PASS THE TISSUES; WE ALL HAVE PARENT ISSUES

 Hello Malpals! Recently Julie of Strict Julie Spanks wrote a post touching on some of her daddy issues, and Lion of the Male Chastity Journal posted his thoughts on mommy/daddy issues on his own blog. As today is my mum's birthday I thought I could share a little of my own thoughts on the topic.

First, an update on my health situation. I haven't gained or lost any body parts since my last post. The parts I have remained more or less the same size, save for one vital organ; I was feeling very horny after sleeping for the best part of five days! I've heard the orgasm referred to as "la petite mort," or "little death." The term generally refers to the brief feeling of euphoria and weakening of consciousness that we experience after cumming. I've also heard of the phrase being linked with the shame you can feel after achieving orgasm. I used to feel that, sometimes, in my late teens and early twenties (as I've said before, I was a very late starter!). Professional downer Arthur Schopenhauer said "directly after copulation the devil's laughter is heard." It's probably worth noting that the syphilitic misery-guts was shagging a 19 year old dancer when he was in his mid-thirties, so your mileage may vary!

Arthur Schopenhauer, notable grouch and creator of the Hedgehog's Dilemma

For me it has a different connotation; sometimes I orgasm and it's fine, if a little anto-climactic, for want of a better term. Other times it will feel like all the oxygen has left my lungs and I'm left gasping for breath. I sometimes put on my CPAP machine before tossing one off; other times I find myself scrambling for it afterwards. It's concerning, but not enough to stop me from jacking it. I may be smart in some ways, but I still let my stupid animal brain do a lot of the driving. I've definitely had a couple of the latter type of climax early this week, but sometimes you just have to crank one out, you know?

As I was saying, the only thing that's changed medically is that the weird blemish on my chest has burst again, expelling blood and clear discharge. The last time this happened the nurse on duty applied a dressing to it. Simple fix! This time, Sue was on duty. I've mentioned before that I consider her to be lazy and uninterested, bordering on negligent. She said it would be best for the fresh air to get to it, and that a dressing would only serve to hold the bacteria in place. I'm no medic, but I'd have thought an open wound, however small, would be better dressed, especially on a patient who is taking blood thinners. Maybe an anti-bacterial cream could be used if not a dressing? Some sort of action? But she's the medical professional, what can I do? Besides report her and the home to adult social care services, which, guess what, I'm trying to do, though they don't make it easy!

Also worth noting; my occupational therapist took away the fancy support pillows she had lent me! They've made a huge difference to my posture, and she is going to find a way for me to get to use some somehow. She's also very displeased with the level of care the home are providing, and has been making waves behind the scenes, apparently! She seems like a good ally; between us I'll soon be back on my feet, kicking ass and taking names! Well, that's what I'm hoping, anyway!

Anyway, back to my mother and her birthday! I've read that gift giving is some people's "love language," and I think I've written before that I think it's one of mine. My parents are hard to shop for; they're not drinkers or collectors and they've dabbled a lot in specific hobbies but it's tough to know what they'll enjoy. I used to be good at finding DVDs for movies and TV shows I thought they'd enjoy, but Dad downloads everything for them now.

We play a lot of board games, and my mum really enjoys the Fast & Furious movies, as every right thinking person should. So I was delighted to find out that there was a Fast & Furious board game available in the US but not over here, so I can surprise her with that on her next visit on Monday.

Looks to be just as exhilarating as the movies!

The game sounds simple enough to have fun with, and is cooperative, which is a plus too. There are three modes of play, but basically you're trying to complete an objective before your playing pieces reach the end of the board. The drivers can climb out of their vehicles and leap from roof to roof. Reviews say it does a good job of capturing the dumb excitement of the movies' signature road wars, so that's good!

I also bought a wood-effect elephant that can go in my parents' garden; they've been buying a lot of garden decorations and she likes elephants. One Mother's Day I bought her a figure of two elephants whose trunks intertwined to make a heart. Another time I sponsored an elephant in her name for a year at a local zoo. The elephant I got her this time looks like this:

What animal is grey with four legs, big ears and a trunk? A mouse going on holiday!

It isn't especially large, but they have a relatively small garden. I think she'll like it!

I also e-mailed a voucher for her and my dad to spend two hours axe-throwing at an indoor range near where they live. It's an early Father's Day gift as well. They both used to do a lot of field archery, and it's something they've never done before. They both sounded pretty pleased when they saw it (I was on the phone with them as Mum read the e-mail).

We have a pretty chill relationship now that we live separately and I've bottomed out of regular society. It wasn't always that way. I've mentioned before that I was ridiculously scared of letting my parents, and especially my mother, down in any way. I stuck with activities I derived no pleasure on for years because I didn't want to seem ungrateful or ill-mannered. I never seemed to be doing well enough in school, despite getting high grades and embarrassingly glowing reports from virtually every teacher.

Looking back on my childhood it always feels cold. I spent a lot of time reading, and a lot of time frustrated that I couldn't communicate with my parents, or that I didn't feel listened to. My parents both came from fairly large families; and my dad was actually adopted, so maybe that has something to do with it. I remember being in my early twenties and queuing with my parents to see a play at a theatre out of town. Some woman waved at my dad and said hello, he returned the greeting. My mum pointed at the group they were with and told me they were dad's "real family." I think I must have looked suitably flummoxed as she went on to ask "You did know he was adopted, didn't you?" I didn't ! As I write this I realise my brother might still not know. So yeah, our family was close, but it always felt kind of superficial.

Neither of my parents really took an interest in any sort of love life or interest in the fairer sex I had beyond teasing me about my first (and near enough only!) girlfriend, when I was five. I have a vague memory of them being annoyed that I'd written, but never sent, a love letter to a girl in the year above when I was eleven or so. They didn't understand why I'd keep those feelings to myself. Years later there was a blow up when my dad thought I'd been looking at porn on the family computer. Some time over the summer after I cut myself at university (or rather, just adjacent to it!) Mum told me a distant uncle (he lived in the same town, we just never really talked!) asked if I was gay after they told them about my mental health breakdown. She told me "We told him you weren't, as far as we knew....?" I reassured her I wasn't. I didn't tell her I was psychologically unequipped to handle any real female intimacy either. Probably still am!

All of this is to say; when I first started looking at pornography, as I've said before, it was an extension of reading true accounts of humiliation that I'd read about online. I sought out images and videos of women being spanked, or gunged, or diapered. I also watched a lot of jerk off instruction/encouragement videos. None of these videos were ever particularly graphic or featured vaginal penetration. Any that did I'd stop watching! A lot of the JOI/JOE videos featured roleplay where the woman would pretend to be in a power position: your boss, teacher, babysitter, or, yes, even your mom! One of my favourite diaper models, Pampered Penny, gradually switched from mainly being diapered or diapering other pretty young women, to instruction/encouragement/humiliation videos, where she would address the camera directly, gently but firmly making the viewer do all sorts of humiliating things, often involving diapers, but not always. She now ruby updates two distinct clips4sale studios, one focused on diaper play, one focused on other taboo subjects, often Mommy-dom!

Uh oh, Mommy's looking pissed!

So yeah, the concept of a hot "mommy" figure taking an interest in a guy's sex life, to the point of forcing him to jack off, or look at her naked, or any number of variants on the theme is appealing to me. It's hot to see a powerful woman give a shit about this stuff. However, I have no sexual feelings towards my actual mother, or any desire to do any of the humiliating shit prescribed in these videos in real life. I think it's precisely BECAUSE I don't have the desire that these videos appeal. Another excellent virtual mommy is Mistress T, who has a whole load of videos in which she humiliates her worthless, small-penis, premature-ejaculator of a son, coaching him exactly how to jerk off. I don't feel like these labels apply to me, but it's nice to think about this woman taking control, and knowing there are guys who really want to please her as she instructs.

I get that it's a weird thing to fixate on, but I have no desire to actually BE the target of these confident, sexual women's attention. If anything I'd love to be the one who humiliates them back; Penny is excellent in this regard, when she commits to being humiliated she really commits! And there's nothing I like more than seeing a domme get a taste of her own medicine.

I do like the idea of being a daddy-dom. When I watch a video of one woman humiliating or punishing another, I always want to take the place of the top, and judge their performance by the reactions of the bottom and the chemistry they share. Way back on my second post I mentioned Mommydom and Strict Julie commented:

While not a strict Freudian, I think a lot of sexual feelings come from Mummy for the boys and Daddy for the girls. But I think you've mislead me, young man, into thinking you are less of a sub than you actually are, and would only reluctantly, to please me really, come across my knee. Naughty, naughty.

She was wrong, as she often is (just read any of the comments on her political thinkpieces for proof!), but I saw why she could come to that conclusion, especially given how she expects men to bend to her will! I briefly surmised what I elaborated on here, and she apologised for mis-kinking me. She's the best!

So that's my take on faux-mommies; don't want one, but like the sexy women who know what they want and are prepared to take control. So what of daddies?

Well, I certainly don't want one, but would I want to be one? Well, yeah, absolutely, for the right girl (or girls!)! I'm not a fan of adult babies, but there is something very sexy about being a quasi-caretaker, especially for a girl who doesn't mind being humiliated or objectified a little. A grown woman acting like a baby is not sexy to me. But a grown woman made to take interest in childish things? Yes please! My best example of this to hand is my story I wrote for Julie wherein she agrees to learn the recorder to please her husband. It remains very popular, relatively speaking. I find nothing arousing about a grown woman wanting to learn the recorder, and practicing it every day for a month enthusiastically of her own volition. I'd go so far as to say it would be something of a turn -off! The humiliation and reluctance is what does it for me.

Ironically, at this point I have two long-running playmates on r/DirtyPenPals. I'm a daddy of sorts to both of them. One of them calls me Daddy, the other calls me Tanks, but in our scenes they are both pretty much dependent on me to look after them. I've never gone further with either of them than a magic wand stimulating them through their diapers. Neither of them seem that bothered. Neither am I. I find other ways to indulge and entertain them. I'm almost profoundly lonely, and imagining snuggling up to a smart, funny woman on the couch or pretending to arrange a birthday party for a friendly and grateful AB is the closest thing I have to friendship outside of the mutual interest we have for each other in our little blogosphere here.

Fair warning, though: if I ever do track down that elusive Ms Right then all bets are off!

Peace!

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