Copyright © 1997 and 2002, Phil Phantom

I am a mother with a problem child in that my fourteen-year-old son has a shit fetish. I know all kids go through that stage, but he didn't get through and has it bad. He has become a major problem, because he won't behave himself or hide his fetish. He has suffered every type of punishment there is and is currently grounded until the year 2034, but he refuses to submit to potty training and will not leave the tits in our family alone.

I have had fourteen years of taking shit off that boy, so shit is not much of a problem. I think mothers have a built-in immunity which has served me well, but my breasts are not immune to pain. I have seriously considered radical breast reduction as a partial solution, but that would only reduce twenty percent of the breasts in the family, and I have seriously considered a son reduction by carting his breast obsessed ass and his shit to an all-boy academy of some sort. I wish he had a father that would beat the crap out of him.

My mother now lives with us, and she serves as father, but he can now take her in three out of four matches. When she loses, her jugs suffer and she endures the most awful sexual abuse. John has three older sisters, all heavy in the chest and tired of getting their tits mauled. They have all worked out deals with him that a mother or a grandmother can't even consider or know about. I just know he isn't mauling them any longer, is no longer shitting all over the place, and never seems to need the services of a toilet.

I don't even want to know what deal they had to make with the devil, and he is a nasty little devil. His shit fetish is just the tip of his nastiness, the part that assaults the senses, but his sexual interests run deep, dark, twisted, and are full of nasty kinks. Perversion is his passion and his black decor bedroom is a monument to perverse vulgarity with a shrine to Satan.

He seems very happy with the deals he has made with twisted sisters, and none of them want to discuss it. I hate having to use my imagination, because I imagine the wickedest things. I have spent many hours in his macabre museum getting an education. I'm not the only one. We are all free to enter, but we must not disturb anything there. Everything must be exactly as he left it or there is Hell to pay. He supports education, and his library is a lending library. Just leave a 3 x 5 card with your name and what you borrowed in the place that it was borrowed from. We have all been well educated. I do believe they would all suffer the wickedest things rather than suffer his breast assaults. He knows how to hurt a girl.

Large breasts are like carrying big balls around on the chest. I don't see how a punch in the balls or a punch in the breast could hurt any less or be that different. If a man had big balls on his chest and a sneak attack puncher, pincher, twister, grabber, squeezer, or biter under the same roof, he just might consider getting a ball reduction.

I used to be able to handle John, and so could my mother. Now, we have to team up, but once we have him under control, then what. Anything we do, he loves. I do believe he would pay two woman to spank him, take a belt to him, rough him up, even beat him without let-up. He has us thinking in terms of desparate measures, because nothing less seems to faze him.

The girls are staying out of it. They won't help subdue him, and they won't help either of us get free from him. When he has Mom at his mercy, they will assist him in humiliating her and sexually abusing her. Whatever deal they have won't allow them to get involved in any way except to assist with Grandma. Evidently, they won't lift a finger against me, and I do thank god for that. I just wish they were as devoted to my mother. We get sympathy, but that's all we get, and he just keeps on getting bigger and stronger and tougher and more confident each day.

I know you must be thinking this is bullshit, that no fourteen-year-old boy could take on five older females, but let me assure you, he did, and he took us on and took us down one at a time until he got us down to two battle weary woman who didn't want to fight anymore and surrender was unthinkable. We did not want to involve the authorities, but we were considering that as a last ditch alternative after we had to abandon the boys academy. He had to be willing to go, and he had to be potty trained. He wasn't.

Before I drew my mother into this mess, I begged Patty to return home to help me. She was living in the dorm at a local college, but she could commute from home. He had just turned thirteen when she came back. Big sister, Patty, straightened his shit right out - until she knelt and accepted his collar, and had the rings placed in her nipples. After that, Patty was no help and just one more mouth to feed. He seemed to be feeding it, because we stopped dealing with his shit.

I panicked when Patty fell under the spell. I did not see that ever happening. In a panic, I called Mom. She said she'd drive down and have that little devil straightened out in five minutes. I said, "Don't drive, fly, my treat."

In the time it took her to drive, another sister knelt and took her collar and rings. Janet, also a college student but already living at home in her freshman year, did not seem to be the slightest affected by John and his sick shit. She could dish it out as well as take it, a pretty thing, but a tough pretty thing. Janet simply was not a kneeler, and Janet took no shit from nobody, and I'd see cows grazing on the moon before I would ever see rings through Janet's sensitive nipples - I thought.

When Mom arrived, she waded into a fight for life to stop John from taking my little Dee Dee, then a high school junior, my baby, and John was winning my baby. I would not stand for it. My baby would not be kneeling for any little monster sent from Hell. Mom, god bless her, waded in and ripped that little bastard a new ass.

Mom did exactly what she said she'd do, and much more. She redecorated his room in lively colors. She put all the filth in several trash bags that were to be hauled directly to the dump. She could not get Patty or Janet to lift one finger, remove a collar, or even discuss wearing tops or removing rings. She said to hell with them and we went about our work. We did make Dee Dee help, but she wanted nothing to do with helping. She was not an adult. She had to.

When John came home and saw what we had done, he went berzerk and destroyed some old lamps and tables with a bat. He did little real damage, but scared the hell out of everyone, but especially Mom. I warned her. I told her we shouldn't do that. We all told her. Now, she knew, and it was she who knelt and said she was sorry and that we would put it all back exactly as it was. He said, "You're fuckin'-A right you will, BITCH!" Then took out his dick and pissed in her face.

We had help putting it all back, and Mom got a much better education in the putting back. When John came home from school, he looked over the room like a sergeant inspecting a cadet's room. All five of us watched. He made a few minor adjustments, but all in all, he was impressed with the job - not bad - not bad at all.

He came up to Mom and place the back of his hand on her cheek, smiled, and said, "You really are a pretty woman. I find myself very attratced to the mature, full-figured female with clasic beauty and soft skin. I have always admired your urtra soft white skin and your pendulous breasts. You are a gorgeous cunt, a fucking great looking bitch, and you can control me so well. You are one strong and tough bitch. You should move in with us. Mom needs your help. I am out to make her my sex slave and your baby girl doesn't want to be my sex slave. Her needs her mommy. I do think you could straighten me out Grandma. Just shave this fucking cunt and you'll straightn out my dick."

Have you ever seen a lioness get her belly rubbed by a bad boy. We did. That hand started at her cheek but kept moving as he opened her dress all the way down the front until his hand ended up inside her panties with her bra opened up and off her jugs. He fingered her for a bit, then drew two slimy wet fingers out and put them in her mouth. She sucked while he played roughly with her tits.

I have never seen anything like that in my life. Afterward, Mom took me aside, and while restoring her dress, said, "I'm moving in. This is much more serious than I thought. This is very serious. That boy has powers that come straight from Satan himself. This is serious, very serious."

At that same gathering, we saw Dee Dee undergo the transformation. We saw the actual ceremony, which was done in the nude. He first shaved her pussy, then ringed her clit. He then ringed the nipples. She then knelt to receive her collar. We were not aware that there were clit rings or that he did his own ringing. He also did nothing to numb the area, not even an ice cube. She suffered the pain, and the clit ring was so god awful to watch, but Dee Dee sufferend through all of it and joined the others in being absolutely no help.

That was how he took on five, but the two mature adults fought him at every turn, tooth and nail, for over a year. For much of that time, he stood no chance, but we had to watch out for each other, because alone, we were no match after he turned fourteen. Even then, we fought hard battles. The ones Mom had to fight alone, she had to fight against four. Unfortunately, I had a job and could not always be there for her. She was very strong when she first arrived, but was battle weary after one month. A year later, she was hardly in the fight at all.

Poor Mom simply could not take anymore. I felt so badly for her. I wanted her to leave, but lived in fear that she might. If she left, which she could do, I was so screwed. I didn't even want to think about it. When we stopped getting any sympathy from the girls, and they seemed amused by our predicament, that was when I felt the walls closing in and began thinking about dialing 911 and just crying, "HELP US!"

We talked about it a great deal, but we could not bring ourselves to admit failing that badly, or face the humiliation that would come with exposure. If anyone ever knew what filth we allowed to remain in our home, or what we allowed those girls to suffer, we knew we would be called before a jury of our peers and be roasted alive. We didn't think anyone would understand, but they don't know John. He does have powers. He simply can't be stopped, or swayed, or threatened. He loved the punishments. He wanted to be grounded. The home was tittieville. Pussyville, too, I should imagine.

One Saturday morning, the girls all came to breakfast wearing only panties, but they acted like they weren't. John was all smiles as me and Mom looked at six ringed breasts in perfect condition, on display, without drawing any fire, and no undue attention from John, as though he had his fill of those breasts, and those breasts may as well have been feet. If that weren't enough, they were all wearing panties, only panties, walking proud and sexy, and being sweet to John - smiling, exchanging morning pleasantries, giving him a kiss on the lips - good kisses I might add. They were acting like his harem.

Mom and I just sat in stunned disbelief, trying to understand what this all meant, knowing that whatever it meant opened a new chapter with new challenges in a war story where we lost every battle. This could not have come at a worse time, because my mother had just told me that she simply can not fight John any longer. She said she wouldn't leave me, but she also said she couldn't help me. She said she would stay and suffer my fate with me, or support me if I chose to go to the authorities. She essentially surrendered but hadn't informed John.

We had some time alone while preparing the breakfast and time to speculate what John might do to her if she didn't lift a finger to stop him, which was what she said she was resolved to do - nothing. I presented her with what-if John actions where doing nothing seemed unthinkable. To my surprise, she still said nothing to every what-if until I was left with the big what-if, the fucking what-if that I never wanted to even think about for me or my mom, only to hear her say she would do nothing even then.

I could not believe what I was hearing. She simply could not mean that, but she assured me she did mean that, had given it a great deal of thought, and decided she could do nothing. She went on to make me promise not to come to her aid under any circumstances. She did not want me fighting her battles that she was now surrendered to. I was to stay out of it, just as the girls were. She said she would not help me help her, so there was no point in me fighting John by myself.

This was terrible news, but at least she wasn't leaving me to face him alone. I was screwed, but I could not do nothing. What he got from me he'd have to fight for and take every time until I took my last breath. No way would I ever surrender and become his damn sex slave. She said she understood, but she had no fight left in her. Her hope was that by giving him anything he wanted, he might leave his resisting mother alone. I didn't believe that for one second. I was the grand prize for a boy like John, dare I say mother fucker, because that is the kind of boy he is, and I might add nastly mother fucker with powers - a true devil child.

Out of frustration and great anxiety, I said something to my dear mother I never thought I'd say, "Mom, he will fuck you in the ass and piss in your face. Will you still do nothing?"

She placed her hand on my face and smiled, then said, "In that case, I will do something." I thought, finally. But she said, "I will close my mouth and hold my breath while he is pissing. Does that make you feel better?"

No it didn't, and I could not see how she could be so calm and aloof. It was like the decision to stop fighting took the weight of the world off her shoulders, and she was at peace with anything he might do - anything. I saw that same calm come to each daughter that stopped fighting. Mom looked so at peace with the whole situation. I did envy her that peace. She was resigned to having sex with John, and seemed to be looking forward to that and a bellyful of his shit, because you did not get one without the other.