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Adam Stanheight was the farthest thing from normal.
It surely wasn't normal to be attracted to the thing that ruined his life, to crave it, to fantasize about it, but he did. To have control over something he hadn't had control over before, it sounded like bliss, a bliss he's never felt in his life. The only exposure he had to sex was rape, plain and simple. After a while, it clicked in his brain like a magnet, and it was decided that it was 'safe' and 'familiar'. His mind latched onto that, onto the idea that was what sex was supposed to feel like. It was the familiarity to that kind of 'sex' that really made him continue wanting it, he's never known anything different. It truly was disgusting, but it was his own filth, and may he continue to bathe in it for the rest of his life.
To an extent, he still remembers the first time it had happened. He was far too young to form a coherent memory, but bits and pieces were there. It was his own father. His own flesh and blood, the man who was supposed to take care of him. His father had raped the child he made, made up of his own DNA. He raped his own baby girl boy. He only remembers the feeling of the touches, and it's daily that he actually feels the touches all over again. Logically, he knows it's not actually happening, but that doesn't stop him from freaking out over it. Covering his whole body with a ridiculous amount of clothes, sometimes even hopping in the shower and scrubbing until his body bleeds, convincing himself that he is 'coming clean'. But, he never really feels clean, does he? He's felt dirty for as long as he can remember, he doesn't think he'll ever get clean. But he will try, he'll never stop trying. Everytime he remembers those fucking touches, he feels even more dirty than he had before. He doesn't remember everything that happened, but he remembers the feeling, he remembers those damn hands tainting him in whatever filth they were covered him. He feels those fucking hands on his neck, on his chest, on his - no. He doesn't want to think about that. He just feels dirty, he always will. He will never get clean, he knows that much.
Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he wants it to happen again. He wants his dad back, no matter what it entailed. His father left, not long after he did that to his own son, as if that was all he wanted from Adam. And, in some sick way, Adam just wants him back. He wants him to touch him again, it's truly disgusting, but, atleast his father loved him, right? He knew he wasn't good for much else other than bring some object of desire, a doll on a shelf to be thrown around and played with, and he knew that's all he could be in order to be loved. He fantasizes about his dad doing that to him. He fucking gets off on it, because, subconsciously, he takes it as normal. He takes it as familiar. He takes it as safe. Logically, he knew how fucking wrong it is. How disgusting it is. But his brain can't seem to grasp that. For a long while, as a teenager, he found himself attracted to older male family members, sometimes, step parents, step siblings or other forms of not being blood related, other times, blood related. He was conditioned to believe that was a normal thing to do. He knew it was wrong, but he really, really could not help himself. He especially latched onto his uncle. He never acted on those terrible thoughts, but he thought about them, all the time. His dad ruined him, ruined his perception of what's wrong and what's right. God, he was so fucked up in the head. He hated it. He hated his dad, but, oh, how he loved his dad.
It got to a point that when he was thirteen, he started purposely seeking out older men, they ranged from eighteen to somewhere in their fifties. They got whatever they wanted from him, he did whatever they wanted, just to feel loved, just to feel wanted. Even if the things they made him do hurt, he did it. Even if what they made him do made him bleed, he did it. None of those men ever actually did anything to him themselves, simply just made him touch himself so they could watch and get off. They made him shove inanimate objects inside of himself. Obviously, he wasn't used to having things so.. big up there, and he bled. He was bleeding everyday for one fucking month until he got used to what they made him do to himself. And those men.. They'd praise him for it. 'Good boy", 'You're doing so well', 'You're so pretty like this', 'Your whines are so cute'. It was truly sickening, but he felt a sense of pride at them. He's never felt so wanted in his life. He knew he was being used, used for these sick men's fantasies, but he couldn't help but feel so happy about it. He felt so disgusting after, but he still ran right back to those men. He was attached, he needed those men. He didn't know what to do without them. They liked to make him slap himself in various areas of his body, they found it oh so arousing. The fact he could make so many people feel so good, he was so pleased with himself.. He truly was a freak of nature, wasn't he?
Thus comes his consensual non-consent kink. It was familiar. Safe. It's to a point he wants his abusers back, just because in a fucked up way, he felt loved. He felt wanted. He got off on it sometimes. And it was weird, because other times, he cries over it. He really doesn't know what he feels. Sometimes he wants it to happen again, other times he'd rather die than have it happen again. Sometimes, he can't even handle touch during those dreaded flashbacks. Other times, he'd be acting like an object of desire, somd kind of sex doll. He knows he shouldn't want it. But he does. Sometimes he just wants control over it for once in his life, to be able to have a safeword he could use whenever he felt uncomfortable. He honestly hated himself, hated himself for being attracted to the thing that ruined him, broke him down completely. But he supposes this is just another example of how badly it ruined him. Back then, when everything was still happening, when he had recovered the blurry memories of his father, he felt so tiny. Like a frog in some kids science class, being cut open, being inspected. He felt like some attraction at a freak show. He always said he felt fantastic, but he was being slowly broken down, being broken down and turned into someone who truly does belong in a freak show. He constantly felt like he was strapped down to a bed, being stabbed with needles infront of everyone he's ever met. He felt ruined. He was ruined. He felt like a dirty little thing, like he could never get clean. He wanted everything to end. He just wanted to be fixed, to be somewhat normal,
but he knew he couldn't ever return to how he once was.