Dragon

10:22 PM 6/1/10

The little timestamp at the top means that I wrote this in Notepad before publishing it on the blog. I like being able to hit F5 and get that timestamp. This is an older version of Windows, so Notepad is still pretty good. They really messed up Notepad in the later versions of Windows. It has bizarre malfunctions a lot more often than this old version, although this one has some quirks too. Anyway I kept hearing voices mentioning that timestamp and wondering what it means.

Since this is going to be an explicitly sexual blog, I will get something out of the way that 'they' want me to mention. First, when I saw the couple of pictures from 'Awkward Family Photos' advertised in the magazine, the one picture was too small for me to see what was the problem with it. I thought it was just awkward because the kids were all in their own little moods instead of smiling nicely for the camera. Actually when you see the full size picture in the book (which is at B&N) it looks like the kid has an erection, and that's why the picture is awkward. It's called 'Easter's Finest' in the 'Holidays' section.

Well, anyway, I have already written about how I love long hair on guys. This is something that I have loved ever since nursery school. I had a crush on a kid named Benjy, and he had black hair in a bowl haircut that was slightly long, longer than the other boys' hair. (My computer was named 'Ben' but that was because of Ben Feingold. I can't remember if it's still named Ben.)

So everybody already knows about that so-called 'fetish' which I think is actually what we are SUPPOSED to be attracted to. I won't get into this argument right now, but why are our bodies programmed to grow long hair, if it's a bad thing? Long head hair is the most unique distinguishing feature of the human species. We have the longest hair of any mammal on the planet that I can think of. Even a horse's tail is shorter than some people's head hair. So when a Scientific American article writes about how humans are unique because they lost most of their body hair, and how our bare, hairless skin is what makes us uniquely human, I can't even begin to express my disgust at their cluelessness. Lots of other animals are mostly hairless. Hairlessness isn't unique at all. But I said I was going to talk about the OTHER bizarre fetish that I had since I was a kid.

In the 'His Dark Materials' trilogy they talk about intercision, cutting someone's daemon away from them. Your daemon is a kind of animal spirit connected to you, part of your soul. It has something to do with sexuality, because it changes when you become a teenager, and the church associates it with original sin and Adam and Eve being kicked out of Eden. So it might also represent higher consciousness and knowledge, which also appears when you become a teenager as your brain develops. In the book he compares intercision to two things done in the real world, circumcision and castration. These things make you unable to feel intense sensations if you remove the foreskin (or the labia and clitoris if it's a woman), or any sexual desire at all when you remove the testicles (and I can hardly even bring myself to write that, it's disgusting). (Now I am being nagged by the voices, 'Nicole, please get a boyfriend.')

They said that a manganese-titanium alloy is able to insulate you from your daemon, and that was the type of metal used to cut you away from it. I wonder if there are actually any unusual shielding properties of manganese-titanium alloys. I think those were the two metals, but I should check.

Well, I am avoiding talking about the one thing that I am supposed to talk about.

Whenever I met Martin and started getting forced to send him lots of emails, they made me tell him about my sexual fetish right away, like in the second or third letter. I would never do that in the real world. I did tell my other boyfriend, Eric, about it, but only after we had known each other for a while and we were actually having sex and being intimate with each other. I would not just blurt it out to someone who was almost a total stranger when I didn't even know if he was attracted to me or wanted to have any kind of friendship or relationship at all. That was something they forced me to do.

I also mentioned the fetish to Judith Swack, but didn't say what it was. We were doing telephone therapy. Apparently, somebody 'urged' me to tell it to her, because it was my 'duty' to confess all of my 'secrets.' I believed that I had to tell her I had a sexual fetish, because that means there's something 'wrong' with me, something that needs to be 'fixed' or 'cured' or 'healed,' and that's what therapy was for.

I had already told her that I was being cyberstalked and harassed by computer hackers who followed me everywhere I went and hacked into all of the computers at all of the offices where I was working my temp jobs. When I told her this, she got excited. 'So you're one of THEM,' she said. 'But you're easier to understand than most of them are. You can communicate more clearly.' She didn't tell me what she meant by 'them.' What she meant was, a targeted individual, somebody being stalked and harassed, someone observant enough to notice things like computer hacking. Many people who experience this harassment are incoherent and hard to understand. They can't communicate or explain themselves well. But I am able to talk and write like a calm, normal, healthy person. She was excited about that. At the time, I hadn't been aware of electronic mind control or high-tech electronic weapons, and I didn't know that I was being attacked and manipulated in that way.

I had been asking her to help me stop writing to the hackers. That was what I wanted therapy for. I wanted to stop writing emails to Nerdman, which caused the hackers (and/or Nerdman) to 'respond' to the entertaining letters I was forced to write.

About the sexual fetish. Years ago, I didn't use computers very much, and I didn't know how to use the internet. I learned all that from Eric. He was already using the internet, going to computer game forums, and downloading patches and add-ons for his games, things like that. From him, I learned the basic internet skills, like how to use email, and how to search the net. This was in 1998 or so.

Eric also used the net to look for porn. We were open about this, and he told me about it from the beginning. We looked at porn sites together sometimes.

So, by myself, I decided to look for my own porn. I don't even really like to call it that. When did I learn the word 'fetish?' When did I figure out that I had one? It was probably after getting on the internet and learning more about sex from looking at porn sites.

I didn't know, back then, that every computer, everywhere, is being spied on by unknown computer hackers. They could be anyone. It doesn't matter who you are. You don't have to be someone important. Your computer is already hacked. Maybe they're using it to send spam, or maybe they're using it for some other reason. Doesn't matter. Somebody already knows everything about you, as soon as you get on the internet. But I didn't know that back then.

So I used to go searching for my sexual fetish on the net, and I didn't know that somebody was watching everything that I was looking at. It wouldn't have mattered if all they did was watch quietly. The damage was done whenever they started interacting with me. They had to get 'involved' in the fetish instead of just watching. In the beginning, they only watched, and I looked at my websites in peace, whenever I felt like it.

When I found out my computer was being hacked and spied on, I stopped looking at those web pages. 'They' got too excited whenever I used the net to look at anything sexual. To this day, I never go to porn sites anymore, unless it's something I don't care about. If I actually care about it, or if I'm actually excited by it, I don't go there. The hackers would always do things to mess up my computer to tell me 'I'm watching you, and you're being a bad girl.' There is nothing on earth that angers me more than the phrase 'bad girl.' That's one of the things that the voices started saying in the beginning when I was being attacked the most, in 2003-04. I am NOT turned on by being a 'bad girl.' This idea disgusts me. The hackers would always do a 'naughty bad girl' type of reaction whenever I went looking at porn. In the beginning, it used to enrage me. The voices attacked me when I would do anything sexual, like masturbating, and they would make a big deal out of it, and get involved when I wanted to be left alone.

But I'm jumping ahead, because in the beginning, there were no 'voices,' and there was no sexual interference. There were only computer hackers, doing things over the computer and sending harassing spam letters.

So, I told Judith Swack on the phone that I had a sexual fetish. I did not describe the fetish or name what it was. I assumed that it was a bad thing or a problem that needed to be healed. Probably, here is what really happened: The hackers were already looking at my computer and reading my mind, and they already knew about my fetish from watching me all those years, and they forced me to talk about it. I was already being attacked with mind control. I just didn't know it yet.

Her way of treating this was to do some sort of ritual prayers and affirmation-type things. We were supposed to say certain magic words and do certain procedures, like Roger Callahan's Thought Field Therapy, or 'Emotional Freedom Techniques,' the same thing without the copyright. You tap on certain parts of the body, certain acupuncture meridians, to relieve trauma and stress. And I don't remember all of the prayers and things that she taught me to say. I was an atheist, but supposedly, it didn't matter - you were supposed to be able to do it even if you didn't believe in it.

After I told her about this fetish, I started getting attacked. A few days after that conversation, I tried to masturbate while imagining my fantasy. But suddenly I was unable to visualize the images. The mind control people were zapping me and preventing me from imagining anything. I could not see any images in my head at all, no matter how hard I tried. Then, they forced me to feel a 'sensed presence,' the feeling that somebody else was there, watching me, a disgusting, repulsive, unwanted and unwelcome intruder, interfering with sex. It was portrayed as somebody who wanted to have sex with me, wanted to watch me, wanted to get involved, but I would reject them because they were disgusting, so they were watching me by force, without my permission, and making me feel disgusting, unpleasant feelings because they enjoy ruining other people's lives and causing pain and suffering. Those were all fake feelings created by the electronic attackers, when I tried to masturbate.

Then, in addition to that, I also started taking Prozac. How did that happen? Well, supposedly, I wasn't responding to therapy well enough. If I recall correctly, I heard Judith's voice in my head and I (or the voices) said, 'Get the fuck out of my head, you stupid bitch.' Maybe that wasn't even me, in fact, it probably was them. After that, Judith decided that I should see a psychiatrist and try taking some drugs, even though I had already told her that I sometimes used St. John's Wort and it was effective. She wanted me to try some other drug, a prescription drug. They were both fighting to control me, fighting for ownership of the 'territory.' So I agreed to go to a psychiatrist, who prescribed Prozac. I consider myself lucky to be alive after using Prozac.

Anyway, Prozac made sex even more impossible than it already was. The two things happened together, but I really do remember that, even without the Prozac, even before the Prozac, - and I'm not sure if I remember, though, when things happened. But it doesn't matter. After I quit the Prozac, I was eventually able to masturbate again and have orgasms, but I wasn't able to imagine the fantasy anymore. I was still being attacked and it had nothing to do with the Prozac. They zapped and buzzed my head if I tried to visualize an image, any images at all, for even a fraction of a second, and that included sexual images during masturbation, or any images at all while sitting and thinking about anything, all day long, no matter what the images were. All mental images were destroyed, including images that had nothing to do with sex. And it continued even after I quit the Prozac. It started when I told her that I had a fetish.

This is an extremely destructive attack. They forced me to think 'verbally,' always whispering in words. Whispered words are fake puppet words. They happen when another attacker forces you to whisper. (It's called subvocal speech. You don't whisper out loud. You whisper silently inside your head or in your sinuses or your throat, somewhere inside you.) Basically you're being used like a telephone, where one murderer talks through you to another murderer. One murderer operates your whispers, while another murderer listens to them and receives the message, while you, your true soul, sits silent and helpless in the background, unable to speak, unable to express itself, unable to tell the truth, unable to exist. The person listening to you mistakenly believes that YOU are the one who's talking, and they punish and attack you for things that 'you' say to them while they're listening. He (or she, or whoever) believes that YOU are the evil person saying those evil things in the whispers. YOU get burned, attacked, zapped, abused, punished, and hurt for things that another murderer is forcing you to say. They believed all these horrible things about me, because they thought that if they sat there eavesdropping on my whispers, they would hear the 'truth.' That was how it was in the beginning when the attacks were most severe.

Sometimes I look back at the past to figure out when the mind control attacks began. I had some experiences in my teenage years, and even in my early childhood. I've decided that I was born into a world where everyone is being attacked and controlled all the time, so there was no 'beginning' and I wasn't 'chosen' for any reason, no more than anybody else. We are ALL being spied on and controlled, all of the time, and it's been that way since before I was born. But the technology has only gotten better over time, and it's cheaper, faster, easier, and more efficient to spy on and control people than it used to be. The attacks definitely CHANGED, though - they got much, much, much worse - in 2003-04. They were sort of 'benign' when I was younger.

Well, here is what I remember about the sexual fetish. I guess I have to say this sooner or later. Maybe it will be easier once I get started.

I used to draw cartoons when I was very young. It's one of the few things that would settle me down and keep me in one place, because I was severely hyperactive before they put me on the Feingold Diet. I learned to draw cartoons when I was just a baby, and I watched cartoons on TV and copied their drawing styles.

I drew a lot of different pictures about different things. And I was very, very young, about five or six years old, when I remember doing this. Maybe it was later than that, maybe seven years old. But I know I was doing it when we lived in Greensburg, PA, before we moved to West Virginia. We moved when I was eight going on nine, so I was younger than eight years old when I did this.

There were some pictures that I drew secretly and didn't show to anybody else. Sometimes I drew them on the chalkboard in the basement, where I could erase them afterwards. Other times, I drew them on paper, making picture books that told a story, and then I buried them down underneath everything in my deepest desk drawer. How did I know that the pictures were 'secret?' How did I know that there was anything strange or unusual about them, or private, at such a young age when I didn't even understand what they were? I don't know. I already knew that these pictures were private.

I didn't know how to masturbate or how to have an orgasm until I was in my early or mid teens. I think I remember doing it when I was about fifteen. Before that, I used to have crushes on boys, and I wanted to kiss them and hug them, but I couldn't imagine having sex or orgasms. I knew how to feel excited, but I didn't know what to do with it or how it ended. I had been taught by my parents, and then later in sex education, that a man and woman would have sex when the penis went inside the vagina and the man would ejaculate sperm, which would fertilize the egg. I didn't know, for instance, that there was an in-and-out motion of the penis, and so, when the boys in my class in school started making jerking-off gestures with their hands, I didn't understand why they had to make that back-and-forth motion. I thought the penis just went in one time, briefly, ejaculated, and then was pulled back out.

I have to mention something else here. This is a bad topic and it's separate from talking about my sexual fetish. I will try to keep this short. I was molested when I was about eleven years old, maybe ten. There was a guy who was a friend of my parents, and we knew him from when we lived in Greensburg PA. He sometimes visited us in West Virginia. When I got to be about ten or eleven, I started developing breasts. They call the developing breasts 'breast buds.' It starts to swell around the area of the nipple, it's painful and sore, and there's hardly anything there at that time.

I have been reading about ephebophilia and hebephilia lately, and I have two perspectives on it. One perspective: I was molested, I was a victim, at a time when I didn't even know what sex was, I was weak and vulnerable and didn't know how to say 'no' to an adult, when I was taught that we are supposed to just obey everything adults tell us to do. I wasn't even really 'conscious' or self-aware yet, and wasn't really able to make important decisions. I just did things randomly because I was still very very young.

The other perspective: I know how it feels to look at young people and think that they're sexually attractive. For me, it's not much of a problem, it isn't an obsession, it's more of a tendency. I am disgusted by large, fully grown men, especially if they have big muscles. There is nothing I can think of which is more disgusting than big muscles, and no, I'm not joking, and I'm not being sarcastic. I absolutely can't stand anything more than that. I would rather have sex with a very fat guy, instead of a guy with huge, clearly defined, exaggerated muscles (and, of course, a clean-shaven head, face, and body) like the ones they show in those magazines and commercials. They are unbearably repulsive to me. They look like they're not even HUMAN. In my ranking, very fat guys are MORE attractive than very muscular guys, especially if they have long hair and beards.

So I have a tendency to like guys who are skinnier and smaller than average, but again, it's a tendency, and I've dated a variety of people, and many of them were average size and fully grown adults. While I'm reading about hebephilia, I can understand and sympathize with how it feels to like people who are young and undeveloped, just beginning to go into puberty. I can see it, and I agree, they are attractive, but just not as much of an obsession for me.

But what this guy did, when I was young - the other perspective, of being a victim and not knowing what sex was: I remember one thing, I had also done telephone therapy with Devers Branden, the wife of Nathaniel Branden. I wanted to do therapy with Nathaniel Branden, but his schedule was full, and his wife still had some spaces open, so I decided to try her. I told her about being molested, and I also told her that my brother and I had fooled around and done some things (and when I did that, it WAS done by choice, and I knew what I was doing). I shouldn't confuse those two things, because being molested at age 10-11 was very different from what I did with my brother at an age when I was able to choose. I wasn't a victim when I did what I did with my brother. I did it once, and never again. It was sort of an experiment, and I didn't really enjoy it.

But I mentioned it, and I mentioned being molested, when I did the therapy with Devers Branden (years before doing the Judith Swack therapy on the phone). I didn't like her response. She assumed that I had enjoyed all of those sexual experiences, but I couldn't 'admit' that I enjoyed them, and was ashamed to admit it. No, I insist, I didn't enjoy them, I didn't enjoy being molested, I didn't participate voluntarily, I didn't have some secret motive for being molested, I wasn't seeking attention or seeking love or something. I need to tell the whole story now because it's getting complicated. I didn't like her response - this was Devers Branden, the first person who I tried to do telephone therapy with, and there was a lot of conflict about this. I didn't do the therapy with her very long either - I couldn't afford it.

Here is what happened. When I was 10-11, and living in West Virginia, that guy came over to visit us. He had visited us many times before. But now, I was starting to develop breast buds.

He did something strange that he had never done before, or at least, I didn't remember him ever doing it before. When he did it, I felt annoyed. I didn't understand WHY he was doing it, and it seemed strange, undignified, and irritating. I was PUTTING UP with it, NOT enjoying it, and feeling annoyed while it was going on. That is what I remember: feeling annoyed, slightly disgusted, and not understanding why he would do this, along with feeling undignified and disrespected.

Here is what he did. He started picking me up and carrying me. That's right, I was a ten year old, perfectly able to walk on my own, but he started picking me up and carrying me on his hip, while he cupped my butt under his hand. We were inside the house, not needing to walk any long distance anywhere. You might pick up a very young child who's learning to walk, like a three or four year old, if you have to walk a long distance and you're in a hurry. You can carry a very young child like that. I was a ten year old who was able to walk just as fast as an adult.

He kept wanting to hang around with me and keep me sitting on his lap, and then he would want to walk around the house or walk to another room, and he would pick me up and carry me while holding under my butt. It makes me angry to talk about this, and it makes me angry when I remember trying to tell the therapist on the phone that I was molested and she assumed that I secretly enjoyed it, and that I brought it on myself, because I wanted love and attention and wanted to have sex at a young age when it's taboo for kids to have sex or want sex.

I am going to tell you, I wanted sex when I was about five years old, but it was NOT, *NOT*, *NOT* directed at yucky-looking, fat, balding (sorry, sorry, in fact, I don't even know if he was balding, but he had yucky hair - everything about him was yucky) forty-year-old men. I was attracted to adorable little boys with bowl haircuts in nursery school with me. And when I was ten, I was attracted to adorable little ten-year-old boys in my class. NOT yucky forty-year-olds with beer bellies. I was also attracted to celebrities, TV and movie stars - I liked Luke Skywalker, I wanted to kiss Luke Skywalker, and I would lie in bed fantasizing about Luke Skywalker when I was a little kid. This guy didn't look anything like Luke Skywalker. I also liked the older boys who visited the house when we had cub scout meetings. But they were only a few years older than I was.

So it's true that I was capable of sexual desire, capable of having crushes, at a very young age. But it was NOT directed at this guy.

It DOES happen sometimes that people get attracted to an older person, and they fool around with that person, or have sex, or 'get molested,' because they are attracted to that person and they WANT to have sex with an older person. It happens, it's real, I know it's true. And I'm not arguing with that. I'm saying that in my case, I DIDN'T like this guy who was picking me up and carrying me around. When it happened to me, I had several responses: disgust, annoyance, a feeling of being undignified and treated like a baby, and a feeling of being confused and puzzled and not understanding WHY he would do this strange thing. And I allowed it to happen because I didn't know how to say 'no' to an adult.

That was one big reason why I was so happy to discover that book on the shelf, my parents' book, 'When I Say No I Feel Guilty,' at age fourteen or so. I was a young teenager, I read that book, and I wished I had known it years ago. Young children need to be taught how to say 'no' strongly, but instead, they are taught to obey what adults tell them to do, and they are taught that what they themselves want, or don't want, doesn't matter.

So, I was frustrated with the phone therapy with Devers Branden, and eventually I quit it. That was years before the Judith Swack therapy. I would have wanted to tell her that, no, I insist, I did *not* secretly enjoy what this guy was doing to me.

He did other things. (I said I was going to make this short, but it's turning into a long story. Oh well.) I don't remember what happened, but one time, we went up into the den, which was also the guest bedroom, where he slept when he visited. We were in there by ourselves, and, from what I remember, I was sitting on his lap and we were talking. I don't remember what happened in there, but we were alone. Then I think that somebody came upstairs, like my dad, to go into the den, because that's where his paperwork was. I remember hiding under the bed, because I wasn't supposed to be there alone with him. I don't remember how long I was under the bed, and I don't remember how long Dad was in there, or what the guy said to him, or if anybody asked where I was.

At that time, I don't remember him touching me in any way except carrying me around and keeping me on his lap, and he wanted to do this over and over again, at every opportunity. My parents were letting him do this - I'm sure I remember that everyone could see him carrying me around.

But I finally figured out that something was very wrong with this. He did something and it crossed the 'too much' line. We were in the kitchen together, alone. He decided to pick me up and set me on the counter. He wanted me to sit up on the counter and he wanted to spread my legs and be close to me while I was sitting up on the counter. I didn't want to spread my legs. It felt weird and it didn't feel right. And I don't remember if he was picking me up, or putting me down from the counter - I think it was when he lifted me up to put me up there. He lifted me up by putting his hands under my arms from behind, and he reached around to put his hands on my breasts, and it was disgusting, and I knew it right away, this was gross. He lifted me up to the counter, set me down, and I said to him, in a fake, cutesy little voice, 'Don't ever do that again,' smiling and being cute, like it was only a joke, in a baby voice, and I think I remember holding up my finger the way you do when you wag your finger at someone to scold them. I had to pretend I was only joking and not serious, because you can't say 'no' to an adult, and you can't tell them never to do things again.

After that happened, I complained to my mom right away. They had already seen him picking me up and carrying me around, I'm sure they did, and they had seen me sitting on his lap. But when he felt my breasts, I knew it was disgusting right away, and I told Mom what happened. I think we told Dad too. They told me to just stay far away from him and don't get close to him anymore.

He would always ask for a hug, every time he saw me. So I had to avoid him and say no, and walk out of the way if he was there. And I felt disgusted and sickened by him at that time and I definitely did NOT want him to do anything else to me.

Eventually he left, but he sometimes came back to visit again. And I think I might have hugged him once or twice after that. I don't think that I always said 'no,' consistently, all the time.

I didn't get a chance to tell all that to Devers Branden when I was trying to do telephone therapy with her. She assumed that it was a consensual molestation, one of those things where you have a lonely kid who's feeling sexual desires and doesn't know how to express them, and an adult comes along and shows them how to be sexual, and they enjoy it. This is something that does, sometimes, happen. I am not going to say that it never happens. But that is not how it happened with me.

There is a reason why I'm mentioning all this in the context of talking about my own fetish. I know what it is like to have a strange, bizarre sexual desire that is impossible to do in reality. If you tried to do it, you would die, because it is physically impossible. As I said, I've been reading about hebephilia and ephebophilia, and reading a journal from somebody who's writing about it, and I'm able to see it from both perspectives, from a victim's perspective, and from the view of an adult who does feel - I myself feel - that young people are sexually attractive, except that I'm lucky enough not to feel quite as strongly about it as a true hebephile does. But I know how it is to have inconvenient, dangerous, or impossible sexual desires.

It's frustrating enough to like guys with long hair, when there aren't any. It's frustrating enough to like uncircumcised guys (after finally learning that circumcision exists, and finally learning why it was so difficult and painful to have sex, and why it was so difficult to help my boyfriend masturbate, and why they need all these lubricants and unnatural techniques to have sex, when it's supposed to be easy and painless). It's frustrating enough to have a tendency to like skinny, young-looking guys in their teens or early twenties more strongly than I like the fully grown adults.

(I can go to a dating website, and in an instant, I can find literally hundreds, or thousands, of men who are DESPERATE to go out with me and have sex, in an instant, and I'm not attracted to them. This is not because of something special about me, but it is because men usually feel a stronger need for sex than women do, and that is a 'rule of thumb', not an official law of nature, and there are lots of people who will argue that the opposite is true, or whatever, but I have observed that men are usually more desperately in need of sex than women are, especially on dating websites. And there is a huge ratio of men to women. Every woman could be dating 50 men, and there would STILL be a shortage of women, and thousands of men would still not have anybody. This ratio is important and I should talk about it, but I'll save it for some other time. There is a terrible shortage of women, and an excess of men.)

Anyway, those things are frustrating enough. But at least they are physically possible, and not illegal. It's POSSIBLE for me to find guys who are uncircumcised, young-looking, and have long hair, and I can do this without going to jail or hurting anybody. So I have compassion for someone who is a hebephile and they are unfortunate enough to want something that is illegal, and the society doesn't support them (and calls them crazy and evil and everything else), and it doesn't support the children either. You have to teach children how to say 'no' when they want to say 'no.' That means you have to sacrifice some of the control you have over your children. It means you can't expect your children to blindly obey everything you ever tell them to do, because you are going to teach them that they can do what they want, or refuse to do what they don't want. If older people will ever get any kind of permission to be with younger people, the young people will have to be able to say 'no.' And if someone violates that 'no,' it's just as bad as violating the 'no' of an adult.

This also means that young people should be able to employed at a job. I oppose the child labor laws, as a libertarian/anarchist. Young people should be able to support themselves and leave home if they want. This is the best way for them to escape from parents who are abusing them or molesting them or letting them be exposed to other people who are doing things the kids don't want to do.

Okay, is that enough on that subject? I am supposed to tell what my own physically impossible, deadly, bizarre, unrealistic fantasy fetish is. Anyone who's looked into my computer would already know about it, but that's not everybody.

I think I must have seen it on cartoons to get this idea. I was a very little kid, and I started drawing pictures of cartoon animals eating things. They could eat anything. It might be food, but it might just as well be other objects, large objects that you could not possibly eat in reality. They could swallow them whole or chew them up. (I wasn't into 'vore.' I saw it when I was looking for websites about this, and some people like to imagine somebody swallowing live creatures, usually swallowing them whole, and I might have imagined that sometimes, but not usually.) The purpose of this was to make them get fat, but it wasn't the same as gaining weight or becoming obese. They didn't get fat all over their body, it was just the stomach. When I drew these pictures I felt a tickling sensation in my stomach, a lot like what happens when you are swinging on a swing, or you're in the car and you go up over the top of a hill and then fall down suddenly and there's a negative g-force lifting you out of your seat. Or a roller coaster.

This was not just ordinary eating. It would be physically impossible to eat this much and survive. I drew pictures of their stomach becoming so big that it went outside the boundaries of the picture. I used to lie in bed fantasizing about this, and, again, I was very very young, and didn't understand what it was, or how it ended. It was just some strange thing that I wanted to think about. And somehow I knew that nobody else should see these pictures.

One time my mom cleaned out my desk drawer, without asking me, without telling me she was going to do it. She just got on some kind of cleaning kick, and was going through all my desk drawers and throwing things away. She found the drawings buried underneath all the books and stuff in the one drawer, and she threw away all the drawings without telling me. I went to look for them and they were gone. I don't remember what I said to her, whether we ever talked about it, whether I ever asked her what she did. I vaguely remember that she told me she cleaned out the drawers.

So, when I became a teenager, this was the fantasy that I was masturbating to. I didn't actually binge and purge in reality, and I know there are some people who do. The closest thing I ever did to that was seeing how much lemonade I was able to drink, and I'm lucky it was lemonade, because if it had been water, I might have gotten water poisoning and not known what to do about it. I had a vomit phobia, so I didn't drink a lot, and I was careful. It's possible to drink too much water and mess up your electrolytes so badly that you can die from it. It happened recently, a few years ago, when they did a contest, 'Hold Your Wee For A Wii.' They were competing to see who could drink the most water without going to the bathroom, and whoever won the contest would get a Nintendo Wii. The winner died a while after the contest because of water poisoning. If you get water poisoning, you have to replace your electrolytes, and use a diuretic to get the water out of your body, like caffeine. Taking a caffeine pill would probably be the best way, because if you drank coffee, you'd be temporarily adding more water. You should add some kind of salt, too, from my understanding. I've had strange feelings sometimes after drinking too much, especially when I used to drink distilled bottled water, and I think I was getting a mild case of water poisoning when I used to drink distilled, and I treated it (when it happened recently) by eating salt. If I get any strange dizzy feelings or 'having a seizure' feelings after drinking lots of water, that's what I do.

When I was little, I didn't understand that this was sexual. I only understood it when I became a teenager and learned how to masturbate. The sensation in my stomach was connected to the sensation of having an orgasm. I think that the stomach is designed to release oxytocin whenever you eat enough to get full. Oxytocin is also one of the hormones involved in sex and orgasms.

And then later, when I looked it up on the internet, I found out that other people had this fetish too, and it was sexual, and other people had slightly different variations on it and different ways of doing it. If I recall correctly I searched for 'belly inflation fetish' or something like that, or 'belly expansion' or something. There were only a few websites about this, and most of them were not really what I was looking for. (The hackers nowadays STILL don't understand the 'right' way of doing it, and they send harassing images of people doing it the wrong way, and they are always reminding me 'I'm watching you.')

It was impossible to find cartoons that were heterosexual from a female point of view. Most of them were either 1. homosexual pictures of males feeding other males - some artist that I liked was named Rob something or Bob something - his art was pretty good - the voices might remind me of his name later on, because I don't want to go looking for this on the internet - the murderers always zap me with a physical burning sensation that says 'you're being watched' whenever I search for anything at all on the internet, so I can't look for that artist, the same way that I can't google the name of the guy I'm attracted to until the murderers decide that I'm 'allowed' to google that name. Anyway, they were either homosexual, or 2. heterosexual pictures of males feeding females. They did not show heterosexual females feeding males. There are very few female fetishists drawing heterosexual female cartoons and putting them on the internet. I'm able to draw cartoons, and I actually considered doing it myself, but have never really had the time to do it while my life has been so disrupted.

Now I can finally explain about what happened after I mentioned a fetish to Judith Swack on the phone. Like I said, I never told her what exactly it was. I just thought that it meant something was 'wrong' with me, and therefore I should mention it as something that needed therapy.

After mentioning it, the first thing that happened was I couldn't imagine the fantasies anymore. I had fantasy characters, creatures and animals, that would do this thing in my mind. They took away the fantasy creatures and wouldn't let me see them anymore. When they did it, they made it feel as though I was losing an imaginary friend. This is very, very similar to intercision, where they cut away your daemon, your animal spirit, your imaginary friend, who changes during puberty and has something to do with sex. The voices then started taunting me, and have been taunting me all this time, that they took my dragon away from me, and that they were going to 'help me find my dragon again.'

So I noticed it when the movie 'Avatar' had them riding on dragons, and bonding with dragons in a psychic, spiritual way. I also noticed it when I saw the movie 'The Golden Compass,' which I hadn't ever read yet at the time when this happened to me. It is almost exactly like The Golden Compass, yet I had never read that book yet. The dragon was one of my favorite fantasy characters to imagine.

I was very, very angry when this started happening, when they forced me to be unable to fantasize anymore. I had thought that I needed 'therapy,' which meant that I might be gently cured and treated in some compassionate way, perhaps talking about it, or trying to understand what this fantasy might mean, or why I might be thinking about this, or talking about whether it interfered with my sex life, or something like that. I did *NOT* mean that I wanted electronic mind control attackers to zap my brain, without my permission, to physically prevent me from fantasizing about this fetish when I wanted to masturbate.

These murderers talked to me while they were doing this. They told me something which is NOT TRUE: They told me that, whenever I fantasized about this fetish, my spirit was psychically going out into the world and telepathically FORCING other spirits to do this gluttony fetish, without their consent. I was portrayed as an evil monster who forced other spirits to do something that was painful and sadistic and terrible for them. The fantasy was distorted and mis-portrayed as something sadistic, harmful, painful, and non-consensual. That is totally different from what the fantasy is. There is no pain whatsoever, and it has nothing to do with pain or sadism at all, even though it is physically impossible and it would kill you in reality if you tried to do it. The murderers insisted that it was painful, and that my psychic spirit was leaving my body and astral-projecting out into other people's minds and forcing their spirits to do something painful and terrible that they didn't want to do.

Because of that, I rejected *ALL* accusations that I was 'psychic.' I decided that there was no such thing as 'psychic power' or 'astral projection.' I decided that it was IMPOSSIBLE for me to be leaving my body and forcing other people to do things, without even knowing that I had this power, and without being able to control it or do it at will. I decided that EVERYTHING I was experiencing was caused by electronic mind control, and that it was being inflicted upon me from outside by murderers pushing buttons on computer screens and other devices, and it was not my fault at all and not under my control at all. And I *HATED* them for accusing me of these things and misunderstanding and misinterpreting my fetish and my mental experiences and my fantasies.

They always misinterpreted and misportrayed the fantasies. I wrote up above that I could only find a few things on the internet, and it was either homosexual males, or males feeding females. Because of that, the murderers and mind controllers believed that I wanted to see things happening to females. In reality, I used to imagine doing it to myself, when I was very young, or I imagined it happening to males.

Not only that, but the murderers believed it was about 'sadism' and 'submissives.' They portrayed the recipient as being 'forced' to do this against their will, and it was painful and unbearable and they didn't want to. But in my mind, it was not painful at all, and they might only run away briefly or pretend to resist, but not really, and not for long, and it was clear that they were not really fighting against it. It was clearly portrayed as something they *wanted* to do. The murderers would watch me and distort the fantasies so that the people were victims experiencing pain and suffering and I was portrayed as an evil person hurting other people without their consent.

There really are people out there who torture other people and cause pain and suffering without their consent. They are the people pushing the buttons on these electronic mind control devices and reading people's minds and putting fake thoughts and feelings into them and giving them disgusting, horrible nightmares when they sleep. I am not doing anything like that, and I never have, and I never will.

No matter how much I explained it to the voices, to the murderers, over and over, they never understood the fetish the way I do. To them, it is always about pain and sadism and domination. No matter how I explained it, they never understood, and they always twisted it to be something different from what it was to me.

Not only that, but also, they need to shut up and not try to get involved, because no matter what they do, it will be the wrong thing. It still happens nowadays, even though I don't even try to do the fantasy anymore, I just try as hard as I can to think about nothing at all when I masturbate, I try to do it without any fantasies or images at all, and it's nothing but a physical sensation that I have to focus on. When I do this, the murderers are still always there and they try to get involved. They say things to me and they do things, and just having anybody there at all makes me get very angry. It's worst if I've been exposed to any drugs or aphrodisiacs recently when they are talking to me.

I think it's a general rule that you can't understand somebody else's fetish if it's different from your own. It is always going to seem bizarre, impossible, disgusting, and unexplainable. Every fetish is so specific, with so many little rules about how it works and how to do it 'right' or 'wrong.'

In the real world, my fetish expresses itself as feeling something sacred, something special and wonderful, about feeding someone I love. For instance there was a time when Martin was still working at the store and he came over to buy chicken wings, but they were old and stale and lukewarm, and I told him I wanted to make new ones for him so that they would actually be good, but he said it was okay and he didn't need new ones. (I wrote down the exact words somewhere in my opera notes, and I can't remember it right now.) I think he said 'I don't care' when I said the chicken wings weren't very good, and he was grinning at me because I was all embarrassed and flustered and trying to be nice to him. Then he said he wanted honey to dip them in, but we couldn't find any, and we walked right past this little plastic bear that had honey in it, and somebody else found it, and then he had to (oh no, I'm laughing) shake it so that the honey would come out, and the guy who worked in seafood saw him doing that and days later he was still imitating him shaking the bear to get the honey to come out, and saying 'shake that bear.' That was memorable enough that I wrote it all in detail after it happened.

Anyway, the only thing that I do with this in real life is, as I said, something ordinary and loving which it's normal to do anyway - I associate feeding with love and sex, and there is something wonderful about making food for someone, giving it to them, and seeing that they like it.

Bob Drake. That's it. I knew they would give me the name sooner or later. 'Drake,' that's funny, that has to do with a dragon also. Maybe that's why they associated it with the dragon. He was an artist who made explicit homosexual gluttony cartoons that were close enough to my own fantasy images. If you ever look at them, they will seem weird and disgusting, and possibly hilarious, and bizarre. It's something you can only understand if you have that fetish yourself. I've looked at other people's fetishes, I've read that column by Dan Savage (and I don't always agree with him, either), and I know that some other people have fetishes that are much more disgusting, dangerous, cruel, impossible, and bizarre than my own, and some of them involve doing things against another person without their consent. And I myself have been the victim, and am right now still a victim, of people doing things against my will, against my refusal, without my consent, things which cause pain and suffering. So I think that even though my fetish cartoons seem childish and bizarre and weird, they are much nicer than a lot of things that other people are doing, especially the things done WITHOUT consent.

I should reread this to see if I've forgotten to mention anything - I'm sure I have, and I'll think of it later. I could always go into more detail or tell more of the things that 'they' do to me, or things that I did when I was younger, or more detail about exactly what happens in the fantasies, but I'm not going to do that right now. I think I'll just post this as it is. But now you can understand what I mean whenever I say that I had an imaginary friend who was taken away from me by the murderers, just like the daemons are cut away from people in that book, and how I can relate to that story in a lot of ways. So that's it for now.