Saturday, November 12, 2016

Digital Indoctrination I

 New story. We'll see how far I take it on the blog.

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Digital Indoctrination

Copyright 2016

by Chris Bellows

Lying supine in seemingly endless nothingness, there comes the insatiable yearning to bring the dark soundless world to an end. My mind envisions things, hallucinates... taking my psyche to other places, other times. It helps, the frustration temporarily assuaged. But what I really pine for is my therapist and the press of her finger. Such alights the goggles of the virtual reality headset enshrouding my head. In so doing she will take me to another world... one of her choosing. Her simple deed both invigorates... such vivid sights... such virtual sounds... yet also frightens. Into what I will be immersed I have no control. I am helpless.

Yes, strapped in place, my nakedness long not seen, with each digital journey comes an odd sense of things happening to me. Though it feels as if my head has been severed there come sensations. Someone is doing something to me... ankles... arms... pubes. I am washed... at least it feels like I am on occasion washed. And there are of course bodily functions which cannot be forever denied. I poop. I pee.

Yes at this point, many countless days into my therapy, I just go, releasing bladder and bowels upon the slightest urge, returned to infancy in terms of going potty, knowing that someone at some point will cleanse.

It must near time for the next burst of colors and bold sounds to break the monotony!

I try to convince myself. But, having no conception of time, it is a futile guess. So, when not made to view an array of videos, my mind occupies itself with thoughts. Though intended to ameliorate, I instead bring heightened frustration. Alas, the words of the judge reverberate, her stern look bringing renewed trepidation as she peers down from the bench...

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“These are serious charges, Mr. Ross. No reason not to go before a jury. Motion to dismiss denied!”

No surprise, my attorney apprizing me well in advance that dismissal was a long shot. But then comes a surprise indeed. And from the prosecutor of all sources.

“Your Honor, may it please the court, the complainant... ah... the victim... has in consultation with her mother offered to drop the charges if the defendant agrees to undergo appropriate counseling.”

‘Such a MILF!’ has always been my reaction in gazing at the professionally attired counsel for the state... tight skirt and high heels always distracting. But she annoys... such a condescension to the press and public relations in interchanging the terms ‘complainant’ and ‘victim’. She’s my stepdaughter, the so termed ‘victim’ a vixen, setting me up in knowing my... my... condition.

“Despite the nature of the crime, the court is obligated to assess any arrangement to avoid the cost of trial... particularly if such is agreeable to the complainant,” her Honor pontificates.     

“Special counseling, your Honor. A program recently developed for sex offenders. Well past the experimental stage and the results have been promising. If the defendant agrees to undergo, the state will suspend the charges pending later evaluation.”

With that the MILF prosecutor approaches the bench and offers a thick folder. Such brings concern, my fate bandied about between termagant judge and ball busting prosecutor, the nature of this proffered counseling unknown. Adding to the concern is knowing that my wife... estranged wife... has had input into this curious turn of events. She remains enraged.... understandably enraged... the assault on her daughter’s virtue considered a defacto assault on her own.

“The Mills Institute... very reputable,” the judge notes as her eyes quickly scan various pages. “There is better use of court’s time, however. If defendant Ross cedes to such counseling, the court will agree to the suspension of adjudication,” her Honor returning the packet and nodding for it to be presented to the defendant’s table.     

I feel doomed. Yet after denying the prosecutor’s offer of one year prison time and registration as a sex offender, it seems that with this latest offer the hazards of litigation and eventual incarceration are to be avoided. That heartens... somewhat... my wife’s involvement bringing ongoing concern.  

“We’ll need time to evaluate, your Honor,” my attorney’s intercession coming across as meek.

“Two hours should be enough,” the judge’s reputation for rocket docket determinations evident. “Use the counsel’s chambers. One way or the other, this matter is to be off my agenda,” the directive coming with a slam of her gavel.

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