Case History 7
Subject: Keith L. Age: Fifteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Two days before the boy's fifteenth birthday, he had a record of five arrests, for sexual offenses. He had been released on all of the previous occasions, except for the last, in the custody of his mother.
The judge always thought it odd, that the boy never seemed to be happy about going home with her, but he asked no questions, the first and the second time.
By the third time, he did, but got no answers. After that, he did give the boy a choice of staying at family-type detention homes or going to another relative if he did not wish to return with his mother. But the woman became irate, and since she was his legal guardian, he again went' home with her. It was at the judge's request that he was sent into therapy.
Why do they always keep sending me back to live with that bitch? You'd think the judge would have gotten the idea before now. She's the one I hate, her and my two darling sisters.
It just bugs my ass to hell to have to live with them. If I had my way, I would never so back to them, even if I had to go to jail. That woman is a bitch and I wish she was dead. I wish her dead so much that I'm not afraid to say it to you.
But don't worry. I won't murder her. You must know what my speed is by now. All I do is fuck them and leave them lying there. Once I fuck them good and proper, I figure they have enough of a lesson, so why should I kill them?
I really think it's better this way. If they're still alive, they'll remember what I did to them forever. And maybe they'll tell their friends. One thing is for sure. They know who I am.
And they know that I'm a pretty big man, even if I am only fifteen. Well almost fifteen. Look at me yourself. Don't I look like a pretty big guy?
I'm an even bigger guy when I'm working over a broad. I've got myself a damn big prick, and I know that it hurts them a lot when I shove it into them. And that isn't all that's big about me when I'm working one of them over. I feel about ten feet tall, and built like superman, when they're lying there, crying and screaming all over the place.
They have to be taught a lesson. They all have to be taught that a guy isn't supposed to do woman's work, and he isn't supposed to be treated like a little sissy kid. Sometimes I get so sick of that shit at home, that something happens in my head, and I just go crazy. I start throwing things at the three of them and smashing stuff up all over the place.
That's when I know that I have to get the hell out of there, and find some way that I can work off the steam. If I would have hung around there, I might have done something really bad. Something that I could never take back or walk away from.
It always starts out the same way. I smash up the house, and then I tear out of there. I'm hoping that if I run it off, or get drunk, or get into a brawl with another guy, then maybe I can get it all out of me, and then I can go home again.
I don't even bother going to school anymore. And the bitch just lies for me whenever they come around to get me. She don't want to have no more trouble with me. So she tells them that I run away or something.
If she would just love me a little, and stop doing all the shit she does to me, things might be different. That stupid bitch doesn't know the difference between loving and smothering a guy with all that sick mothering junk. Doesn't she know that I'm a guy, and that's a lot different than the way she's supposed to be bringing up the girls?
Now this is really gonna floor you. When I was little ... I mean when I was a baby, she used to keep me in these little white dresses. I even had long hair until I was old enough to scream my head off about it.
Ever since I can remember, she's been all the time screaming about what a bastard my father was, and how men ain't no good at all. My sisters are eighteen and twenty-one. They ain't never made it with a man.
I have a hunch that they're both dykes, and the other girls that they hang out with, if you can call them girls. Well, I know that they're lesbians without a doubt.
Wouldn't you think my old lady would know it too? She's the one that thinks it's so terrific that they took her advice and don't waste no time making it with guys. That's why I can't blame the girls too much for the way they treat me. It's like they been trained to treat me like that.
It ain't that the girls don't love me. They fuss over me when I feel sick, and they see that I got clean clothes and dinner on the table. My old lady don't even see to that. I think she would a been really happy if I turned gay, the way my sisters did.
Then she wouldn't have to worry about me forcing my attentions on pure ladies. That's the way she puts it, not me. According to her, if a guy was any sort of decent, he would leave ladies the hell alone with his prick.
She says no lady wants a prick, and she only puts up with it, because it's expected of her. And she says that she wouldn't kicked my old man out of the house week after I was born if he wasn't all the time forcing her to make it with him.
Of course, we don't know what all the time is. But if you know my old lady, then you know she must have hit the ceiling if the old man wanted a fuck about once a year, on Christmas. She says he got violent and started drinking a lot.
She says that he forced himself on her all the time, and she cried and tried to fight him off. According to her, he raped her the three times that she got knocked up.
That old bitch don't even know what rape is. If she keeps up treating me that way, one of these days I might just show her. You know, I never yell at her. And I never try to hit her or throw anything at her. I always do all that shit around her.
Somehow I can't make myself beat up on her, even though I hate her enough sometimes to want to kill her. It's all really weird. Because even when I'm hating her enough to stick a knife in her back, I feel like I gotta love her because she's my old lady just the same.
So what am I supposed to do? I gotta get out of there before there ain't no furniture left in the house. And if I hang around throwing stuff, while she's yelling that I turning out I'm just like my old man, I start to feel like I wanna kill her.
I just gotta go out and get it out of my system. They didn't catch me every time I did it. I been doing stuff like this to women since I was thirteen or so. Only I was too skinny then to just get what I wanted from beating up on them, and telling them that I would if I didn't get what I wanted from them.
In those days, I used to carry this big carving knife around. That's the way I got my first piece of ass, and now it looks like the only way that I can really dig on getting it. No, I don't have to use the knife anymore, but I still dig on scaring them into it.
There's plenty of young ass that I can get if I want it. I know I ain't a bad-looking guy, and there are plenty of chicks, even ones a lot older than me, who would spread their legs if I just snap my fingers.
But there ain't no kick in that. It's not much fun when you can get it all that easy. In fact, it's no fun at all. Fucking just ain't no kick at all when they hand it to you on a silver platter. I mean, who needs it?
I'm not looking to fall in love with those chicks. I don't even like them. You know what goes on in my head when I'm fucking one of them, or I have my fist right up against her face? I'm just thinking how much I hate all of those bitches. Especially the ones that remind me of my old lady. Those are the ones that I would really love to beat up on.
A couple of times I tried to make it with pretty young chicks and a couple of them would have gone for me in a real big way, but I didn't dig 'em. Okay, I guess I could tell you the truth. When I was with those pretty young chicks, I couldn't get a hard-on.
They were nice to look at, and I figured that I might have a pretty good time with them, but when they were ready to spread their legs, I just couldn't get it up. I don't care what you say. That doesn't mean that I ain't a man.
And if you don't think I'm a man, then you just go ahead and ask any of the broads that I did fuck. So what if I had to beat up on them a little, or scare the shit out of them.
You can be sure that after I fuck one of them that way, they stay fucked. Sometimes I wonder about those broads. I mean I really think that they kind of dig on being screwed by force. After all, they are probably getting the best lay they ever had.
I can tell they respect me when I see that scared look in their eyes. Too bad I can't get my old lady to look at me that way. Then let her tell me that men ain't no good.
That's about the best part of all of this. I get to see the old lady's face when they tell her that they have me down as a sex offender. And when they read what I was supposed to have done to some bitch, she has to sit there and hear it all.
I want her to hear every fucking word of it. And then let her tell me that I ain't a man. She's all the time saying that men are weak and spineless. Well, of those broads that I raped would ever dare call me shit like that. You have to see the look on them when they identified me. They sure didn't see me as being weak and spineless.
I guess you could say that I get two kinds of kicks out of what I do. There's the kick of teaching a cunt some respect for a pair of balls. And there's the kick of showing my mother how much I hate her for putting me down all the time. Because I would maybe like to kill her, I think that maybe I'm taking it out on all those cunts.
Some cop asked me if I would really like to fuck my mother or one of my sisters, and was that the reason that I was raping all of those broads. I stood up and tried to beat on that stupid cop's face, but they wouldn't let me get near him.
That burns my ass when they ask me stuff like that. And they're always asking that shit. What bugs me most of all is that after a while, I start asking myself the same things. And when I ask myself, there's nobody around to hear the answers, so I try to be honest.
I really do. And I just don't think that's it. I would like to beat up on them, and I know that it means a lot to me that they find out once and for all that I'm a man, and it ain't all that bad to be a man. But none of those bitches in my house turns me on.
Those two are dykes, so I wouldn't have any use for them in the first place. And the old broad is so icy and shriveled up, that she wouldn't be able to even give it away.
So who needs them? I can't handle the idea that I would want to fuck them, so I'm taking out my frustrations on the rest of the cunts. Except there's a little part of that which could ring a bell with me.
I mean, the frustrated part. Not about sex. I get all the kicks I want when I go out on the streets for it. But the doc over at the detention place they take me to overnight, well, he says that there are other kinds of frustrations, and was- the way they were treating me at home, maybe was a reason for what I did.
Some of that jives a little. I told you how I get so mad that I tear the place up. And how I want to kill that old broad. But how can I do shit like that? So maybe they're right when they say that I go out on the streets to take it all out on those other broads.
Because I always feel so great after I do it to them. When it's over, I can even go back to that house and listen to all of that shit again. But not for too long.
After the first couple of times when I got caught, I was itching in that cell, just itching to see her stupid, ugly face when she found out what I did. And now just getting busted, but getting busted for rape. Well, what could be better than that?
I can't think of anything. So I guess they're right when they put it that way for why I do it and I get better and better at it all the time.
I've got it down to where I know just what kind of broads I'm going to go after, depending on what I was mad about at the time.
If I'm sick of looking at my dykey sisters, then it's a young broad that needs a work-out. I just want to make sure that they get a good taste of cock, and don't forget what it's all about. That's what both of my sisters could use. It would straighten them right out.
And when my old lady goes a little too far, which is just about all the time, then she's the one that needs the lesson. All those old broads need a lesson, anyway. They're all so uptight and proper about everything they do. A good fuck loosens them right up.
You know something. There was never one of them that ever said I was a little kid or a sissy. They treat me with the kind of respect that I should be getting at home.
But the first couple of ones that I did were really too easy. All I did was show them the knife and they lay right down and spread their legs. A couple of those times I was feeling all that hurt and mad inside and I was just itching for them to do or say something so that I would have an excuse to beat up on them, even just a little.
With those first couple of ones, I didn't get the chance to beat up on them, but they were good and scared, and I had some pretty terrific hard-ons from them. But the hard-ons and the comes I had from the other ones, well, they were even better.
You just don't know what kind of a great kick it is to smash your fist against some miserable broad's jaw and show her what a man is really supposed to be like. Funny thing about hitting one of them. Just as soon as my fist lands in their face, I feel good all over.
Sometimes I feel so good after really whaling the tar out of one of them, that it don't matter much if I fuck them or not. But then it's like they're laying there, maybe wondering if I got the guts to fuck them after all, and maybe their faces are nice and bloody. So I just gotta fuck them. It's like my solemn duty, to save the reputation of real men all over the world. And you think that bitch of a mother would learn too.
Every time I go home after court, she starts the same shit with me all over again. Only it's worse each time. Because she gives me these sissy chores to do around the house, and carries on with shit like I'm supposed to be more like my sisters. And see what good girls they are, never in any trouble. Why can't I forget about the evils of the male sex, and try to behave like a good person, the way they do.
When she starts throwing that bullshit around is when I really flip out sometimes. Like the time I beat up on my probation officer. I should have been sent away for that one, but they let me free again, and I had to go back in her custody. There ain't no justice in this world. What kind of a stupid guy is that judge?