"Eat your breakfast, Jacob. It's the most important meal of the day."
The boy listlessly stirred his cereal. "You sound like my Dad sometimes. But you don't act like him."
"I'm not him. Tell me more about sounding like him."
"He was always saying things about what was good for me."
"What sort of things did he think were good for you, Jacob?"
"Ask for what you want. Be nice. Make people happy, cuz you want to."
"Those are excellent qualities for any person. I see those things in you. I don't want you to lose them."
He shrugged, staring at the cornflakes. "He spermed on my cereal every morning."
I've heard many stories from my charges over the years, detailing the various forms of sexual depravity to which they'd been subjected. Even so, Jacob's calm and casual recitation of his father's deviant behavior took me aback. That man had raised the bar.
"How did you feel about that, Jacob?"
"I guess it was weird the first time. It's better when you just suck it out right into your mouth."
"I'm not going to ejaculate on your cereal. You'll eat it anyway, though. Mealtimes are for eating and talking."
Another shrug and he dug in with the spoon, hunger seeming to overcome his melancholy. He wiggled constantly in his chair, a bundle of nervous energy. Being fully dressed exacerbated this behavior, as though he was allergic to clothing. I'd continued to insist that he stay clothed except when directly engaged in sex.
I have a true appreciation for boys. When awoken, their sexuality is often more overt than even the most enthusiastic girls. Perhaps this bears some relation to the obvious anatomical overtness. It's harder to ignore a penis. I enjoy their wantonness and shameless embrace of pleasure. Jacob manifested these traits to an extreme degree, without any of the boundaries that usually get instilled by rational parents. Much as I was tempted to simply exploit his history, I knew that the lad needed help. To get him on a safer path I needed to understand more about his unique upbringing. I prompted him in the hopes of drawing out the story.
"I noticed that among your things are clothes for girls."
"Ya." Milk dripped from his chin.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Jacob. Tell me about those clothes."
He chewed perfunctorily and swallowed too much at once. "I like them."
"You wore them? At home or in public?"
"Your father made you?"
"I like them. I like how people look at me when I'm a girl."
"'When I'm a girl.' You feel like a girl when you wear them?"
"I guess. I never been a girl, so..."
"'I have never been a girl,' please." The grammar lesson was reflexive on my part. I was beginning to understand. He'd refused to have his hair cut, even though it was at his shoulders. Some boys wear it that way now, so I allowed it. Now it made more sense.
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Daddy." It was sarcastic but not caustic. He was getting more comfortable with me.
"I'm not your father. I just don't tolerate ignorant speech." I gathered my thoughts for a moment. "Why do you think your father encouraged you to dress as a girl, Jacob?"
"He said some of the lonely men only want girls to blow them."
"The lonely men?"
"Ya. The men who like kids. They're lonely. Daddy and me wanted to help them."
"I see." This child's mind was an astonishing mashup of genuine caring and utter perversity. I let him eat as I absorbed and considered. So much to think about.
He pushed the bowl away, mostly empty. "I'm done. Can I please masturbate now?"
What to do with this one? I gently rested my hand on his head and looked into his soft brown eyes. They pleaded with me silently.
"Thank you for asking, Jacob. Yes you may. In your room. Put your dishes in the sink first. And get dressed when you're finished."
His grin was almost electric as he scampered away.
"Eat your breakfast, Anna. It's the most important meal of the day."
"It's weird to eat naked. Do I have to?"
"Yes. You'll get used to it soon."
"I don't want to get used to it. I want to wear clothes like normal people."
"You want to wear clothes to hide yourself, because you're ashamed of your body. Once you've completely let go of that idea, we can explore the topic further. Clothing can be a form of open expression. When you're ready, we can pick out clothes that we both find appropriate and interesting."
"What if I'm cold?" Relentless, but still a reasonable question. I wasn't out to torture the child.
"We'll turn up the heat. Now eat. I'm sure you're hungry."
She eyed the food a little suspiciously.
"It's an omelet. I was told that you like them. Ham and onions. I don't need to doctor your food, Anna. I have complete control of you without doing anything as silly as that. Meals are for eating and talking."
She took a tentative bite. Apparently finding nothing that seemed poisonous, she dug in more eagerly.
"What do you like, Anna? Is there something you're interested in, something you'd like to learn more about?"
"I like clothes."
"Noted. And now you know that you'll have to stop asking for them before you'll be allowed any. Now what else?"
She chewed thoughtfully. While it was an object lesson to have her undressed at the breakfast table, I have to admit it was also quite erotic. There were already moments when she forgot that she was naked. I felt this nascent shamelessness in my nethers.
"Horses," she finally offered.
Of course. Girls love horses. "Oh my. Yes. That's a very interesting subject. Horses. You know that they have a fascinating evolutionary history. Their distribution across the globe has had profound impacts on the economies and dynamics of the human civilizations that have found ways to exploit them. Their anatomy is also quite remarkable, as is their behavior in the herd. We can learn a great deal by studying horses, Anna. That's exciting, don't you think?"
In my intellectual fervor it took me a moment to realize that she was looking at me like I was insane.
"I meant they're pretty. I want to learn to ride one."
"Oh." I tried to hide my disappointment. "I see. Of course."
She took another bite. "I guess it would be okay to learn about them too."
A curious mind is the greatest gift a child can have, I think. I was encouraged. "Then we'll do that, Anna. We can start today."
She consumed the last of the eggs and started in on the potatoes. A serial eater, finishing one thing before beginning the next. An indication of structured thinking. There was potential here. It wasn't long before she announced that she was done.
"What now? Do we study horses?"
"Soon. First we're going to watch more video of Miranda's early time here. I think you enjoyed seeing her, Anna."
Her cheeks flushed even as she shook her head. Of course I monitored the Kindle. I knew everything she did on it. She'd re-watched the scene I'd shown her several times after I'd left her for the evening.
"It's okay, little one. It's good for you to see how another girl came to appreciate her time here. We'll watch some different times and then you'll masturbate for me again."
She was staring at her bare toes.
"It's not fair."
"Perhaps not. It's happening even so."
I took her hand as we walked back to her room. She resigned to let me hold it, her elegant fingers limp against my palm. I couldn't help but watch her bottom move along the way. Tiny and perfect in form... ivory pale... just hinting at the promise of later prominence. Patience, I told myself. All in the fullness of time.
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