"They... they had no idea who would buy me or what they would do with me. I'm 43. I'm not exactly in my prime. I overheard one of them say I had no niche. Which I later figured out meant that anything that crossed someone's depraved mind, I needed to be ready, willing and able to handle." John chuckled, and it was just on the edge of manic. "So. So I had to be prepared, Sherlock. Like some Deranged Boy Scout of Sex. Ok, not a particularly good analogy for you, thank you for not saying anything just then. That's their motto. Be prepared. And, boy was I ever prepared. They made sure it was done safely enough, so my health wouldn't be compromised. I suppose that's part of their contract, because it wasn't done for compassion's sake. That basically meant that people were tested first. That... things... were sanitized. Think of the most vile thing you can."
John stopped for a minute. "I'm serious about that, Sherlock. That's not rhetorical. I really want you to do it, because I don't want to have to say any of the details out loud, okay? I'm sorry, but this is the closest thing to a full purge I can manage right now, and I need your help. So go ahead and think of something. Something you suspect might even be a myth, because... who in their right mind would truly find that appealing. Don't talk, just think." John paused. Sherlock's eyes shifted slightly and John continued.
"Whatever it is you are thinking of right now... whatever it is... I've either done it or something close enough to have been declared a reasonable substitute. So. To say I might want to avoid anything in a sexual context with another man. Well. Everyone. Everything. Has a sexual context for me. If I'm to avoid having any sort of relationship with everyone I was programmed to serve, you might as well put me in solitary confinement. And don't be surprised if I wank while I'm in there, because I'll be assuming someone is watching me and getting off on it, and that's what I should be doing."
"At first, I fought it. Then it became expected, something I had to brace for and endure. Then, it became a routine. After that, it became so incorporated into my life that I actually started to missit. Not that I wanted it, mind you, I just... it felt, off, when it wasn't there. Maybe because it was the only contact I had? Then, then I started to want it. To go days without it made me feel... almost sick. By the end of my training period, it felt like my purpose. My identity. I was actively seeking it out." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I will-- there is no doubt in my mind-- die before I recover from all of it. Yes, the ones running the show happened to be men. Do you think I'm petty enough to blame just men for what amounted to training for the depravity of the entire human race? They picked something plausible to trade off on, for marketing purposes, and exposed me to anything they could think of, and they were a creative bunch. The worst part is, I still have the same sexual needs I have always had. You'd think since I hate it, the need would just go away. That I'd be very happy not putting anything in anyone and vice versa for quite some time. I don't know if it's the heathy part of me or the unhealthy part, but I still want to connect with someone who actually cares about me. I think it's the last bit of health, honestly, the part that wants to be cared about as a human instead of some fucktoy. You'd think it wouldn't be a sexual form of caring that I would still crave, you'd think it really wouldn't. But it is. My body is still connected to my soul. I do want to feel cared for. I need to feel loved. And there is only one way I feel capable of expressing it. I know there are other ways. I know it in my head. I don't know if sex is better than love, or worse, or different, or the same thing. I have no idea. I just know I don't want sex--right now, I think it's pretty safe to say-- ever. And I bet you do. And that is ... that is fucking hillarious, is what that is. Because I don't want it, but I need it. And you don't need it, but you want it." John looked down, and then forced himself to look directly at Sherlock.
FILL 19b/? 138 (John in slave auction)
"They... they had no idea who would buy me or what they would do with me. I'm 43. I'm not exactly in my prime. I overheard one of them say I had no niche. Which I later figured out meant that anything that crossed someone's depraved mind, I needed to be ready, willing and able to handle." John chuckled, and it was just on the edge of manic. "So. So I had to be prepared, Sherlock. Like some Deranged Boy Scout of Sex. Ok, not a particularly good analogy for you, thank you for not saying anything just then. That's their motto. Be prepared. And, boy was I ever prepared. They made sure it was done safely enough, so my health wouldn't be compromised. I suppose that's part of their contract, because it wasn't done for compassion's sake. That basically meant that people were tested first. That... things... were sanitized. Think of the most vile thing you can."
John stopped for a minute. "I'm serious about that, Sherlock. That's not rhetorical. I really want you to do it, because I don't want to have to say any of the details out loud, okay? I'm sorry, but this is the closest thing to a full purge I can manage right now, and I need your help. So go ahead and think of something. Something you suspect might even be a myth, because... who in their right mind would truly find that appealing. Don't talk, just think." John paused. Sherlock's eyes shifted slightly and John continued.
"Whatever it is you are thinking of right now... whatever it is... I've either done it or something close enough to have been declared a reasonable substitute. So. To say I might want to avoid anything in a sexual context with another man. Well. Everyone. Everything. Has a sexual context for me. If I'm to avoid having any sort of relationship with everyone I was programmed to serve, you might as well put me in solitary confinement. And don't be surprised if I wank while I'm in there, because I'll be assuming someone is watching me and getting off on it, and that's what I should be doing."
"At first, I fought it. Then it became expected, something I had to brace for and endure. Then, it became a routine. After that, it became so incorporated into my life that I actually started to missit. Not that I wanted it, mind you, I just... it felt, off, when it wasn't there. Maybe because it was the only contact I had? Then, then I started to want it. To go days without it made me feel... almost sick. By the end of my training period, it felt like my purpose. My identity. I was actively seeking it out." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I will-- there is no doubt in my mind-- die before I recover from all of it. Yes, the ones running the show happened to be men. Do you think I'm petty enough to blame just men for what amounted to training for the depravity of the entire human race? They picked something plausible to trade off on, for marketing purposes, and exposed me to anything they could think of, and they were a creative bunch. The worst part is, I still have the same sexual needs I have always had. You'd think since I hate it, the need would just go away. That I'd be very happy not putting anything in anyone and vice versa for quite some time. I don't know if it's the heathy part of me or the unhealthy part, but I still want to connect with someone who actually cares about me. I think it's the last bit of health, honestly, the part that wants to be cared about as a human instead of some fucktoy. You'd think it wouldn't be a sexual form of caring that I would still crave, you'd think it really wouldn't. But it is. My body is still connected to my soul. I do want to feel cared for. I need to feel loved. And there is only one way I feel capable of expressing it. I know there are other ways. I know it in my head. I don't know if sex is better than love, or worse, or different, or the same thing. I have no idea. I just know I don't want sex--right now, I think it's pretty safe to say-- ever. And I bet you do. And that is ... that is fucking hillarious, is what that is. Because I don't want it, but I need it. And you don't need it, but you want it." John looked down, and then forced himself to look directly at Sherlock.