"You'll keep your clothes on and your hand out of your pants until we're finished, Jacob."
The gangly boy slumped in his chair and pouted. A unique quandary, this one. I didn't pick him. My associates at the group home had reached out and asked for my help. Eight-year-old Jacob was out of control in ways that normally the staff would have appreciated, but his case was so extreme that they felt they couldn't be responsible for him.
It seems that the boy's father was quite literally insane. When Jacob was just five, his mother had run off and left the lad in Daddy's care. Over the next three years, the man became increasingly deranged by the loss. In his mania, he systematically shaped the boy into a weapon of revenge against his ex-spouse. He trained the child to be a voracious sexual pervert. This indoctrination was so successful that Jacob seduced his mother's boyfriend during a weekend visitation. To protect his father, Jacob blamed the incident on the hapless beau, resulting in criminal charges and the revocation of any maternal custody rights. The authorities dug a little deeper and eventually Jacob admitted that he was only doing with Mommy's friend what he'd already been doing with Daddy. The child saw nothing whatsoever wrong with this. His upbringing taught him to want sex and to shamelessly seek what he wanted.
When he'd landed at the group home, it was quickly discovered that Jacob couldn't be left among the other children. A placement in a normal foster home also seemed impossible. Hence, me.
I've never been one to refuse a challenge. This was highly intriguing. I had wide latitude with the boy since the group home was delighted to be rid of him. I took it upon myself to try to bring him back to a functional level of normalcy, to enable this child to lead something of a productive life. But in the process, I also hoped to retain and channel Jacob's seemingly inexhaustible and uninhibited hunger.
"Can you focus for another thirty minutes? You know that you won't get what you want unless you can."
The tyke twisted his mouth to the side. "I guess so. Daddy made me wait sometimes."
"Did he? Tell me about that, Jacob."
"He said I couldn't masturbate when I woke up cuz I'd like my orgasm better if I waited."
Tho boy's education had included an insistence on using proper names for things. As batshit as his father had been, I appreciated the clarity he'd engendered in his son's language.
"That's a good lesson. Patience is a virtue."
A slight roll of the eyes. "You sound just like him."
"I'm not like him, Jacob, in some ways at least. You're in different circumstances now. You won't be seeing your father again."
After a week with me, he still hadn't accepted this fact. He'd relied on his father for everything and clearly loved the man with an intense and profound devotion. This would be a long transition. The sadness on his small face was palpable. He needed kindness and acceptance and much as rehabilitation.
"I shouldn't have told."
He blamed himself, of course. Society's reaction to a situation like his is often far more traumatic to the child than the situation itself. For him though, I think the system was actually helpful. His father would have continued to degenerate until it became genuinely dangerous.
"You father was using you to hurt your mother."
"My mother's a piggy whore bitch who deserves to be skull-fucked to death cuz she ran off and left us."
His language still had the ability to shock me. It was sad, the anger and violence that infused one so young. I tried to make a measured response. "That's what your father taught you. I think your mother was just a troubled woman who did her best. You need to forgive her, Jacob."
He shrugged. "I liked seeing her face go all white when she saw me sucking on her boyfriend's penis. Daddy was really happy when I told him."
"But you see how it turned out. It seldom benefits us when we act out of anger."
He frowned. "I don't know why they didn't understand. They shouldn't have sent Daddy away. They shouldn't have sent me... here."
"They didn't understand because much of what your father taught you isn't accepted by society. You need to know this. If you're going to have any sort of life, you need to adapt. I'm going to help you, if I can."
"What if I don't want your help?"
"I seem to be your last resort, Jacob. Your alternatives are very limited and not at all attractive."
He considered this for a moment and seemed to acquiesce. His next question was one he'd asked me continuously since his arrival.
"Why do I have to wear clothes here?"
Apparently his father had largely kept him naked at home. "People wear clothes. It's something you need to get used to."
Given what I've shared of my narrative so far, my answer may surprise you. I do generally prefer my child wards to go bare around the house. Jacob was a special case. Most of my charges needed to have their sexuality awoken and encouraged. This boy needed to learn to behave within some rational norms.
He slouched low in his chair, his face desolate and petulant.
"Thirty more minutes, Jacob. You can do it. Sit up."
This evoked a deep sigh, but he lifted his bottom back into the chair. We proceeded with the lesson. He was actually very bright, able to read well above his grade level. We covered much of the emergence of Europe from the Dark Ages and the origins of the Renaissance before his patience gave way. It was the image of the Vitruvian Man that triggered him.
"He's naked." He giggled. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was still just a little boy.
"Yes. Da Vinci was a great student and illustrator of the human form. See how he uses this image to demonstrate the perfect symmetry of our bodies."
"I want to suck on your penis." No filters between his thoughts and his words. More to work on.
"Is that request appropriate at this time, Jacob?"
He looked down. "I guess not."
"Why is it not appropriate at this time?"
"We're still in school, I guess. Kinda. I mean, it's not a real school."
"That's right, Jacob. Very good. For us, this is our real school. We don't talk about those things in school, do we? Because most people won't understand. They'll get upset, like they did when you told them about you and your father."
His lower lip extended. Finally, a small nod and an expectant look.
My turn to sigh. "Very well, Jacob. Class is dismissed."
His smiled brightened instantly. I was astonished at how rapidly his clothing was on the floor and his childish fingers were tugging at my zipper. Again, I had to give his father some credit. The boy's mouth was eager, thorough and superbly effective. His small hand yanked at his slender erection almost frantically as he worked. No hesitation from him when my climax approached. He consumed me with visceral thirst and refused to detach until I ever-so-gently insisted.
Should the story continue? I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at email@example.com
Please make a donation to support Nifty! Nifty.org