Through The Eyes of Insanity, Part One: Simon’s Beginnings
Through The Eyes of Insanity, Part One: Simon's Beginnings
I don't like the white rooms.
I don't like these people in white coats, in the white rooms, and I hate the man in the white coat sitting in the white chair, behind the white desk in front of me, in this white room.
I don't like this white coat. The one they make me wear because they don't think I should be able to use my arms. They never take it off, it just rests on my chest collecting dust in the white room, I've lost count of how many white rooms I've been in. Maybe they're all the same.
Why can't I have a white coat like theirs? They get to use their arms... Bastards...
The man behind the white desk is speaking to me, I don't think I really understand what he says. Wait, what was that last bit?
"What?"
I haven't spoken in a long time, but now I have reason, and with reason comes purpose.
The man pauses, and then repeats himself.
"I said, did your mother not hug you enough as a child?"
I pause, and blink...and blink....and blink...
Mommy.
He had mentioned mommy...
"Mommy hugged me..." I look the man right in the eyes, challenging him to speak a negative word about my mommy.
He smiles, he is happy I have spoken. After all, that's what he's here for isn't it? He wants me to speak.
"Tell me about your mother Simon, did you love mommy?" He has spoken again, I hear the words loud and clear.
"Of course I loved Mommy." I proclaim proudly. "I still do."
He raises an eyebrow, "Really? And does mommy love you back?" he has a pen and a notepad. It wasn't enough that they were recording everything that was being said. Throughout the hours and hours of silence from me as he blabbed on and on, this time I had spoken. They would be sure to note every last word.
"Of course she does, mommy has always loved me," I pause and tilt my head up in thought, my long hair swaying behind the chair at which I am sat. I shouldn't have let my hair grow out; it is unfashionable for a thirty seven year old male vulpine such as myself to grow his hair out. Mommy would be angry. "The people in the white coats that I talked to before said mommy loved me too much..."
"Mmmhmm... And what about daddy?" He looks up from his notepad.
I growl, I shouldn't have growled. As if my growling wasn't bad enough I start to shake uncontrollably; I am angry.
How can I not be angry? He had mentioned Frank! Why did he have to mention Frank!?
I scream and curse, I want him to die! This man is like all the others! He just wants to hurt me! I can't help myself, I swear I don't meant to, but I scream out and stand up "You're going to hurt me!"
More of the men in white coats come.
"Get a muzzle around him!" One of them cries to another.
I am muzzled and pain surges through my arm as a needle slides swiftly into my veins, I groan out as the pain of the medication entering my system climaxes then subsides. I become numb.
"Now Simon, be good and tell me about your mommy again."
I don't really know why at this point, or whether or not he can understand my slurred speaking, but I begin to tell him... To tell him about mommy...
***
"Simon!!" A shriek ran through my household and awoke me one morning. As usual I got up and got dressed, I wasn't very unlike other ten year olds at the time. My school was just different, that's all.
You see, mommy taught me. I always liked the lessons with mommy.
"Simon get downstairs for your lessons!" Mommy screamed. I liked it when she screamed; it made her seem so very strong.
I rushed downstairs, eager to begin our daily lessons. As always, I sat in the middle of the floor exactly three feet away from the television, with my back turned to it, of course, and ten feet from each wall. Precision was the key to a higher learning, mommy said.
Ah, and mommy was beautiful! A grand sight for any male to behold, to this day I'm not sure why daddy ever left her...
"That's my good boy, Simon!" She smiled down at me, she was naked, as she always was. She sat exactly two feet in front of me from my knee.
"Let's begin with Daddy; do you remember what I've told you about Daddy?"
I nodded, and recited her very words. "Daddy was a bad, bad man. He hurts people, and he can hurt me."
She smiled and giggled, she was proud that I remembered. "Very good, Simon! Now, do you remember what I've told you about people?"
I whimpered softly and nodded, reciting once again. "People are very, very bad. They'll leave me all alone like Daddy. They too will hurt me."
She grabbed my shoulders and planted a kiss on my lips, I was taught not to react to this, but I secretly liked it.
Mommy liked for me to hold very still when she kissed me, she liked that I breathed shallowly, and tried not to at all if I could help it. Most certain was that I was not to move at all. If I did, dire consequences would ensue.
I held as still as I could until she was through, leaning away from me and sitting upright again. I took a moment to reveal in her beauty.
She had red fur with white sock like patches on her paws and feet and on the very tips of her ears, her hair was long and messy. It made her look untamed, wild. I liked mommy's hair.
Her eyes were a deep blue, and her breasts were a modest size. Not too big, and not too small. I liked mommy's breasts.
"Now then Simon," She gave me a toothy grin. "What have I told you about mommy?"
I smiled and wagged my tail, this was my favorite part! "Mommy is beautiful and wise! Mommy will never leave me or hurt me!"
Again Mommy kissed me and she pushed me over. I was well trained enough to know not to make a sound when I fell over, even though it did hurt somewhat when my head hit the wood of the floor.
Mommy began to strip me of my clothes as she forced her tongue into my muzzle; I am not allowed to open my muzzle, or to close it. I must only let Mommy do as she pleases, I must not interfere.
As I lay there naked, my shaft become erect with the light caresses of my Mommy's paw, she compliments me on what a good boy I am as she strokes me. I knew not to murr, or make any reaction, but I must admit... It felt very good.
Mommy positioned herself above my length and though I couldn't move my eyes to see any more of her than I was at the moment, I could see a small bit of her breast above me.
She began to lower herself on my and I suppressed a gasp as her dripping hot passage engulfed my rod. I liked it very much when Mommy did these things, I do wish she had allowed me to move.
I began to breathe heavily, Mommy didn't notice only because of the fact that she too was panting. I was careful not to move too much, even though I can't help but twitch. I am getting close to the very good part.
Mommy was getting close too and she began to moan and tilt her head up in pleasure, it is only then, when her head was tilted, that I would steal a quick glance at her breasts. They bounced softly; I so badly longed to hold them in my paw. I often wondered what they would feel like...
Mommy moaned out loudly as the good part came to her, mine came too and she fell over on top of me, she nuzzled my neck and planted a flurry of soft kisses all over my muzzle. I would often wander if I would be punished for kissing back, but I dared not. I was too afraid of the punishment to even take the chance.
Afterwards the day proceeded as most days do, me relieving myself into my mothers muzzle when I had to pee, playing Russian Scrabble with Mommy. In case if you've never played Russian Scrabble, the rules are very simple. The game plays much like normal scrabble, but the loser must cut into his or her finger as deep as he or she can manage, exactly one quarter centimeter below the nail. I always let Mommy win.
Just normal things...
I remember on that day that mommy was doing the dishes, we didn't have running water, but it made me feel safe to know that mommy washed them anyway. Mommy could do things like that because she was special; I was so sure she could answer my question.
"Mommy?" I asked, and after being given permission to speak, I continued. "What was my Daddy's name?"
Mommy sighed and put a spoon in the sink, and dried her hands on a towel even though they weren't wet. "Your fathers name was Frank, why would you want to know that Simon?"
I shrugged and thought for a moment. Apparently, I took too long to think.
"Mommy doesn't like questions like that Simon, and now you must be punished." She said this in such a conversational way; she always did when she was getting ready to punish me.
She picked up a butter knife from the sink and sat on the floor. "Come now, lie on Mommy's lap." She beckoned, and I had obeyed. Mommy wouldn't punish me without good reason.
I laid flat on my stomach, legs stretched out ready for the punishment.
By then I had learned that butter knives didn't cut very well, and were extremely painful. Mommy only used these when she was exceptionally upset.
She set the cutting side of the blade to my right leg, three quarters of a foot from my hindquarters. "Are you ready, Simon?"
I nodded.
Now, I do not know whether or not you know the feeling of a butter knife being sawed into your leg, I have been told that not too many Mommy's were like mine, but I will tell you that it hurts. Bad.
She pulled back and pushed forward with the knife, always sure to be pushing down at the same time. I kicked and screamed in pain, but it only made the pain worse. The knife's rusted dull metal edge being driven into my leg. I began to bleed and cry out loudly, I begged Mommy to stop, but she did not. Mommy was very firm with her punishments.
Deeper and deeper it went until I was sure I could feel it scraping against my bone. Finally, when her paws were dripping softly of my own blood, she stopped.
Then she smiled and game my rump a small pat. "Get up and Mommy will go get a band-aid for you."
I sniffed and did as she said, very heavily leaning on my left leg, trying not to put any weight on the leg filled with pain, it was still bleeding.
Mom soon returned with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some tissue and tape to use as a makeshift band-aid.
Mommy's punishments always made me feel so lightheaded. The next part wasn't punishment for anything, but it hurt just as bad. She poured a bit of the rubbing alcohol onto a bit of tissue and rubbed it on the deep cut she had made. It burned hot as fire and hurt like the devil, but I bared through it until Mommy was done and had taped a bit of tissue over the cut to keep it from bleeding.
"Thank you Mom-" I was cut off as my Mommy gasped, through the window I could see a car pulling up into the drive way. It was a red Chevrolet of some sort...
"Simon! Run, run and hide!"
I did as she said. I remember being very, very scared, but I still obeyed Mommy.
I ran upstairs, putting as little pressure on my right leg as I could manage, and as soon as I entered my room I began to look around. I had never had much, but I did have an empty toy chest. I jumped inside of it and closed the lid.
I heard Mommy screaming, I couldn't make out what she was saying. Usually I liked it when Mommy screamed, but not now... No, not now. There were people here, and they would hurt me. Mommy was trying to protect me. I just know she was...
***
I pause my story, looking at the man in front of me. His pen pauses in time with my talking. It is he that speaks first, "Is that all? Do you remember anything else about your mother?"
Of course there is more I remember, but it was nothing of any importance to him. "No."
He looks at the white clock on the white wall and looks back to me. "Our time is up for the day, I'll talk to you tomorrow and we'll see if there's anything else you want to talk about."
I stay seated as he stands up, pushes his chair in and leaves the room, not long after three guards come in to escort me back to my cell. To of them grab my shoulders and the other stays behind me, I am not sure why.
The two on my shoulders pull up, and following their lead, I get up out of the chair. The guard behind me closes the door as we walk out of it. A short walk down the hallway, I see many doors on both sides of me, a small plastic window on each door.
They are plastic to keep from shattering. It is to my knowledge that they are also sound proof, and padded. I should know I live in one.
The guard that was behind me walks around to the front and unlocks the door to my cell as we arrive to it. I am forcibly pushed into it, and the door is swiftly locked behind me.
I look around. I have a bed, the frame made of plastic. There isn't much else; aside from a button I can press to alert one of the guards that I need to use the bathroom.
I never sleep on the bed, and I regrettably push the button when I need to.
I sit myself down in the center of the room, seven and a half feet from each wall, and think.
Should I tell the man more? Would it hold any consequences to me? What would Mommy say if she knew that I had said what I did?
I continue to think until I tire; when I wake I will talk to the man again. Every day is set to this pattern, everything always the same. I look around one last time before I fall asleep.
I don't like the white rooms.
To Be Continued,
Proffesor Kool Kat