Trigger warning what follows is about my abuse as a young, little boy. It is a painful memory that I have that may hurt others reading it.
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When I was little like 4 to 6 / 7 yrs old one of the things done to me by both the hell spawn siblings to cause me pain and make me compliant and by my adult AF (adoptive father) to make me more compliant was … using rubbing alcohol on my butt and little boy parts. Ok I have danced around it, I guess I have to explain.
I would be grabbed by the hell spawn when no one was around. It took at least two or three to do this. They would strip me of my clothing, knowing what was coming I tried to resist which really they liked because it showed how much more powerful they were than me. They would force me face down, with one / more holding my upper body down, and another pinning my legs down.
Trigger warning, last chance to bail on this, I sure wish I could, but this has been hitting me day and night so I have to get it out.
Once they had me pinned down, they would pry my clenched butt cheeks open. I would struggle to hold them closed with everything I had … but I always lost. Once they had my butt cheeks spread open, they would pour rubbing alcohol down my butt crack, letting it flow over my stretched butthole and over my tinny scrotum / little penis. I would cry, thrash, beg, … and it burned so bad. Often the hell spawn siblings would stop there unless one of them wanted to punish me more or one of the males wanted to prove a point. The adoptive father would do this sometimes if I did not willingly give him what he wanted. They / he would put his finger in rubbing alcohol and then rub it on my anus, my butt hole, then resoak their finger and jam it into me. I soon learned that when it was threatened to be a good and submit with no fight, to be the submissive fuck … doll, fleshlight, what ever, be the warm body they needed to come in, to humiliate. The memories hurt, but not as much as the pain of having rubbing alcohol poured over my anus, little balls and on my tiny penis. Or forced roughly into my sore asshole. I learned to not fight, to give in quickly and often. It was bad enough to have a penis, a dick thrust into me at that age with no lube and little prep, but to have such a painful substance put on it first … it was horrible.
This is the memory that has been disturbing my sleep and upsetting me during the day. Thank you for letting me express it, to try to get it out of my system. Hugs. Scottie
Scottie's Playtime 
I’m so sorry Scottie. I cannot even comprehend such cruelty. You are strong and courageous.
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Thank you Susan. The hard part was unlearning the anger and hate that I lived around for 17 years. The meanness, the petty need to win over others at all times. I swore to myself I would never be like them, I would never be what they wanted me to be. I would never be them. Hugs.
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I was here, and read this. I cannot make myself click the like button, not because it’s a bad post, just because I know it’s real. You know I click like on much that I detest, but I can’t here. I’m soo glad you are able to let it out here, with no worries about us reading it and being here for you, virtually. And we are.
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Hello Ali. I understand. I do worry when I post stuff about my abuse here. Not for me or how people might think about me, but about how it might affect them. Most people are not desensitized to it because they did not spend years living it. It can trigger caring kind people, it can cause them pain and anguish. It can hurt them. I don’t want to hurt others. But it is what I lived through, and it does help to get it out, being able to say it removes the stigma and power it has over me still. I take back the power it had over me to hurt me in my memories. Thank you for caring, and being a caring person. Hugs. Scottie
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I was here, too, Scottie. Ali said it well and I agree with her on this.
My hope is that sharing this memory reduces its hold on you.
X hugs X
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Hi MDavis. As I told Ali, it does. It takes a lot of the power the memories have over me. I am not a 4,5,6-year-old, and I can fight back. I don’t have to just be overwhelmed and submit. Also I have a wonderful supportive community that when these memories and more start to overwhelm me I can look to for help, for a lifeline, for a rope or handles to help me out of those places.
Friend though I do worry about burdening others, my readers, people like you, Ali, Susan, and the several hundreds that read but don’t comment. I don’t want to hurt you, any of you. I don’t want to cause you the nightmares or shit I have. But fears shared, a burden shared is a burden lightened. Right. That is the saying?
I struggle with the balance. There is so much more I want to share, things that make me scream at night or make me fear to go to sleep. But … What right do I have to put that burden on others? To cause my wonderful readers to feel even part of the pain I suffered for 17 years.
For example, I was raped by three people as an adult 19–20 year old soldier in the army. One of them multiple times until I went to a male senior sergeant and became his boyfriend to stop it. Those memories are very painful to me and I have shared them on the Male Survivors site I belong to.
But do I have a right to share them here. What if there are other rape victims here, that follow this blog? How will it hurt them? Will it help me, yes, yes, yes, … it is a secret I have carried for what 40 years? I still remember them, I still have nightmares of them. But again do I have the right to share them here where grand people like you, Ali, Susan, Roger, and so many others will be hit with it dead on? I struggle with that.
Sorry MDavis, you did not deserve this. Two of my rapes have been really upsetting me lately, and the question is always … why me.
Anyway thank you., thank you for reading, thank you greatly for commenting, and thank you more than I can say for caring for me, something my adoptive family never seemed to do. Hugs, Scottie
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