It started with some images on a Mongolian basket-weaving forum. Cute cartoon girls made by Japanese artists. Soon enough, I was hooked and the only thing I could get off to was "lolis".
Eventually my family found out. My dad smacked me upside the head and my mother cried until her face was red. Downstairs, I heard them yelling and shouting; throwing blame at each other in between bouts of screaming and crying. When they finally calmed down, I heard them making some phone calls in hushed voices.
The next day, the men in the van came for me. Big, hulking brutes who had no sympathy for me nor appreciation for my refined tastes. They grabbed me, wrapped me in a straight-jacket and hauled me away. I looked to my parents for help, but there was only disgust in their eyes.
"Get well soon," my father said as they dragged me outside.
I cried to myself "I'm free! I'm free!" as the men threw me into the white van and drove away.
I don't know how long we drove. It must have been several hours because when we arrived, we were far outside the city in a secluded facility in the forest. A sterile-looking sign out front calmly proclaimed we were entering "Paragon's Lolicon Treatment Center". I scoffed as we passed the gate of the high, barbed wire fence. "Treatment"?
Soon enough, we parked and they pulled me out of the van, carrying me in through the front door. The inside was bright; the white fluorescent lights filling the place with a near-scorching radiance. And the smell was even worse. The entire place reeked of disinfectant. The place was practically humid with the scent as the orderlies' shoes squeaked on the floor as they dragged me to my new home.
Tossed into a padded cell like some maniac, I sobbed quietly to myself as the reality of my fate became impossible to ignore. What had I ever done to anyone? All I wanted to do was enjoy 2D pictures of cunny and fap in my room. But society had failed me! Now branded a lunatic, I knew I would have to endure harsh treatment at the hands of these "paragons".
My heart dropped as the door opened once more, and I saw who was on the other side. A woman—a sickeningly-older woman—stepped inside my cell. Her appearance alone made me sick. Her auburn hair ran down past her shoulders; with strands of gray and maybe even white in one spot! Her face, practically a prune, had visible crow's feet, nearly visible lines on her forehead, and her thick lips looked nearly swollen with how indecent their size was. As my gaze followed downward to her breast, I had to choke back some vomit. This woman—this hag—had huge, heaving breasts. They hung low, bulging out from her chest and wobbling in a revolting pattern with each of her movements. Things did not improve as I looked lower. Her stomach was far from flat, showing telltale signs of pudge under the sweater she wore beneath her lab-coat. Her hips were the final straw; wide and bulging; her thighs were practically flared, barely contained by her jeans.
I couldn't take any more. This sight was simply too much for a lover of 2D lolis like myself. I turned away as she strode towards me.
"So, you must be Anon," she said in a clinical tone, kneeling next to me. "I've got your chart right here. Looks like you're a fan of lolis. Is that right?"
"It's nothing a hag like you would understand!" I spat back.
Obviously used to this, she gave me a calm expression and continued.
"I'm Dr. Briggs," she said with a smile. "And I'm going to cure you of your lolicon fetish."
"I can't be cured of good taste—" I began, but started back as Dr. Briggs ran her hand up my leg.
"Let's get you out of that jacket," she said, pulling in so close I could feel the vile heat of her breath. "On second thought, let's keep it on for now. I'll take care of everything."
With my arms still bound, Dr. Briggs began to remove my pants,