Men Rape

“Penetrate me now,” she yells at him at the top of her lungs. “Deeper, faster, stronger!”

He pleads with her to spare him. His tears mean nothing to her. "I am your aunt. I own you. You do what I say and no one gets harmed,” she warns him.

Years have sped by since the first of the fateful days struck him, yet he still feels the pain. His genitals hurt even now, when he thinks of how she devastated him.

He could still feel her hands grabbing his penis and pulling it into her rear. “Penetrate me” she demands him. The trail of blood her nails left still remains, dry yet vivid.

Her voice sounds nothing like that of the sweet caring aunt who was always good to him. It is demonic. It sounds possessed.

"I can see the boner. You like me, don’t you?“

“You are supposed to like this!.” “Men crave for me. You can’t say no to me.”

Every word she spoke cuts him like shards of glass-cold and sharp.

He always makes her day. Her voice still resonates along the walls. Same walls. Same cot. Same everything, after all these years.

Even on regular days, he could see her sitting over him like a sphinx, forcing herself on him, as he bled. He could vividly see her breasts bouncing above him brutally and her ungodly snigger echoing along.

His cries are always eclipsed by her want for more.

He still feels the cot rocking back and forth. With every push and pull, his conscience murders him. “I am to blame,” he blames himself. Her breath is still hot and hellish.

He could still feel the helpless depression she puts him whenever she uses him and throws him off, leaving him to bleed and weep in pain. He has lost count of how many times he has bled.

His manhood begs for mercy- Every. Single. Time.

While his friends enjoy PornHub, he stays in his room, fending off his assaulter even when she is not with him. There is always an imaginative, powerful, merciless assaulter trying to violate him every moment.

He keeps safeguarding himself, even when no one assaults him.

He loathes porn. He despises nudity. He keeps wrestling the inner demon she had unleashed within him.

Years have rolled by. Her family visits him. She goes forward in life, while he staggers behind. His career strikes the rock-bottom.

He is still the slave of her devilish lust.

The torture continues. “No one would believe you. Everyone would believe me” she warns him.

He could not tell his friends, for he had none. He could not tell his wife, for she had already termed him impotent. Little did she know the battle he had been going through!

The man in him had died many years ago.

What remains of him is the guilt, tormented conscience, lack of trust in women, fear, disgust, and sense of vulnerability.

Majority of these cases remain unreported, thanks to the society.

Pause.

Men are not the Knights you see in the movies. Men are meek, beautiful, flawed, and weak beings.

The pain is real. The aftermath is real. The depression that builds on is real.

When a woman is raped, the pain is understood. You and I can envisage the horrors of a woman’s rape, thanks to the power of words.

What happens to a man when he is raped?

What does he undergo? Which is more horrific? The physical pain? The destruction of self-respect? The traumatic aftermath? Loss of interest in sex?

Read this post again. Read the words.

Men get raped. It is real. It is unforgiving.