Whereabouts Unknown (!!!)

I hate to ... act in bad taste. But this is what has come to mind ... in a sense ... referring to my mind somehow.
And such is the issue. I mean ... I'm ... being ... well, something is telling me I should write about "this". And "this" is usually taking me to places I didn't think I was going; And never really where I thought it would.

I mean, I kind of want to be direct - but somehow I can't.
And I suppose a part of it comes down to how I haven't quite resolved the whole thing internally just yet. And 'naturally', I'd say, I have a difficult time trusting what's going on when all sorts of images flash in and out of my mind. Hmm, I wrote something recently (And now what? / Gooning, the Sex Drive and Love).


I don't exactly know what note that left off on; And that's possibly a good way to start this. Whatever note this ends on - it's like a shore. The outlines move, sometimes more and other times less. Maybe it stays the same for a while, maybe it's moving one way or the other.

But so, my heart is on a quest of sorts. This quest has led me to a set of images I'm weirdly obsessed over ... but they're drenched in ... let's say "disturbances" for now. Well, it's the membrane I was writing about. But ... there's more. A sense of realness ... one way or another. If someone were to tell me that those are like eye-whitness drawings ... I might believe it. So, what is it that I'm looking at?

I suppose I'm looking at a line. The line where the joke stops being funny. These lines exist everywhere, for better or worse. The line doesn't say whether or not the joke is funny - but where it is and where it isn't. It makes me then feel like a child. Pampered in safety, unharmed, ... wanting things, silly things, ...

Now might some feel the urge to be mad at me for ... romanticizing or associating with the victims in these images. As silly as I feel about it, as ashamed or guilty does it make me feel. It confuses me. But at the end of the day I understand that what I want isn't what they ... received. I sit in safety whether my dreams were like this or like that. That makes me no less a child, but it's not like I want 'them' to be "there" either. And I wouldn't think that they would want to be like me.


There so is the one set. Something about them is on fire. They're that little bit more cruel than ordinary "Rape Drawings" to make them Dark, but not as over the top as these nonsensical snuff-fest-vore-explosions-whatever-shabang.
I'm drawn in - I find all the things I'm looking for - but looking at it, it doesn't feel real. Or safe, perhaps, to associate.
And so the other set. It's really shameless lolicon rape stuff. And there's a ... spot. I get to think of #3 - and when I think that this could be her, I'm sucked into a ... an experience ... one I don't want to see or think of at all so I pull out, but for a brief moment ... while in there ... I'm ... aroused by it. My clit is ... it wants to be in there. Change places perhaps.
But what am I looking at?
I mean ... since it's been on my mind ... I got curious. And while I was with my sex-drive ... you might say ... in the vicinity ... I tried to see, and what I found was ... emptiness. To say, perhaps ... that the finger that drove me there ultimately turned it into the backdrop for a question: How many? How often? How much?

I mean, these are things our minds would need to fill in. And so the question is whether that which turned me on was my own fantasy of it - or the actual account of possible things. And yea ... I mean, on first base this is squarely my own fantasy. And not of me fetishizing her. It's like what my ... sensitivities project into the "maybe".
But ... I wouldn't read it like that at first. I'd reject the whole thing ... it's making me feel uncomfortable, I feel dirty, I feel like I need a lawyer. And so ... it might begin. I put one of my intimacies up with one such strange association - and now what do I want? Do I want it or do I not want it? If I want it, what does that make of me? If I don't want it, what am I writing about all the time?
And so on second base this reads as a possible deception.

On third base then I'm compelled to look further into my initial perception of the situation - and it's just a different coating for a place already well established within me. Hmm ... which one?
Well, there's another third base. Here the other line intensifies - where ... the fantasy over her getting raped blooms into her being raised into an obedient sex-slave; And now you may wonder whether it's OK for you or not.


And of course ... it's going to be fine. I don't suspect that my spouse whomst is vetted by the most High ... and catered to me through the same ... would harm me just for the heck of it. I mean ... that's one thing I see in those images. The intent to do harm. Suffering. Outrage perhaps just for the heck of it. And how one comes out of the end of that ... like, in this world when ... that kind of stuff is done ... I dare not hazard a guess.

But so I may wonder perhaps ... whether it is true then? Am I to be enticed by her presumed background? Is that the pitch?
Or is it outrageous to even assume?

Some parts of me like to think that it's not impossible. But then again ... what are the numbers?
Hmm ... multiplied by ten? Wha? Is that really in there? ... ???

Oh, so ... I had 5 so that's why then there were like 50. OK. Oh oh, now it's 500 ... 5000 .... aaaaaah!


But yea, 50 is a spicy number I assume.
Not that I have an urge to be an expert on these things just yet.


As for me - well. Harm is ... twofold in this. There is harm how it is in this world. And then there is that same harmful behavior, but in a world where that doesn't lead to serious harm. And because we're flexible there ... well, we can have it one way or the other.
Or the other.
Or the other.
...


I supposed the key term is 'civilized'. Well, as civilized as a band of orcs might be.