Warning: Don't read this if all you want is the T&A, the hard fuck, the cum-shot. This story will disappoint you.
This story takes place in the Perfect Beginning Universe. It makes brief mention of Michele's work.
For me, first time is always the most exciting. Compounding the excitement is the anxiety when at least one character realizes that they are not the person they thought they were.
This story takes place in a very male dominant society, one which is even more patriarchal than our own. Pete comes to realize that as he falls under Allison's spell, he does not measure up to societal expectations. These two young people are discovering and becoming as they grow together as a couple.
Psychological conflict and tension are central themes in this story.
*
The following is an outline of how this society operates. The Perfect Beginning provides a slightly more comprehensive description of the universe.
* People are legal adults at 18 years of age.
* People usually live to about 2,000 years of age.
* The cultural norm has almost all legal adults living with their family of origin until they turn 200 years old.
* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 are treated as and referred to as children when they choose to continue living with their parents.
* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 often behave much as we would expect teenagers to behave here in our world. They are kept in a state of arrested emotional development.
* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 years customarily consume "blockers" which prevent them from having sexual feelings or impulses.
* Some young people will begin to "date" around 160 yers of age and while they are expected to continue to take their blockers, some will surreptitiously stop taking them while a few will stop responding to them.
* Age and masculinity are revered in this world. Everybody looks up to their elders and few seriously question the patriarchy.
All characters in the story are over 18 years of age.
It is customary for those below the age of 200 to demonstrate their status by wearing clothing which signify to others that they are off limits. They would wear what we would think of as children's clothing. Remember, an 18 year old and a 1,900 year old would look exactly the same age, so children's clothes are very useful for signaling to those over 200 years to abstain from any romantic or sexual pursuit of another who was deemed of an inappropriate age.
Lastly, sex is not technically illegal for people between the ages of 18 and 200 years. It is considered profoundly taboo. Adult-children (18+) do have sex but it is kept very quiet. Some parents punish their children for engaging in this sinful pleasure and adult-children almost never tell-on one another in this regard, even those who might not like one another. Adult children live by a code and violation of said code subjects one to complete ostracization. Almost none experiment until they are well over 160 years old.
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She did think of him for scattered moments. There was no dwelling. Allison would never dwell on any question concerning a boy. She thought of him in passing...briefly. She did not miss him though she'd not seen him in several days. She appreciated his absence because she understood it.
He was struggling. She had a way of feeling it from a distance. She could almost smell his fear and this only aroused her. Too, she sensed his desperation. His desperation for her was what stoked his fear, after all. Change was scary and he was in the throes.
Would he escape? The question put a smile on her face as she imagined him discovering a sink hole had opened beneath him. There he was clinging to the bare ground with more than half his body hanging over the chasm. His torso was draped over the flat ground but so much weight was already pulling him down. His eyes were large and shocked terror contorted his pretty face as he grasped at...
Poor boy, there is nothing at all to grab onto. Hold on, little boy!
Who could help him in a world that denied even the possibility of what was taking over his life? Certainly he should be scared and Allison savored that imagined fear. She wondered what it would taste like. She knew well what it felt like. Where was his support in a world where men were supposed to have all the answers?
Little boy's all alone. Poor baby.
She was delighted by his plight.
He kept reaching out for the handhold that was not there. He strained. There he hung with some great portion of his soul already in the hole.
He was not broken but that was a good thing. This was the fun for her. He was several blocks away and she knew he was fighting for his life. She wore a confident, contented smile as she walked toward her tennis match.
*
Peter was a mess.
Once home, he felt a smoldering anger. Within an hour it was a wind swept rage. He was in dire need of his rage as it gave him that hit of potency he was so desperate for.
Fucking bitch!
And for a short while, it worked. His rage filled and fulfilled him. His fury almost felt like a relief. Yet his hatred proved a self serving distraction which soon peaked and burned out. He simmered down and found he wanted to hate her.
But I was the one who cried.
He felt so terribly alone as he had nobody to talk to. He went online to look at some sports sites he sometimes enjoyed in an effort not to think about what he'd been through but that was simply not possible. Content went from ideas to words to nonsense as he could not concentrate.
And then there was Allison.
He lay in bed but that was no help as he took his thoughts with him. Soon he was hard and did what a hypersexual was supposed to do and got himself off... thinking of her.
He could make no sense of what he'd been through. He next told himself it was something that had happened to him. This was not his fault. He was a survivor of a natural disaster and he was alone coping with all the wreckage strew about him. There was the sense that his life had been destroyed but it was not his fault.
And then he'd think about her.
How could he not? He was a hypersexual and physical desire was so very amplified by his biology. That too was not his fault.
Not like I did that to myself.
The fuck of it was that while he got himself off, all he could do was think about her. It was horrible.
For years he enjoyed all manner of pornographic images that on some level supported the patriarchy. It was all run of the mill, young man fantasy images of sexually needy beauties. He supplied the fantasies. All these scenes climaxed with his sexual satisfaction.
Often it was the simple internet image of one of his schoolmates adopted and transformed by his imagination into dick sucking satisfaction.
*
She'd video taped everything.
And she'd watched them.
The first time she watched them was with her Mother, Carol. They watched them together in the living room as though watching a favorite TV show. They beamed with happiness and laughed at all the funny parts. Together they cooed in a strange amalgam of affection and humor as they admired his crying. It was fun to relive the fun Allison was having with the new boy on the TV. It was delightful fun and games.
As always in regard to the matter of boys, Carol admired her daughter. She loved how at ease her little girl was when it came to managing them. At times she felt bewildered by Allison's whole way of being with a boy. To begin with, she looked like a little girl. With what Carol could only think of as a long, lean, "sixteen year" old...
...if that.
...body, a body she'd have for the rest of her life, her long pigtails, knee socks and pleated skirt, Allison appeared as a girl. And she sounded like a girl... sort of. Allison had mastered a voice, a complete affect, that was both specific and polished. All of it felt genuine to her after embracing this manner for so long. She'd perfected the tone and temperament of the young girl who naturally projected as a stern, conservative mother. And she had always been so very mature. Always. She'd always seemed two oppositional things at the same time.
She looked like and and sounded like a girl, how she handled him was all woman...
...or at least big-girl.
She was so effective at regressing a boy, turning him into a love struck pre-teen, that she seemed so comparatively mature. She looked like an all business, fourteen to sixteen year old babysitter managing her very eager to obey, young ward. It always tickled her. Often she reminded Carol of that actress Ann Hathway. She was the quintessential little Ms. precocious, mature teenager.
So delicate. So focused. Look at her work that poor boy. Love that girl of mine.
