"Abuse is the means in which violence retards love."
--Inga Muscio
CHAPTER ONE: How Complex is Oedipus Complex?
Jake was kind of a normal kid with kind of a normal life. He lived in the suburbs, didn't have a lot of friends, and after COVID-19 had hit the already strained relationship he had with them was fatally put to the test. He still occasionally talked to people, but... it just wasn't the same. Due to that fact, he slowly started going outside less and less, because "there wasn't anything to do out there". Really, it was because he wanted to run and run and run away from all those people and things, and never look back. He wanted to sink in the ground and die.
He was too much of a coward to kill himself after all of the loneliness. He came close a few times, when he couldn't bear it anymore. But for Christ's sake, he had just turned 18! His life was starting anew! But then the ugly thoughts would start coming in again, about how he still didn't have a job, didn't have any sort of tangible relationship with any other human, didn't even have a girlfriend, hell, he never even touched a girl before, and all he could do to battle these thoughts were to watch YouTube or TikTok or...
Or Porn. It started off as a thing he would only occasionally do, before the pandemic had hit. Yet once that isolation kicked in and destroyed his life, well, that's when it began to become an addiction. His interests started off as relatively normal - he just scrolled and watched what was recommended to him. But when he started to realize that there was an infinite landscape, a world only defined by rule 34, he started exploring. And if he had to trace it back, that was probably where it all ended. His sanity, his chance at being something important.
He started watching porn centering on trans people. Not bad, not bad at all - maybe he just had different interests, that kind of thing didn't matter. But then it escalated. He started masturbating to porn about older women, which was strange, but still not... amoral? Was that the word? He guessed not, since the entire idea of porn was kind of amoral.
But then he went into stepmom porn. It wasn't like he was attracted to his own mom, it was just... that idea. That taboo idea, that existed only because it shouldn't.
This went on for far too long. It started off as stepmom sex, then just biological mom sex, then mom rape, then actual videos of real mothers fucking real sons. He went down that rabbit hole, and once he went down, he couldn't come back. He fucked himself silly to that kind of stuff, and it sucked. All of it sucked.
Then one day the worst of all worlds happened. His mother had gotten suspicious, he had left his computer open, his history undeleted (he had went to the bathroom to clean the cum off his underwear for what felt like the millionth time), and that's when she saw. She saw all of it. The sex, the rape, the fantasies, all of it.
She had screamed at him, in horror and disbelief. He had counterargued in total desperation that it was just because it was an easier way to look at older women, but she both didn't believe him and didn't care. She stormed out of that room, and went for a drive. Jake was left alone in that empty house.
But he didn't stop there. What was the most ironic part? A few hours later, his horniness overcame him and he looked it up again. After jerking off to some more stepmom porn, he cried after his climax. Cried and cried and cried. He texted his mom to forgive him, please to just forgive him.
He fell asleep like that. Naked, cum dripping off his now flaccid dick, his laptop still open with porn video after porn video autoplaying, grown women crying out in fake ectsasy as they faked sluttery.
His mom saw him like this, and didn't even care. She closed his bedroom door. She went to her own bedroom. She didn't shed a single tear, she just went to sleep. All she could feel towards him was hatred.
A few days later, she couldn't take it anymore and told Jake that he couldn't live there anymore. He was 18, he had been for a few months. He didn't have any money, but he could easily make some money. He wished he had a father so he could take it up with him, but alas it was just her. Just his mom.
After leaving with a backpack filled with clothes and not much else (she had smashed his laptop on the kitchen counter - bits and pieces sprayed everywhere), he tried to get a job. After an unsuccessful day, he decided he could only sleep on a park bench. But after scouring the nearest parks, after walking for miles upon miles, the only park benches were "homeless proof"; he couldn't sleep on them because of the seat-like structure, and he couldn't sleep under since there was no "under".
He slept in an alley, next to a verile and stinky garbage dumpster that night. He slept in that same alley almost every night. He grew some crazy facial hair; he eventually looked years older than he had originally. Begging for money didn't do him wonders - he gained, maybe if he was lucky, about eight dollars per day.
He didn't have the motivation to save up, so he spent the money on food and cheap things. His life was an empty shell, an emptier shell than it had ever been. If he was a more motivated man, this would've been his redemption story. Instead, it was just his further downfall.
Eventually, his mother found him months later and tried to forgive him. But he felt so much shame that he ran off; the authorities couldn't do anything, he was his own person.
A year and a half later, he went into the forest never to be found again. There were no legends, there were no myths, because nobody cared.
