Chapter 7

Things were quiet for the next few weeks, while the awkwardness in the family faded. When I wasn’t at physical therapy, I was at home. I didn’t talk to anyone outside of my family and the clinic staff. I figured that my sexual fugues must be triggered by something, but I hadn’t figured out what it was yet.

One day, Lucas told me he was planning on inviting a friend over. “That isn’t going to be a problem, is it?” He asked.

“It won’t be,” I replied earnestly. “I promise.” I never left my room the whole time. I didn’t even know which friend it was.

One day my dad invited me to go on a road trip with him. He had a business meeting coming up in San Francisco with an engineering firm. I had talked about being interested in an engineering career in the past - even though I didn’t really know anything about it - so my dad arranged for a tour of the office to get a feel for things. The best part was that my favorite band was playing a concert that night, and he said we’d go.

The drive to San Francisco was a lot of fun. Dad and I talked like we hadn’t in a long time. We talked about his work, and my physical therapy. I asked lots of questions about the rules of driving, in anticipation of getting my learner’s permit in a few months. He told me some of what an engineer does, day to day, but his knowledge was limited - Dad’s a lawyer, but he works with a lot of engineers. We even got a little personal when he asked me which Avenger I thought was cutest.

“Well, Captain America is certainly cutest,” I said, thinking it through for the first time. “But Thor is sexiest. Bruce Banner is the one I would want to date, though. He’s smart and humble and kind. He reminds me of you ... well, when he’s not hulking-out, of course.” I swear I didn’t mean it in a sick Freudian way. Dad chuckled.

A junior engineer named Amy showed me around the shop while my dad was in his meeting. There were tons of cubicles with computers and graph paper, and white boards full of math I didn’t know yet. They had a gigantic printer painstakingly generating diagrams the size of bed sheets. They even had a metal shop with all sorts of cool machines, and a room where they set things on fire. They made me put on goggles and promise not to touch anything.

We went back to the motel to change before the concert. I had worn business attire to the office - or at least as close to it as my wardrobe allowed - but I wanted something more free and festive for the show. I had just gotten out of the shower, with a towel wrapped around me, when Dad got back with the lattes. Dad opened up his laptop and started writing an email while the smell of vanilla from the drinks invaded my mind. I panicked when I felt the first stirrings of my compulsion, but I told myself that this time would be different: I had been through it before, I knew what to expect, and I could conquer it with willpower.

The feeling grew stronger - I was losing the battle. I clenched my legs together and pushed my hands against my crotch, as if I could somehow hold the demon in. Finally I lost control and started walking briskly toward the door, off to find some traveler or hobo - anything with a cock.

My dad rolled on his chair in front of my path. “Katie, what are you doing? You can’t go out like that.” He sounded amused.

“I’ll be real quick,” I said anxiously. “You won’t even know I’m gone.”

Dad picked up on my distress. He stood and put his hands on my shoulders, and spoke with a serious tone of voice: “Kaitlyn, what’s wrong?”

I couldn’t look at his face - only the door. He was holding me, and standing between the door and me; there was no way that he would let me out. Dread overtook me as I gave in to the only gambit left available to me.

“Kaitlyn?”

“You think I’m pretty, right Daddy?” My voice was still shaking.

“Of course I do, sweetheart!”

“And if we were the same age - if we met at school or something - you would want to have sex with me, right?”

“I would loved to have dated a girl like you! You’re so beautiful, and you have so many wonderful qualities.”

“But you would have FUCKED me, RIGHT?” I said, almost shouting.

“Well, yes. I mean if things were...” he started to say.

“Then do it now!” I said, as I dropped my towel. I rubbed my boobs with my hands, like the girls in pornos do, trying to seduce my father. “Please, Daddy, fuck me. I NEED you to!” He was stunned for a moment, but when I reached for his belt buckle, he took action. He forced me onto the bed, wrapped me up in a blanket, and then sat behind me holding me tightly so that I couldn’t move.

“It’s going to be okay, angel,” my dad assured me.

I was in agony for, I’m guessing, hours. My primal brain wouldn’t stop prodding me, as if to say, “You must have sex; you must find a way. Your life depends on it.” I couldn’t explain what was going on in my head. The closest I came was futile bargaining: “Please, Dad, you HAVE to - you don’t know what this is like!” and “I’m going to DIE!” Eventually I stopped talking and just sobbed. Dad never let go; he just sang me a song from my childhood, over and over.