."

	Thank God I wasn't half way through a swallow!  Also, nobody else
in the break room seemed interested.

	"Not lessons.  I'm not a teacher.  I don't even play the guitar.
I'm learning on my own how to play a banjo.  Does he want to learn?"

	"Yeah, he found one cheap at a yard sale.  I don't know anything
about guitars but it had a piece of shit price and looked like a real
instrument, so I bought it for him.  Now I'm pricing lessons and it's
starting to look like the guitar itself is the cheapest part of the deal."

	"When you stack it against the cost of other shit he could be doing
it's not too bad but I can see how you wouldn't want to pay for six months
worth of lessons then watch him lose interest.  It was enough to make me
try to learn on my own.  I figured at least I'd find out if I was going to
stay interested enough to make lessons worth the money."

	"How's that workin' for ya?"

	"Not too bad actually.  Once you find out how to do what you want
it's mostly hours and hours of repetition.  I'm sure I could learn faster
with a teacher.  I'm probably practicing mistakes that might give me
problems down the line.  From what I hear most beginners do that anyway,
teacher or not."

	I pretended to consider it while finishing my sandwich.

	"Tell ya what.  The biggest problem I have teaching myself is
setting a regular practice time and sticking to it.  If he's willing to
show up a couple times a week and practice together maybe we can both stay
a little more motivated.  Want me to give him a call and see if he's
interested?"

	"Yeah.  Sure."

	John dropped Tim off an hour after work and I offered to give him a
lift home when we called it quits.  John was right about the guitar,
nothing special but a decent entry level instrument.  While I was looking
it over Tim was looking around my small apartment.

	"When does your girlfriend get home?"

	"I don't have a live in, not right now anyway.  Don't have a
basement either."

	Tim was looking everywhere but at me and starting to blush.

	"We might as well drag it out in the open.  This isn't about
lessons, at least not music lessons.  I went along with you wanting to get
started right away because you sounded like you were all out of options.
My guess is that you went as far as imagination alone could go.  Now it's
take the next step or start cutting again with no time left to think it
over."

	Tim made a couple false starts then went silent, blushing deeper
than I thought was possible.

	"You came to me because I used a hot story to answer a question.
It was just a story, no girlfriend, no boy, no basement.  I haven't fucked
anyone that young since I was a kid myself and I've never had much interest
in boys."

	I don't know what I expected but it wasn't exactly a surprise when
he started sobbing and tried to find his way out the door.  Tim stopped
with me behind him, massaging shoulders knotted up as hard as hockey pucks.
Giving him time to pull himself together, I continued in a much softer
tone.

	"Most people would hate me for suggesting you try to avoid a real
problem by fucking a pervert, especially if I was volunteering to be the
pervert."

	"I, uh, I don't know if I can do this."

	"True, but that's not what matters.  You know, we both know, that
you're going to try.  What we don't know for sure yet is if it will help."

	"Are you going to make me do it?"

	"Do other people make you cut?  If you do something you really
don't want, something embarrassing and abusive but not physically harmful,
maybe whatever it is that makes you cut will accept that as a substitute.
Whatever it is can't be easy.  Is cutting easy?"

	"Are you kidding?!  The only thing harder than cutting myself is
*NOT* cutting.  It's hard to believe anything can be so messed up."

	I shifted to resting one hand on the back of his neck, steered him
towards the kitchen, boosted him up on the end of the table to bring us
closer to eye level.

	"I'm going to start kissing you, open mouth.  I want to teach you
how to tongue fuck.  You can stop any time you want, don't have to do
anything at all, but the further you can push yourself while I'm perving on
you the better your chances of not needing to cut for a while."

	Tim was zero across the board for interest, experience or
enthusiasm.  It still didn't take long for him to pick up the basics, and
start to get nervous about it.  Before he could get too uncomfortable I
pulled back, went out to the living room and started figuring out how to
tune the guitar.  It didn't take long for him to join me.

	"I'm sorry.  I, uh, I just can't do it with a guy."

	"Bullshit!  You don't have to take it any further.  You don't have
to do it again.  But don't stand there trying to tell me you can't do what
you just did.  You opened your mouth knowing damn well that I'll fuck you
if you let me.  The whole world doesn't need to know about it but just
between us, yeah, we had sex."

	"Not like that story you told me."

	"Not the whole story but far enough I could get busted.  We don't
live in a perfect world.  Kids younger than you do all sorts of things for
all sorts of reasons.  If all you want is help learning how to play the
guitar we can do that, let the sex be a one time thing.  It went too far to
pretend it never happened.  Still want me as a music teacher?"

	"I guess.  I already have the guitar so learning how to play makes
more sense than sliding it under the bed and trying to forget why I wanted
it."

	"Ok, it's Monday.  We need to practice every day but let's try
getting together a couple times a week to check each others progress.  How
does Monday and Thursday sound?"

	"That should work.  I don't have anything else to do.  Will I have
to let you...?"

	"That kind of depends on why you're here.  I have friends and
neighbors.  So do you, along with family.  I put guitar lessons in that
story about a kid so he would have an excuse for being here.  Otherwise,
about the third time he showed up somebody would call the cops.  So now you
have an excuse to be alone with some old guy you really don't know very
well.  The general rule for games like these is the top does whatever he
wants and the bottom decides whether or not the top gets to play.  Every
time you show up we're gonna do music.  I'll perv on you if you let me.  I
can do that with a mostly clear conscience if I know you can make it all
stop any time you think it's going too far.  It isn't rape if you have a
choice."

	Thursday was a little tense at first but we both relaxed as it
became plain it was going to be a "musical" practice session.  By the time
Monday rolled around again Tim was starting to act a little skittish.  Like
he had a pretty good idea where he was going but wasn't sure how or even if
he wanted to get there.  I draped an arm around his shoulders and guided
him towards the bedroom.  Then I surprised him by stopping in front of a
full length mirror on the closet door instead of dragging him towards the
bed.

	"Take a close look.  I'm almost a head taller than you and twice as
heavy.  I won't say twice as experienced, I started jacking off before you
were born, so that's more like fifteen to one.  There wasn't anything
romantic about the first time I had you.  The best it's ever gonna get is
sort of a dom and sub role play thing.  You don't have to do it.  You can
leave any time you want.  You don't have to stay gone.  You can come back
later if you change your mind or just show up for the music.  We both know
that I'll perv on you if you let me."

	"Like the other time?"

	"That was a good start.  I don't know why you cut.  Figuring out
why is something you'll have to do on your own.  When you cut, you're doing
something that's completely opposite your natural instincts.  A thousand
generations of evolution is screaming at you to not do that.  If that can't
stop you nothing I can say is going to make a difference.  Trying to stay
alive, avoiding injury, is like the starting point for all life.  Sex is
never going to get higher than second place.  Even a hormone crazed
adolescent is going to think about other stuff now and then."

	"Yeah, sometimes."

	"So think about this.  If cutting is the opposite of trying to stay
alive and healthy, what's the opposite of trying to pop your load deep in
some cute young girls hot little pussy?"

	"Oh..."

	"Yeah."

	I don't know if getting him horizontal counts as taking it further.
We weren't doing the adolescent, "first base, second base, home run",
thing.  He'd been pretty thoroughly handled on the way to the bed.  When I
came up for air he turned his head, trying not to look at me.

	"Eye contact is a big thing.  I don't want you trying to pretend
that you aren't really here or it's happening to somebody else.  I'm
*fucking* you.  I want you thinking about what you're doing, not waiting
for it to be over."

	Maybe I was expecting it, if not, I should have been.  I wasn't
trying to hit the limits of what he was comfortable with.  The whole idea
was to get him to a place where he was as uncomfortable as he could get
without actual physical injury.  Getting deep kissed by a man was a huge
leap for a virgin boy, the *first* time.  To hit the same level of awkward
embarrassment on the second round we had to take it to the bedroom and
extend it to petting.  It wasn't a straight line progression.  The farther
we got from innocent kid, the bigger the jump to the next level.  After
only a handful of sessions the day arrived that he was face down, naked,
legs spread wide and reaching back to spread his butt cheeks as well.  I
shouldn't have been surprised by what happened next.  We had to be more
cautious in that position, using loads of lube, taking the time to gently
open him up with fingers or toys, being careful not to pin him down so he
could pull away from my cock if he needed to.  Instead...

	"Stop trying to be nice!  Shove it in already!  Make it hurt.  Make
me *HATE* it."

	I'm ashamed to say my first impulse was to give him exactly what he
was asking for.

	"Tim, we've got a problem.  How long has it been since the last
time you cut?"

	"Months, not once since you started fucking me."

	"From the beginning I had to be really careful.  If a kid shows up
at the ER with injuries that look like evidence of sexual abuse, they are
required by law to report it to the authorities."

	"Yeah, well, if you try to do it nice it doesn't help much.  I
leave here wanting to cut even after you perv on me, just not so bad."

	"It's too risky for me to get any rougher.  The only other thing I
can think of is to find ways to make it more difficult for you."

	"How?"

	"From now on you're the perv.  You don't get to just let me fuck
you.  You have to be the one making it happen."

	"You mean like asking for it?"

	"You're already doing that, but you're asking me to do things that
sort of take you off the hook.  We need to change that.  Start by rolling
over on your back, pull your knees up and spread."

	"Oh shit!  Your phone!  You're taking PICTURES ?!"

	"Just to show you how hot you look.  I'll let you delete them
after."

	"Well... Ok... but only because this is *supposed* to be creepy."

	"That's the idea.  Your dick is hard as it gets.  Pull your knees
up a little higher, turn towards the light, show me your hole all greased
up and ready.  Smile, say cheese, better yet say, Hi Mom."

	"Oh Christ!  That isn't even funny as a joke!"

	"There's more than one kind of rough sex.  We can make this worse
than anything you do with a blade.  Imagine there's some creep down at the
park playing pocket pool while he watches kids on the playground equipment.
He's the guy we're making this video for."

	"What does he want to see?  Exactly?"

	Tim had it down pretty smooth and wasn't blushing too bad after I
walked him through the short script a couple of times.  The slight tremble
in his voice actually made it sound more real when I finally hit record.

	"That's it.  Put the head of your dick against my hole.  I want to
watch your face while you use me, feel my tight greasy ring slide up and
down your shaft until you spill your load deep inside me."

	I leaned in, gradually increasing the pressure.  He wasn't
intentionally clamping down, like he wasn't just repeating the words I gave
him.  He really did want this to happen.  Tim was also fairly new to anal
intercourse.  His tight, young, body was still getting familiar with the
motions and sensations while his mind was playing hide and seek, reluctant
to look too closely at what he was becoming.  His muscles slowly gave up,
relaxing until the head of my dick could slip in past the ring.  Somehow, I
managed to resist the urge to ram in to the hilt, partly to keep from
tearing him up.  Mostly though I was so turned on by then I would have
popped my load in a stroke or two and I wanted this to last.  I had to stop
with my dick half buried or end the party early.  Spitting on a fingertip,
I started lightly teasing the underside of his boy boner, smiling at his
barely audible moan.

	"Like that huh?  I bet it feels almost as good as the tip of your
tongue dancing up and down my hardon, hitting all the sweet spots."

	That triggered an evil idea.  I dipped a blob of lube and circled
his cock with my finger and thumb, a greasy ring not that much different
from the one around my own.

	"You're gonna cum.  We're both too close to stop short now.  While
you're humping my hand, shoving your dick into that tight slippery ring,
you can't avoid knowing how good it feels to have you jerking me off with
your ass hole."

	I had to tease him with a couple short strokes.  Soon though, Tim
had a white knuckle grip on a couple wads of the sheet beneath him, trying
to get the leverage to throw his hips around in a way I found hard to
believe even while I was loving every second of it.  Sadly, nothing that
intense can last as long as you would like.  He seemed to cave in on
himself, burying his face in his hands as our breathing returned to normal.

	"I...  I'm...  I don't believe it.  You can't think...  I'm not
like that!"

	"Sure you are.  You just don't understand yet what `like that' is."

	"But I'm *NOT*!  I don't know what happened.  That's not *ME*."

	Instead of arguing with him I spent the time and energy coaching
him through washing my meat in the shower.  We got the instruments out but
he hardly finished tuning up before it was obvious that practice wasn't
happening.  Lifting his chin I turned his face towards mine and waited
while he gave up on trying to look anywhere except into my eyes.

	"Listen Tim.  You need to understand this.  You're still you, the
same kid you were a couple months ago.  Yeah, you've done things that kid
never imagined.  The ability to do that was already there, you just hadn't
discovered it yet.  Your family, friends, neighbors, teachers, they all
still see you the way they did."

	"How?"

	"An early adolescent boy just getting interested in girls while
pulling himself through puberty.  Mostly they ignore it.  If it somehow
snags their attention, it's more likely they'll smile and think about their
own youth than hand you any crap about it.  Most of them don't know you
used to cut and wouldn't want to.  None of them are interested in what you
do instead.  If any of them walked in on you being a queer slut, they'd
back out fast and try to find someplace else they needed to be."

	"But I'm not like that!  I'm not queer."

	"So what, it doesn't matter if you're panting and drooling over
some little hottie your own age, or some porn star pics a friend sent you.
Though if you've got pics of a girl your age you better be damn careful not
to get caught with them.  We're not fucking because you're queer, we're
fucking because you're a slut."

	"But I'm..."

	I was holding up my phone, playing back the video.

	"You said you'd delete that."

	"No, I said you could delete it.  It's the hottest thing I've ever
seen.  If I had a choice I'd rather throw a rock through a stained glass
window.  That would be easier to replace.  I'd like to keep them, for those
times when I'm bored, lonely and you don't need a reason not to cut.  We
both know this isn't the end of it.  You're going to do more, or at least
do it again.  You're still my slut, whether I have the vid or not.  It
might even help you go a little longer between sessions.  Like, you can
imagine that if you cut again I'll show it to somebody."

	"You wouldn't really do that, would you?"

	I gave him my best, "don't talk so stupid", look but didn't
actually promise anything.

	"Well...  If it's just you...  I mean, we already did it.  Pitching
a fit about you looking at it feels kind of silly.  Are you really going to
jack off watching it?"

	"If you had video of yourself fucking some little cutie, wouldn't
you?"

	I don't know if Tim blushed worse at the idea of me knowing he
jacks off or that I might think he was a "cutie".

	"One other thing, well, more than one but I'm trying not to
overload you.  You're straight.  The idea of being some perverts queer slut
creeps you out, but not enough to keep you from fucking like a whore when
things get that far.  You don't have to do anything but if you stop jacking
off you'll cum even harder when we do it.  Just a thought."

	Tim relaxed enough we actually had some time to practice playing
music before he left.  I relaxed a little myself as we got further away
from him catching that I switched to them instead of it while talking about
the vid, and left the question of anyone else seeing them unanswered.
There's no way in hell it was going to be a one time thing.  There was also
no way I was going to put it out in public circulation.  The thing is, Tim
wasn't the only one discovering previously unexplored desires.  Boys grow
up.  Sooner or later I'd be looking for somebody new.  It would be easier
to break the ice if I could show the new kid that, yes, boys his age really
do that sort of thing.

(Nowhere near)
The End