So it’s been a while since I’ve been active at Virped or since I’ve even touched this blog. Sorry it’s been so long and sorry I’m so seldom around. Just so everyone knows, I do not forget about Virped or the anti-contact MAP community at large when I’m away. These places are always in my thoughts and I always feel a twinge of guilt when I’ve neglected to visit them for so long. Virped in particular is my home. My fellow anti-contact MAPs are my people. It is the one place on the planet I feel like I really and truly belong.

The problem is, my life has been so busy over the last couple of years that I have trouble finding the time to even slow down and breathe. When I finally do find that time, all I want to do is disconnect and decompress. I do not want to think about things that are important, which Virped and the anti-contact MAP community are. It’s like my life has become this whirlwind blizzard and my involvement with the anti-contact MAP community is one of the things that just winds up getting buried in the snow. Every once in a while I’ll decide to dig it out, and I’ll look at it and remember how important it is to me. I’ll tell myself I’m not going to let it get buried again but, before long, it does.

Anyway, so things with me are going, meh, ok I guess. Financially I’m doing as well as I ever have in my adult life. I still love my little condo in the city that I bought almost two years ago. I have two sources of income that are both considered “essential” and I’ve been working my balls off right through all this madness while everyone else is in quarantine. I’m not getting rich or anything by a long shot, but I’m on top of things. I keep my mortgage and my bills paid and I’m finally out of debt completely. I’m sticking to my fitness routine, staying in shape, staying on top of all my non work-related personal responsibilities, etc. All that. Still, at the end of the day, to be perfectly honest, I’m still not a happy person. Not at all. In fact, a lot of the time I’m barely keeping it together.

No matter what happens, no matter how I manage to improve my life, there’s always this emptiness. This feeling like everything is completely fucking pointless. At the risk of being cliche, I’m like that rat on the wheel that just keeps running and running and running for no fucking apparent reason. Sure, through all that “running” I’ve managed to make a little life for myself that I didn’t think would ever be possible just a few years ago but much of the time I still find myself filled with the same over-all sense of despair. That same sense of feeling spiritually lost and dead on the inside. Especially in the mornings. God, waking up in the fucking morning. Ugh. But then, I pour an energy drink down my throat, will myself into my car, and it’s back to running. If I just keep moving, maybe I can keep a little bit ahead of the despair. Maybe I can keep it from catching up with me. But then, it always does anyway.

Maybe I’m just not supposed to be a happy person. Not all of this has to do with being a MAP but a lot of it does, I think. I look at the world around me and I simply do not belong in it. I see all these fucking “normal” people who are married with kids and all that jazz and that world, that “normal” world in which most people exist, is just so completely alien to me. In that, my isolation feels pretty complete. Even an introvert like me can feel too much isolation, I think. Sure I have people I’m out to in real life but they don’t really understand. I dunno. Sometimes I think I could win the Powerball lottery and find myself with everything I’ve ever wanted and, when all was said and done, I’d still be a miserable fuck at the end of the day. Maybe it’s just how I’m wired. (sigh)

Thank god for booze at least. I’d definitely blow my fucking brains out if I didn’t have that to take the edge off.

Other than all that, things are great. LOL! Hope everyone else is doing well, or at least as well as can be expected. Sometimes as well as can be expected is the best we can hope for, isn’t it?

Brett

The post The Whirlwind appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.

Although I haven’t been around here much of late, I do still keep in touch with a few other MAPs and also a MAP advocate who lives relatively near by. There is one particular MAP that lives here in Atlanta who is a fairly prominent MAP figure but I can’t say who he is because I don’t think he wants the world to know where he lives. The MAP advocate I’m speaking of is Rusty, who some of you may be familiar with from Twitter.

So earlier this year I heard that the 2019 ATSA (The Association for the Treatment of Sexual Abusers) conference was going to be here in November. When I got wind of that, I was immediately excited about who it might give me the opportunity to meet. I let my MAP friend and also Rusty know about it and we all agreed that we should make plans to try to attend in some capacity if we could.

Over the last few weeks, this other MAP and I arranged to meet up with Dr Elizabeth Letourneau and also Candice Christiansen from the Global Prevention Project on Friday 11/8. I got approved to take the day off work and everything was set. We were to meet with Dr Letourneau in the morning at 10:00 AM and then Candice later in the afternoon. I figured we’d have several hours of downtime in between and would just have to find things to do in Downtown Atlanta or maybe wind up coming back to my apartment for a while. That’s not how it worked out.

We did meet up with Dr Letourneau at 10:00 and talked with her for about an hour. She is an amazing lady and she’s done and is still doing some very important work that can and I think will both prevent sexual abuse and also improve the lives of MAPs in general. The sad and frustrating thing is that she told us they have trouble securing funding for a lot of the work they’re trying to do, but it was exciting to hear about none the less. Dr Letourneau had to leave town that afternoon, so we had to end our conversation after about an hour so that she could go check out of the hotel.

A short while after we said goodbye to Dr. Letourneau, I got a message from Candice saying she wanted to go ahead and meet up with us. So, we met her in the hotel lobby and she led us downstairs to where the conference was being held. I didn’t think we’d be allowed in not having paid for passes but be we were. There were areas of the conference we couldn’t go into and workshops we could not attend but the main conference floor was open to just anyone. We wound up spending most of the day with Candice and got to be introduced to a number of very important people in the field. Dr Craig Harper, Dr Gilian Tenbergen, Dr Theresa Robertson, Mike from NARSOL/The Registry Report, Jeremy from Prostasia (who we went to lunch with), and a few more I’m probably forgetting or who’s name’s I may not have gotten.

I can’t tell you guys how liberating it was to just walk around in a public place and introduce myself as an open MAP. The whole day was like an overwhelming whirl-wind, but in a very good way. We didn’t wind up having to find things to do to kill time at all, because we pretty much spent the whole day at the conference meeting people, shaking hands, etc, usually with Candice at our side. I had already been excited about meeting Dr. Letourneau and Candice but if I’d know how the day was going to turn out, I would have been way more excited about it. I mean, I thought we were going to meet a couple of people for maybe an hour at a time and spend the interim hours at the Aquarium or something. I had no idea I was going to wind up spending the whole day at the conference, more or less repping the MAP community to so many important folks. It was fucking amazing. Oh, and Candice is also an awesome human being in case I haven’t made that clear enough. I hope more of you get the chance to meet her some day and I hope I will get to see her at some point in the future as well.

Anyway, I’d have been remiss if I didn’t come here and at least tell everyone about it. I only wish more of you could have experienced it. It wouldn’t be exaggerating to call it one of the most memorable days of my life. I wish I could attend more of these but they move around every year, and if it isn’t close enough to catch an Uber to, it probably isn’t happening. So, that was probably my one chance. I’m glad I made the most of it.

Brett

The post The 2019 ATSA Conference appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.

Pretty much anyone who knows me and who I’m also out to as a MAP knows I consider myself to be an exclusive pedophile. I’m not attracted to adults at all, and I tend to lose any attraction I have to a given kid when they become visibly pubescent. That said, my rough AOA tends to be 8-12. I do not consider myself a hebephile at all, but I often hear others when speaking of minor attraction say that pedophiles are generally attracted to 10 and under, whereas hebephiles are attracted to 11-14 or so. I’ve even heard this coming from professionals from time to time and from others who should be in the know. For my part, I honestly think that categorizing the two philias that way is a little off, and that it doesn’t account for the bit of overlap there is between pedophilia and hebephilia.

Now I realize that all kids develop differently and that there are 11 year olds who look 14 and 14 year olds who look 11. However, if we’re talking about an average kid, I’d say that the average 12 year old is usually still pretty attractive to me, while the average 13 year old is not anymore. That’s because the average 12 year old still looks more like a little kid than a teenager. Sure their body may have started puberty but usually not in ways that are very visible just yet. That’s why someone who is exclusively a pedophile may be attracted to the average 12 year old whereas someone who is an exclusive hebephile may be attracted to the exact same kid.

If I had to categorize pedophilia vs hebephilia via age range for the general public, instead of saying pedophilia is 10 and under whereas hebephilia is 11-whatever, I’d say pedophilia is 12 and under whereas hebephilia is 11 and over. There isn’t a distinct line there because puberty isn’t an abrupt event that happens overnight. As an exclusive pedophile, I’ve known exclusive hebephiles and it’s not at all uncommon for us to agree on the attractiveness of given children who are at the upper end of my AOA and at the lower end of theirs.

It’s not as if I, a pedophile, and a hebephile I might know, could both be acquainted with the same 11 year old kid, with me being attracted to that kid and the hebephile not, then the kid goes to bed one night on a Friday, and when they wake up on Saturday, the hebephile is now attracted to them and me not anymore. That’s not how it works. Prepubescent kids don’t encase themselves in a cocoon where they go through a rapid metamorphosis and come out the next day a young teen.

To illustrate my point a bit further, have a look at this extremely shitty venn diagram I made. This was the best way I could think of to give a visual representation of how people should understand pedophilia vs hebephilia. Unfortunately I’m not that savvy when it comes to creating my own graphics on the computer and what have you, so I just used MS Paint. I know, I know. What am I using? Windows 3.1 or something? Fuck you.

So anyway, there you have it. That’s the difference between pedophilia and hebephilia with the bit of invariable overlap between them that typically exists. If any of my buddies who have Twitter accounts would mind tweeting this out for me, I’d appreciate it. Not that anyone did that for the last piece I wrote, ya bastards.

I kid, I kid. It’s my fault I deleted my Twitter account. Not that I’m considering putting it back up. Thanks in advance though if I can get this tweeted out. If not, I love you all anyway.

Brett

The post Where Pedophilia and Hebephilia Overlap appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.

So, the first time I had a suicidal thought I was in 4th grade.  That means I would have been 9 or 10. I don’t think I was suicidal in an over-all sense at the time but I was definitely miserable and for the first time in my life it occurred to me that perhaps death may be the only way to escape my misery. Most of my misery at that point had to do with school, where I was constantly bullied and more or less had no friends. Also I just hated school in general, hated church, didn’t like most other kids and was tremendously bored by most everything. There was also some CSA taking place at the hands of older kids in my neighborhood but I don’t think that factored in to my early suicide ideation much, oddly enough.

Sixth grade was the first time I was what I would think of as genuinely suicidal, mostly for the same reasons. At that point I truly did not want to go on living most of the time and fantasized about suicide a lot. After Sixth grade I moved to a different school and things got a little better for a time. Then, in the later part of my eighth grade year, the attraction to younger boys started to develop, and the suicidal downward spiral that sent me into would last into my early 20’s. Not sure how the fuck I survived it sometimes to be honest.

Now I’m 44 and in the last two decades I’ve been suicidal on and off. As an adult the suicidal periods I’ve gone through haven’t had quite as much to do with my pedophilic issues but they always at least play a part. Sometimes I think being an exclusive pedophile and having to deal with everything that comes with it just makes everything else harder, but I digress.

My last suicidal period ended only about a year ago. That was a pretty bad one and had gone on for several years. In fact, I had promised myself that if things didn’t get better I was definitely not going to live to turn 50 because I was going to end it before then. I’d just have to find the right time and the right method. It couldn’t be anything messy or anything that put anyone else in danger. Also, I was determined that if and when I did end it, it would have to be in such a way that guaranteed it would not be my parents or anyone else who cared about me that would find my body. I had given it a lot of careful thought.

The good news is, I’m in a better place now. I still have my rough days and I still have times when my head goes to dark places where thoughts of self harm and suicide barge in, but in an over-all sense I’m doing pretty well, for me.

That brings me to what I’m really here to post about. I was having this discussion with a friend of mine who I’m out to recently and I told him that I’m not suicidal anymore but that I do still have suicidal thoughts frequently. He contended that having suicidal thoughts meant I was still suicidal. I argued that being suicidal means you truly do not want to go on living and really do want to kill yourself. The suicidal thoughts I have now I likened to the temporary urge one might get to punch a wall when they’re angry. The urge pops up out of anger, then the person having the urge has to tell themselves not to punch the wall because they’ll only hurt their hand. Then they push the thought of punching the wall away from their mind and move on. They don’t live in a constant or nearly constant state of wanting to punch walls.

In that regard, I still have suicidal thoughts every single day, multiple times a day, but that’s all they are. Temporary flashes of anger and frustration with myself and with my life that my brain deals with by having a suicidal thought. However, when I have those suicidal thoughts in a non suicidal period, I calm myself, push the thought away, and move on with my day. I do not want to end my life to escape misery in an over-all sense.

At this point in my life, I think I’ve been genuinely suicidal enough that having a suicidal thought is just my brain’s default way of dealing with things that make me angry, frustrated or unhappy and I don’t think I’ll ever not have suicidal thoughts because they just come too easily to me. However, if I’m doing ok in an over-all sense and momentary suicidal thoughts are all I’m having without being actually suicidal, I think I’m doing pretty well. Again, for me. Oh, and these days those suicidal thoughts aren’t usually centered around my pedophilia. Sometimes, but not usually.

Anyway, perhaps someone else out there has some insight and can speak to this. Am I right that having even frequent suicidal thoughts doesn’t necessarily make one suicidal if they aren’t seriously contemplating suicide? Or, am I just so goddamn fucked up that I have suicidal thoughts all the time and think things are just cool? I’m asking because when I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone else say “I have suicidal thoughts but I’m not suicidal” before. Is this unique to me or are there others out there? Maybe with this entry I’ll find out.

Brett.

PS: Seeing as I don’t have a Twitter account anymore, I’m wondering if any of my homies might be so kind as to tweet this entry for me. Thanks in advance.

The post Suicidal Thoughts vs Being Suicidal appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.

Any of us who’ve been putting ourselves out there as pedophiles for any amount of time have probably heard these types of these things hurled at us more times than we can likely count. I know I have for certain. I’ve been called every degrading name in the book, been told that I’m worse than a murderer, had death curses wished upon me, you name it.

At least a time or two over the years, I’ve had persons more sympathetic to my plight ask me how hearing those types of things makes me feel. The god’s honest truth of the matter is, hearing those types of things makes me feel nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.

The reason the types of insults and curses mentioned above fail to stir so much as a shred of anger, hurt or frustration from within me, is that they have only ever come from nameless, faceless attackers who do not know me and who are speaking from a position of complete and total ignorance. Their words are like a blank shell in a gun. They may make a lot of noise but there is no bullet inside. Much like a gun firing blanks, their empty, noisy words have no ability to harm.

While I am not completely out of the closet as a pedophile, (some like to say out of the toybox), I am out to a good number of people in my real life. Because all of them liked me and knew I was a good guy before I came out to them, they all still feel the same way now. None of them think I’m a monster or any of those other things. That’s good, because their opinions actually matter to me.

Perhaps even more important to me would be the opinions of the people who I knew as children and the opinions of any children I know currently. I am 42 years old, and I have a number of very close friends who are in their early to late 20’s who I also knew and spent time with when they were children and I was a younger man. Some of them I babysat for, others I met through other means. A couple of these people have told me that I was like a second father to them. Some of them now have children of their own who they now trust me with implicitly and their children love me. (GASP!) No, I haven’t told any of these people I’m a pedophile because I’m not sure how that would impact them, but they definitely don’t think I’m a monster, a piece of shit, or what have you, and I’m confident they would defend me adamantly if someone suggested that I was.

So, none of the people in my real life who know I’m a pedo, none of the people I was involved with when they were children, and none of the children I currently know think any of the aforementioned negative things about me, and none of them ever will. Their opinions on the matter are the only ones I value, because theirs are the only ones that are even remotely important or relevant to me. If one of them ever decided, for any reason, that I am a monster, a piece of shit, etc, it would cut me to the bone, but they all love me, so it’s cool.

In summation, if you are someone I love and care about and you have some kind of negative value judgement regarding the type of human being I am, yes, I would take that deeply to heart. If you’re some anonymous troll or pedo hunter/hater, feel free to sling all the hate, insults and curses my way you like. Just know that if your intention is to wound me, you’re wasting your time, because you don’t know me, you don’t understand or really know anything about pedophilia, and your opinion is therefore about as valuable to me as a pile of dry, moldy dog shit.

To be honest, if anything, I feed off that type of hate and negativity. I absorb it and use the nourishing energy from it to get bigger and stronger, like the blob.

The post You’re a Monster, Piece of Shit, Danger to Children, Etc. appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.

I’ve spent years arguing the anti-contact position, and if I were able to compile all of the things I’ve written over the years on the matter in one place, I might have myself a fairly lengthy little book. However, today, I don’t want to bring up the reasons I’m anti-contact. I’ve done that enough and such an entry would get far too long. No, in this entry, instead of talking about what my reasons for being anti-contact are, I want to go into what my reasons for being anti contact aren’t. One, because that’s a much shorter list, and two, because it’s something there seems to be a lot of confusion about out there.

One thing for certain, is that if you’re speaking as an anti-contact pedophile, the things you’re saying are nearly certain to piss someone off. If it’s not some pedophile-hating, moral-outrage-shouting, myrmidon from the general public, it’s a pro-contact pedophile. Or, sometimes, both at the same time. (Thanks to Twitter, mostly.)

We all know that a lot of non-pedophiles view all pedophiles with absolute contempt, and it often doesn’t matter how anti-contact or how “virtuous” we may be. A lot people out there are just as apt to tell me that they’d like to “cure” me with a bullet through my skull as they are to say the same thing to a pro-contact pedophile. They don’t care. A pedophile is a pedophile and nonce is a nonce. Being sexually attracted to children alone is enough to qualify you as a monster. Also, when you insist to such people that you are anti-contact, the tendency is for them not to believe you. They think you must be hiding your true motives and that you’re just trying to manipulate and deceive them. That’s what pedophiles do, right?

On the other side of this coin, we’ve got the pro-contact crowd. Before Virped, whenever I was speaking in any forum with other pedophiles, that’s who I always found myself sparring with, and I never could seem to get around it. I tried at times to just stay silent on the contact issue, but I always found the things the more vocal pro-contacters said to be so grotesquely wrong that I never could keep my mouth shut for long. I don’t suppose I need to tell anyone that this did not make me very popular in some of those old pedophile groups. Eventually, I always wound up vastly outnumbered, would be shouted down, and would wind up leaving out of pure frustration. Thank god for Virped.

So, I hear the pedo-haters on one side, suspecting that my anti-contact stance is simply a front. It’s an act to soften people up in hopes of one day achieving a more pro-contact agenda. They always seem to find one way or another of making this accusation in so many words as they hurl their righteous indignation my way.

On the other side, I hear the pro-contact folks, assuming that I and pedophiles like me have “turned our backs on the childlove movement” and that we’ve “given up” in hopes that people will finally just like and accept us. We’re traitors, sell-outs, and our treachery knows no limits.

While I can’t ultimately speak for anyone but myself, I want to once and for all state that all of the aforementioned assumptions about my motives for being anti-contact are absolutely, thoroughly, 100% incorrect.

So, I say the following to both the pedo-haters suspicious of my anti-contact activism, and to the pro-contact crowd at the same time. I’m talking to both groups simultaneously here, and I’m going to address all of your misconceptions in a very condensed manner, so pay attention. Take this to heart and know this…..

I have held a solid core belief that adult-child sex is wrong from the beginning. I pretty much became an anti-contact pedophile the very moment I realized children were sexually attractive to me. I’ve never held NAMBLA-like beliefs and gave up on them because they were too difficult to achieve. I do not hope for a future where adults and children can legally have sex and think we can only get there if we “play our hand right” and “play by the rules” for now. I’m not anti-contact because I want anyone’s sympathy and I don’t aim to “normalize” pedophilia. (Whatever that means.) I do not expect a congratulatory pat on the back for not molesting children or for being anti-contact and I’m not just hoping I can get people to like me a little more. My anti-contactism HAS NO ULTERIOR MOTIVE! I am anti-contact because I truly and steadfastly believe it’s what is right, not because I think expressing those beliefs will benefit me in some way, either in the foreseeable or distant future.

(Damn, I just coined a phrase. “Anti-contactism”. In fact, I think we can even just go ahead and take the hyphen out of that. “Anticontactism”. I like it!)

To illustrate my point even further, I’ll ask you all to use your imaginations a little. Imagine, if you will, that there really were such a thing as a crystal ball which could tell the future. Now, imagine I found myself one of those crystal balls and figured out how to use it. If I were to look into that imaginary crystal ball and see that nothing will change in terms of how society views and treats pedophiles/MAPs fifty or more years from now, or ever, I still would not change my beliefs, my involvement with Virped, or the manner in which I conduct myself as a pedophile. I’d be disappointed, but I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

The mere possibility that my efforts, my words, and now my involvement with Virped could keep even one pedophile from acting out with one child at any point ever is enough for me. That’s who I am, that’s what I am, and that’s what I’m about. People on one side or the other can keep on not liking it all they want, just as long as they understand what it is they aren’t liking.

Glad I had the opportunity to clear all this up.

The post The (not) Reasons I’m Anti-Contact. appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.

Right now, there are places in the world where a certain type of children are being bought and sold like common commodities. They are shipped from place to place, in secret, often internationally. They are exploited and used without any regard to their feelings or well being. They are provided for the sole purpose of servicing adults sexually. Their little bodies subject to any and all manner of unspeakable acts, used as if they are nothing more than toys.

Okay, full disclosure, these particular children are toys, but what right does that give anyone to sexualize and defile them? Sure, they may be made entirely out of plastic, or latex, or silicone, or whatever the hell they make sex dolls out of these days, but they are still children. Children who are being provided to satisfy the sick desires of the most evil, subhuman, filthy creatures on the face of the planet, pedophiles.

Fortunately this tragic and atrocious phenomenon has not gone unnoticed by the governments of some of the more compassionate and enlightened nations of the world. The artificial child sex trade is a scourge that people are waking up to everywhere, and people are demanding action. It is because of this awareness that countless artificial children will not be made to suffer the artificial trauma that might have been their lot in life. Because of this, they will no doubt be saved years of artificial therapy with artificial therapists to recover from their artificial pain, and the world will be a kinder place.

If you haven’t picked up on my sarcasm by now, stop reading immediately. This is not the blog for you.

I’m pretty sure anyone with half a functioning brain will agree that child sexual abuse is bad. Even many pedophiles understand and believe that children should never be interfered with sexually by adults and that age consent laws serve a legitimate purpose in protecting children from people who would take advantage of them. (Shout out to my fellow Virpeds.) However, the degree to which modern society has taken it’s zealousness to protect children from sexual harm has begun to lead us far beyond common sense solutions and off into the real of the hysterical and the insane. This hysteria includes but is not limited to arresting and prosecuting people for sex with inanimate objects, as well as possession of drawn and computed generated images.

There have been a number of cases recently of people around the world being arrested for such “crimes” when the items (child-like sex dolls) they purchased were discovered entering the country. Normally these people have resided in either Europe, Australia or North America. The country the dolls seem to all be coming from is Japan, where apparently they have slightly more tolerant, dare I say sane, attitudes towards behaviors such as sex with inanimate objects that may or may not look like children.

Sadly, whenever I’ve seen an article about what I’ll call the child doll sex trade, the comments at the bottom of those articles have typically been overwhelmingly in favor of prosecuting the purchasers of said dolls. Not to mention in favor of doing cruel and unusual things to to said purchasers. Who would have thought that making love to a lifeless piece of latex would be an act deserving of a slow and painful death?

As one might expect, a lot of the comments I saw associated with these articles didn’t even make any sense at all, and made comparisons between pedophilia and other phenomena that not only missed the mark, but sounded silly doing it. One such comparison I heard more than once was that of pedophiles to serial killers. The thought more or less being, “What’s next? Providing serial killers with dolls they can act out their fantasies on?”

Now, anyone who knows what they’re talking about, including experts who study pedophilia, will tell you that pedophilia and the things that motivate homicidal manics are not even in the same psychological ballpark. Not even close. It’s like comparing apples to giraffes. (Apples to oranges isn’t different enough.) Still, let’s work with the example anyway, shall we?

If someone were inclined to stalk and murder other human beings, and that person wanted to act out the fantasy with a non-human surrogate victim, what would prevent them from obtaining an ordinary department store mannequin, taking that mannequin home, and stabbing the shit out of it? To be honest, if someone were inclined towards such things, I’d prefer that they resorted to using the mannequin as an outlet as opposed to say, my sister or my mom, but that’s just me, I guess.

Continuing with this example of the homicidal person and his unfortunate department store mannequin, if this scenario were to play out in real life, and someone were to catch the “offender”, can anyone imagine anything being done about it from a legal standpoint? Can you imagine a 911 call?

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Yes, you have to help! I can’t believe what I’ve just seen! My neighbor….. my neighbor came home today with what appears to be a female mannequin.”

“Ummmm…… what? What’s your emergency?”

“No, no… you don’t understand! That’s not all! Just now, I was looking over there and, well, I didn’t mean to, I mean… I wasn’t trying to be nosy or anything, but for a moment, I could see through his living room window, and well, he had the mannequin and he was….. STABBING IT WITH A KNIFE!!!!!”

“My god! Ma’am, stay calm and lock your doors! I’m sending the SWAT team immediately!”

Does anyone really think that’s how such a call would play out? I’m going to say no. I’m going to say that the operator would probably laugh you off the phone. If they did send anyone, the cops at most would ask the mannequin slasher a couple of questions. Then, they’d roll their eyes and walk away thinking, “what a weirdo”, and that would be it. That’s even in a case where the mannequin being stabbed was a childlike one. Stab that same childlike mannequin with your dick though, and you could be in some serious legal hot water.

Is the absurdity of the criminalization of child sex dolls coming through any clearer now?

The criminalization of victimless acts which simulate child sex haven’t been limited to life-like dolls either. In many places around the world, people have been arrested and prosecuted for drawn and computer-generated images which portray children in a sexual light or engaging in sexual activity. No children have been harmed, and there is no evidence that the people viewing such media have or will harm children, but they have been made criminals anyway, for what amounts to essentially nothing at all.

Some may say the the people who are found to be in passion of such material are deserving of punishment simply because “it’s sick”. Ok, fair enough. Let’s accept that it’s “sick”. The fact of the matter is, lots of people do things in private that, while harmless to anyone else, most others would consider icky, or creepy, or sick, and they do not have to worry about the police knocking on their door, arresting them, putting them in jail, then adding them to a registry that marks them as social pariahs for the rest of their lives.

Also, much like the example with the mannequin, there are artificial things that could be worse and that would be unquestioningly protected by free speech and/or privacy rights. If someone drew or created computer generated images of a bunch of murdered and mutilated children, would they also be going to jail? I certainly don’t think so. Especially not if the creator were to claim the that images were supposed to represent something about the cruelty of a bleak and uncaring society or some such thing. Then, it’s just art. Controversial art perhaps, but art. However, put the illustrations of the mutilated children side by side with computer generated CP, and which would portray the greater atrocity? Why then, could someone be imprisoned for the latter images and not the former?

At the end of the day, the most compelling argument people in the camp who support the criminalization of all forms of artificial child sex have is that it encourages actual child abuse and that people who resort to any form of artificial child sex will eventually decide that’s not enough and go on to abuse real children. The problem is that there is not so much as a single shred of even anecdotal evidence to support that assumption. That’s all it is, an assumption. A baseless, knee-jerk supposition made mostly by people who have little to no understanding of the issue and certainly not of pedophilia itself.

Speaking as someone who is a pedophile himself and therefore has a pretty deep understanding of the issue, if anything, it’s the opposite. To me, common sense would dictate that it would be better for pedophiles to have as many harmless and victimless outlets as possible to discharge sexual energy. People who are sexually attracted to children are going be sexually attracted to children one way or the other, until the day they die. Providing or denying them sexual outlets is not going to change that, one way or the other.

If I were a teleiophile and a parent, I’d think I’d want pedophiles to have child sex dolls and artificial CP. The more the better. Hell, not only do I think I’d want to to be legal, but mandatory. I can see the government program now…. “If you’re a pedophile or are in any way sexually inclined towards children, come to you local department of health and pick up your free child sex doll! We can provide child sex dolls of all shapes and sizes! Take it home! Fuck it all you want! Just stay away from real children!”

To be honest though, the availability of such sexual outlets probably makes little difference either way. Pedophiles who have a mindset that inclines them towards actually abusing children are a already a danger to children. I really don’t think that fucking a doll is going to magically make them any more or less dangerous. Pedophiles who already have or already do abuse children probably aren’t going to be satisfied with a doll. Pedophiles who are committed to not acting out and not abusing children aren’t going to make love to a child doll, then snap and decide to betray everything they believe in and willfully harm a child they care about.

With all of that having been taken into account, this is really just another issue of personal freedoms and individual liberties. In a truly free society, any person who is inclined to should be able to purchase any sexual aids they chose, including lifelike dolls, of any shape and size, made to the likeness of any age group, for any reason. Would the availability of a childlike love doll keep me from abusing a child real life? No, because I wouldn’t and won’t abuse a child in real life anyway, with or without a doll to live out my fantasies with. The reason I should be allowed to purchase such a doll, without fear, is that it’s a victimless act, and it’s none of anyone else’s goddamn business what I do when I’m completely alone, in the privacy of my own bedroom.

Not that I’d buy one if I thought I could. I mean, how good could a lifeless piece of silicone or latex or whatever really be? Also, storage and cleaning would probably be a pain in the ass. Although I suppose I could probably find somewhere to keep it, but I’m not sure it would be worth the hassle. Not to mention they are pretty expensive, from what I’ve heard. Although everyone takes MasterCard these days, don’t they? What is my credit limit again? I’m not close to maxed out……

Ok, I’d totally buy one.

The post The Tragedy of Child Sex Dolls and Artificial CP appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.

As many of you who already know my story are aware, when I was about 13 and a half, I started developing an attraction to younger boys that came seemingly out of nowhere. Before that, I was only turned on by women and same-aged girls. Not only turned on by, but sexually obsessed with. Most of the molestation and sexual bullying I endured at the hands of older kids as a boy had been done by females, and it led to a hypersexuality that I’m certain isn’t healthy for a preteenage boy. However, up to that point, not once had my premature obsession with sex and pornography been directed towards males at all. As the 13.5 year old me rapidly discovered his attraction to younger boys, he found his attraction to females disappear completely and almost immediately.

I remember sitting on the floor of my bedroom in the late summer of 1988, looking at pictures of boys in the Sears catalog. (Yes, kids, this is before the internet.) Why did my mind and my heart suddenly race at the thought of what those boys might look like if you took off all those clothes they were advertising? Then, the more overtly sexual thoughts crept in. I tried to repel those thoughts and wish them away but they just kept coming back stronger. It was as if the attraction had started out as a babbling brook but very rapidly turned into a raging river that I could no longer swim upstream against, no matter how hard I tried. It was futile to resist, and before to long I surrendered and let that torrent of raging water take me where it would.

As I rifled through the boys section of that big, thick catalog, I remember asking myself in my head, “Am I gay? Why am I turning gay?” However, it didn’t take me very long to realize that I was not turning gay in any normal sense. I was well into puberty at that point, and the boys who I began finding attractive were all younger and prepubescent. I had no idea what it all meant though. I had no frame of reference. I was totally lost and confused. I hoped that maybe it was a phase and that it would go away, but the more the weeks and months wore on, the more this new found attraction hard-wired itself into my being.

Keep in mind now, that in the late 80’s, the word “pedophile” was not nearly as much a part of the public vernacular as it is today. At 13, I had never even heard the word. Sure, I knew there were people out there who molested children but I didn’t have any concept of the fact that there existed adults who were primarily sexually interested in children. I had been warned all throughout my childhood of molesters, but didn’t really have much of a handle on who they were exactly either. To me, child molesters were dark, shadowy, creepy strangers who wore trench coats and sat in windowless vans outside of schoolyards, with a bag of candy and a perpetual erection. They were people who abducted children, chained them up in their basements, did unspeakable things to them, and finally left them in shallow graves somewhere. Surely I wasn’t becoming one of those, right? I couldn’t be. I knew I was a nice person and I didn’t want to hurt anyone.

Then, in the early months of 1989, there came the day when I found out. The day I found out what I was, or, at least was given a label to apply to myself and my new sexual identity. They say labels aren’t important, but they can be, especially when you’re trying to categorize something for the sake of making sense of it.

It was right around my fourteenth birthday, give or take a month or two. I was sitting in my living room, watching MTV, when the Madonna video for the the song “Open Your Heart” came on. Now, I’m not much of a Madonna fan and wasn’t even back then, but I was a bored teenage kid who would watch whatever crappy video came on MTV. At the time, I was probably waiting patiently for the next Guns n Roses or Motley Crue video. This was long before on-demand, mind you, and to see a rock video, you often had to wade through half a dozen or more teeny-bop videos and just enjoy the rock ones when MTV decided to air them. Though not a fan of Madonna, this video grabbed my attention and held it, because this video featured a stunningly gorgeous boy who appeared to be about 10 or 11.

So, I watched this video and was absolutely transfixed by the beauty of this boy. My heart skipped a beat every time he was shown on camera. Then, at the end of the video, Madonna bends down and kisses this little boy on the lips. It was all I could do not to excuse myself to the restroom for a fap right then and there. How badly I wished I could have kissed those lips like she did.

Towards the end of the video, my mother had come into room and witnessed the on-screen kiss. When Madonna’s lips pulled away from the boy’s, my mother became visibly perturbed and exclaimed, “Oh my god! What the hell is wrong with Madonna? Is she a pedophile or something?”

What had my mom just said? “A pedophile?” Having never heard this peculiar P word before, I hesitantly asked her, “What is a pedophile?” It was immediately clear she was made uncomfortable by my question and didn’t want to answer me, but I persisted. I wouldn’t let her off the hook, even though I could see that my steadfast inquiry was making her squirm. After a minute or two of pestering, she relented and reluctantly explained to me that a pedophile was an adult who was sexually attracted to children.

The second that explanation finished leaving her mouth, I knew it. I knew that’s what I was and what I was becoming. Now I had word for it though. A “pedophile”. I was a fucking pedophile! Sure, I had only just turned 14 myself, but that didn’t matter. That is what I was and that was suddenly my new reality.

As an aside, I know that the clinical definition of pedophile states that, to be a pedophile, one must be at least 16 years old and at least 5 years older than the children they are attracted to but I don’t completely agree with those criteria. Sure, I understand the need to apply those specifications to the definition from a clinical standpoint but, in reality, that clinical, textbook definition of pedophilia is far from infallible. I was every bit as much a pedophile the day I sat watching that Madonna video with my mother as I am today. Not from a clinical standpoint, but from a reality standpoint.

It’s hard for me to believe that day, that epiphany, that moment of clarity I had at 14 happened over 25 years ago. Christ, a quarter of a fucking century! How I’ve survived this long with all this is anybody’s guess, but how I survived the first few years of it is nothing short of a bloody fucking miracle.

From that day forward, I had a word to give some frame of reference to what I was, but it didn’t make me feel any less alone. Alone, confused, bewildered and lost. I only wonder what my life might have been like had 14 year old kids like me, in 1989, known they had places to turn for help and support for such things.

That’s why I do what I do, by the way. That’s why this discussion and this issue is so important. That’s why the topic of pedophilia needs to be wrestled out of the shadows and brought into the light, in a realistic sense. This is why we need to break through all the hysteria and dispel the myths. This, above all else, is why my fellow Virpeds and I will not be silenced and will not go away, no matter how uncomfortable the message we have may make some people.

If kids who came of age dealing with what I had to deal with did so in an environment where they did not have to feel ashamed and afraid to open up and reach out for help, how much better would things be for them and possibly lots of people around them? Sadly, I still don’t think we foster such an environment in our society, but I think we’re getting closer to a time and a place where we will, and I’m proud to be one of the people leading the charge to make that happen.

Brett

The post And On That Day, I Knew What I Was appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.

So, I’ve decided I might as well start a little blog of my own. Not sure I’m going to do much with it, but we’ll see. In my first blog post, I’m going to tell a little bit of my story. This is kind of long, but it obviously has huge chunks of things left out that I’d like to have left in. To tell the whole story, I’d need to write a book. A very long and fucked-up book. We’ll call this, the ultra, ultra abridged version.

Anyway, about me. I am a pedophile in my early 40’s and my life has not been easy. I understand that most people’s lives aren’t easy, but then most people aren’t cursed with the least desirable form of sexuality imaginable. The good news is, I have never acted on my pedophilic attractions. Specifically, I am primarily attracted both emotionally and sexually to preteen boys but also to girls in the same age range, although not quite as much. I see my pedophilia as a burden and a curse and every single day is a struggle.

I come from a background of childhood sexual abuse and bullying. I won’t get into the details of that too much, because then this would get too long. I will say that I was never the victim of an adult pedophile offender though. Most of the molestation and abuse I was subject to came at the hands of older kids in my neighborhood. To this day, I am sometimes hesitant to call what happened sexual abuse, and instead find myself more comfortable with the term “sexual bullying”. However, when I’ve used that term with other CSA survivors, some have been quick to point out that bullying is abuse, therefore sexual bullying is sexual abuse. Either way, I know the experiences I had as a child were sexually traumatic, and had a profound impact on my sexual and emotional development.

Because of a lot of the things that had gone on, I spent my preteen years obsessed with sex and pornography, and the sexual frustration, confusion, and shame this created ate at me. If only I’d at least known how to masturbate to orgasm, perhaps this would have lessened the frustration a little but I didn’t know how. I only knew how to “play with myself”, and I did that a lot, but didn’t find it all that satisfying. I felt like I needed release, but I didn’t know how to achieve it and it drove me crazy. Through all of the sexual teasing, tormenting, bullying and abuse I experienced as a child, I never once had been brought to orgasm. I don’t think I even truly knew or understood what one was until the day I actually achieved one.

Finally, when I was very close to my 13th birthday, I figured it out. After that I began masturbating every day. Sometimes to pictures in lingerie catalogs. Sometimes to fantasies of pretty girls at school. I would have masturbated to pornography but I generally only had access to that when other kids were around and didn’t want to jerk off in front of them.

This habit of jerking off to lingerie catalogs and fantasies of girls I knew went on for about a year. Then, in my 8th grade year, a few months before my 14th birthday, something changed. I don’t know what the fuck happened. I don’t know how or why the switch was suddenly flipped in my mind. All of the sudden, out of the blue, boys started to look good to me. At first, it was just a little, but within probably a month of having my first sexual thought of a boy, they were all I thought about or masturbated to.

It didn’t make any sense. I had never been attracted to other boys at all before. Not even a little, tiny bit. At first I thought I was becoming gay, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that wasn’t it. I was nearly 14 and now well into puberty. The boys that suddenly looked good to me were all younger. Only ones with prepubescent features. After that, I grew up….. my attraction did not.

So, on into my teen years I went with this horrible new affliction ripping me apart inside. I had no frame of reference for the things I thought and felt, other than the horrible things you’d hear on the news about child molesters. I thought I knew shame and self-hate before then but this brought those to a whole new level. I had been dealing with suicidal thoughts since I was in the fourth grade, but now my suicide ideation became almost more of an obsession. What had I become? How could I be this sick and this hopeless? I was a pedophile. I had become a true creature of evil. The worst possible form of life. What had I done to deserve this fate and this level of torment?

For the first year or so of knowing and understanding that I was a pedophile, I was terrified that I was doomed to become a child molester. Surely prison awaited me some day. Surely everyone who had these types of thoughts and attractions acted on them eventually, right? There was no denying to myself what I was, and there was only one way I thought that could end.

However, by my mid teens, I had resolved to myself that I would never become one of those dirty, creepy men you hear about on the news molesting little boys. I knew I wasn’t like that and I didn’t want to be that. At the time, I still figured probably everyone else on the planet who was afflicted with the types of attractions I had must act on them. I was going to be the one who didn’t though. I was going to break the mold. I was going to be the one who beat this thing, and the one who wouldn’t let it make me become a child molester, even if I was the only one in the world.

At 18, I disclosed to a friend of mine about my childhood sexual abuse and about my pedophilia, all in the same conversation. I had decided to kill myself that night and I intended to. I don’t know what convinced me to call him that night and disclose before I went through with it but I did. I couldn’t believe I was telling someone but the words just started flowing out of me, as did the tears. I remember sitting in a fetal position with the phone to my ear, tearing at my hair and sobbing while I told him everything. He convinced me to come to his house that night and sleep over to keep me safe. He also told me he could hook me up with his family’s therapist.

I visited the therapist he hooked me up with for about a year and a half. If it hadn’t been for my sessions with him, I don’t know if I’d be here today. He really helped me sort some things out, put some things in perspective and get some things off my chest. However, I went to him with the false hope that therapy could fix me. That it could cure my pedophilia. Of course it couldn’t. Nothing can cure it.

Since then, not much about my sexuality has changed. I am more or less exclusively attracted to preteen boys. Preteen girls are attractive to me as well, only not quite as much as boys. I have no sexual attraction to adult women at all. I am not necessarily sexually turned off by them but I’m not interested either. Besides, being in sexual situations with them is extremely uncomfortable and triggering. I can’t handle it, and I want to run for the hills. Also, I am completely sexually turned off by men and even boys past puberty. Once they are pubescent, any and all attraction disappears.

As an aside, how strange is it that my sexual attraction to children just happens to be only to children who are in the age range where my own childhood sexual trauma took place? When they are about 7 or 8, they suddenly become sexually attractive to me. (In rare cases, children of either sex as young as six may trigger an attraction but never younger than that.) Before that, they just look like babies to me. I will say that I absolutely LOVE younger children but only kind of on the same level that I love puppies and kittens. It’s just that specific age, about the same time they loose their baby teeth and start growing their first primary teeth, the attraction starts. Then, at puberty, it ends completely. Starts at 7 or 8, ends at 12 or 13. The same age-range my abuse occurred at. Fucked huh?

My attraction to children isn’t just sexual though. It’s deeply emotional too. I can’t stand to see a little kid who’s hurt, or who looks scared or sad. I can’t stand to see them cry. When I do, all I want in the world is to swoop in, take them in my arms, hold them and make their pain go away. I can’t even watch a movie that has a sad scene involving a little kid without going to pieces and crying all over myself.

Fortunately, when it comes to the sexual aspect of my attraction, I have been blessed with a solid core belief that it is always wrong and harmful for an adult to be sexual with a child under any circumstances. I actually spent quite a few years posting in “boylove” forums and was not shy about expressing this opinion even there. Needless to say, that did not make me popular in those circles. Guys who will have sex with 10 year olds and try to claim the relationship is “mutual” do not like it when one of their own walks in and tries to shatter their delusions. In fact, they tend to get really fucking pissed.

The good news is, a couple of years ago, I found the forums over at Virped (Virtuous Pedophiles.) Since then, the Virped community has become my life, and I have never been so dedicated to a cause as I am to ours. A support group run for pedophiles, by pedophiles, and one in which the members are all committed to not acting on their attractions is something I would not have dared hope for just a few short years ago. I wish I could go back in time and tell the 15 year old me that this community would exist someday, and that he was not alone in the world. If only there had been a Virped when I was younger man. I’ll never know what kind of a difference that might have made in my life , but I do know that it will make a difference the lives of young pedophiles going forward. Better late than never.

We all know you can not cure pedophilia. Even therapists who’ve been treating pedos for years will tell you that. You can not cure it, you can only hope to contain it. I already contain it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t torment me on a daily basis. Sexual attraction to children is a curse of the worst order. It drives me to drink, it drives me to hate my life, and it has nearly driven me to suicide more times than I can count. There is no hope. It will torment me until the day I die. If there was a magic pill I could swallow that would make me stop being attracted to kids, I’d claw my way through hell to get a hold of it. Unfortunately, the only way to remove it from the brain is to put a gun in your mouth and pull the fucking trigger. How I haven’t done that over all these years is anyone’s guess. Sorry if that’s morbid but it’s true.

In closing, I want to say this. I do struggle with my pedophilia, and I am tormented by it, but the not abusing children part is easy for me. I’ve been alone with kids I was attracted to hundreds of times, (perhaps thousands), and while I’ve had sexual thoughts in those situations, acting on them has never been something I’ve actually been tempted to do. I’ve never really even considered it. The very thought seems not only wrong, but also unrealistic and stupid, for a variety of reasons that I probably shouldn’t have to spell out.

So, that’s my story in a nutshell. It’s certainly no fairy tale, but it’s far from the worst of the stories I’ve heard from some of my friends who also carry this burden. My life has not been great to this point, and I’m far from being what anyone would consider a successful adult, but my hope is that I can use my experiences and the insight they have given me to affect the world around me in positive ways. Through my participation in Virped, and my efforts to be a voice in the wilderness on the topics of pedophilia and CSA, I hope that I can have an impact on others who’ve had their lives affected by these things. In doing so, my ultimate hope is that I/we can affect the world in such a way that fewer people have their lives affected by these things in the first place. Perhaps that’s hoping for a lot, but either way I’m all in, and will continue to be so until the day death mercifully takes me.

Brett

The post I Am Brett. I Am A Pedophile. Here Is My Story appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.

Just like everyone else, I was was deeply saddened last week to learn of the final twist in the tragic tale of the abduction of Jacob Wetterling. While I don’t think anyone had much hope of a happy ending to the story after 27 years, the news still caused my heart to sink. As sad as the news is, I’m glad that the story at least has an ending at all and, in that, Jacob’s loved ones finally have closure.

I’ll never forget when I first learned of the Wetterling abduction. I was 14 years old at the time and was sitting in the Atlanta airport with the mother of a friend of mine, waiting for that friend to get off a plane. As I sat there in the concourse terminal, I shuffled through a magazine someone had abandoned there. I believe it was a Time magazine, although I could be remembering wrong. What I do remember is rifling though the pages, not really intending to read anything but more to keep my bored 14 year old brain occupied while we waited on my buddy’s flight to arrive.

Then, the image on one particular page caught my eye and grabbed my attention immediately. I ceased listlessly flipping the pages and was instantly transfixed by what I saw there. It was the image of a beautiful preteen boy. The boy in the image was an 11 year old from Minnesota named Jacob Wetterling, and the headline associated with the image was horrifying.

At that moment, I found myself feverishly and almost involuntarily doing something the 14 year old me would rarely if ever do. That is, willingly reading a news article with my brain actually turned on. I did read it though, and wound up having enough time to read the whole thing.

As I read though the disturbing details of the case, I struggled to conceive of the full horror of it all. It was almost too much for my mind to process. I wondered to myself what kind of a monstrous human being would steal a little boy away from his family at gunpoint. I imagined that, if a man were evil enough to do such a thing, there were probably no limits to the cruelty he would subject the boy to, or the atrocities he would commit against him.

I tried to imagine what Jacob must have been going through while he was being abducted, the fear and helplessness he must have felt. I wondered where he was, was he alive, was in in pain, was he being raped and/or tortured, and would he ever see his family again? I wanted so badly to one day hear that he’d been found and that he was safe and okay. Of course, as the years that followed wore on, no news never came, until last weekend.

I will never forget sitting at the gate in the airport, reading that article, and the lasting impact it had on me. Like everyone else, I was horrified by what I’d read for all the aforementioned reasons but, for me, there was an extra type of horror that most people did not experience. For me, there was the inward horror of wondering if I might be just like the horrible man who stole Jacob.

It had only been in the previous year that I had rapidly developed an intense and undeniable sexual attraction to younger boys. At the time, my developing sexuality felt like a runaway train that had gone terribly off course, but I had no control over it’s direction and no idea where it was taking me. I was grappling with it and was bewildered by it, having no frame of reference for sexual attraction to children other than the occasional horrible news story such as the one I sat and read at Hartsfield International Airport that day .

As I read that article, I kept feeling compelled to draw my eye’s back to Jacob’s devastatingly handsome face. As much as I wanted not to be, I couldn’t deny I found him attractive, just as his abductor probably had. What did that mean for me though? Was I like this horrible man? Was I that evil too? Would I be capable of doing what he did some day? Could it really be coming to that?

Today, as a 41 year old man who has never even acted on his pedophilic attractions at all, I know that the answer to those questions is no. I know that I have no more in common with Danny Heinrich than the average straight male teleiophile does with Ted Bundy. As a kid, it took me quite a few years of walking all alone through some pretty dark places to figure that out though.

Now, having lived the majority of my life as an adult pedophile, I do not feel any kinship with Danny Heinrich just because he and I are basically attracted to the same people. I do not think other pedophiles should be compelled to see him as being “one of us” and, if they do, they speak for themselves on the matter. In fact, sorry if this is harsh but, I have absolutely no sympathy, empathy, or compassion for Mr Heinrich at all. He can be murdered in prison and rot in hell for all I care. The guy deserves whatever the hell it is that that happens to him, and probably a whole lot more.

I only wish the 41 year old me could go back in time and find the 14 year old me, so I could put my arm around him and let him know, on no uncertain terms, that he is not and never will be anything like the man who stole Jacob Wetterling.

Rest in peace, Jacob.

The post Jacob Wetterling’s Killer — Danny Heinrich, and the 14 Year Old Me. appeared first on Pedophiles About Pedophilia.