It's a strange thing to read this thread. I ignored it most of the day. I'm not sick exactly, readying it. But it definitely triggers a string of feelings. I wasn't groomed like treated nicely or praised. I was told that what we were doing was fun, that it's what people did, that it would be practice for sex with women when we were older. I was 10. The main person who raped me was, I think, 15 or 16. I remember crying with my face in a pillow while he did it, and while some other kids laughed. We were all scared shitless, I understand now. But then, I don't know what I thought, just that it wasn't fun. That it felt fucked up and weird. That it scared me. That it hurt. And confused me. For instance, I didn't know what "jizz" was. I didn't know what an orgasm was. I was too young. So I thought he was peeing on me, and I didn't understand why he was acting so weird. It just didn't make sense. That was when I was in fourth grade. In the winter. This was at my best friend's house. And I guess that my friend and his brother were raped first, and they were groomed, definitely, because they're the ones who got me into it, especially my friend's little brother, who was just crazy with what he did, what he put up with, what he said he liked. It's really hard to get away from a situation like that. I was scared. This guy was hurting me on a regular basis, raping me, and yet it was all supposed to be this great warm-up act for girls, and we were all supposed to be together in on it, although the German kid was the ringleader who did all the raping. I can't even begin to describe here how terrible this was, how it absolutely shot my life onto a different course, on that could very easily have killed me a hundred times over. And while I've never thought about what it would be like to be stranger-raped or whatever, I wonder if it would be easier in some ways because you'd know that you didn't ask for it, that it was forced on you, and so you're not so guilty and disgusting and creepy and sleazy. I know it wouldn't be easier. It would just be different. But let me tell you, the abuse I suffered was fucking miserable. And I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. This hurts too much to write or whatever. Hell.