Mother's little slut (How a boy paid for mistakes) by Alex 
An entry into the 1998 Ulysses Story Contest   Back.

My name is Andrew, and I am 14 years old.  At least, my name was Andrew.
Now I'm called Andrea.  There is a long, panful story that brought me to
this point.


As far back as I could remember, my mother was ravishing.  Long flowing
red hair, tall, voluptuous body.  And she made no attempt to hide her
sexuality... often flaunting herself around work or at parties, or even
at home with me and my sister Janice.


We lived in an apartment on the upper east side of Manhattan.  Mother
was an editor for a fashion magazine.  Growing up, mother told me my
father had run off before I was born, so it was up to her and Janice,
who is two years younger than me, to raise me.  Yes, she considered my
"little" sister to be my superior.  But even I didn't realize how much
so.


Mother always dressed in at least one piece of leather clothing.  Be it
tall shiny boots or a long leather raincoat, I always noticed she wore
something with the smooth yet cold feel of leather.  I never thought
much of it growing up, but thinking back I must admit I found it rather
arousing.  It was always clear she was in charge...  she had no problem
carrying herself in that way.  She would smoke from long cigarette
holders, even at company meetings where smoking was prohibited.  A
subtle display of her rejection of others trying to control her.


When I was younger, I found myself the target of subtle domination,
though I was too young to realize it of course.  She would let Janice
take a bath by herself, alone.  But whenever I took a bath, the door had
to be open so she or Janice could see me.  Afterward, I was required to
wear nothing at all for the rest of the evening, or mother's pink satin
robe.  She would tell me she didn't want me putting my filthy clothes
from school back on.  One night, with a drink in hand, she talked to
Janice about boys.  "Sweetie," she told my then 10 year old sibling,
"Men are weak... they are to be controlled, their spirit broken, and
they should be punished at all opportunities."  With that, she then
ordered me over in a mocking tone "come here, sissy" she would sing.  I
put my head down and sheepishly walked over.  "Watch Janice... this is
why men are weak" she continued, as she began stroking my penis with her
hand, covered in a brown leather glove she hadn't taken off from work.


"Ooooh, does my little sissy like that?  Does my small-dicked little man
like having his nice tiny cock rubbed by a big girl?"  she mocked.  At
first, I tried to smile and go along.  The hardness of my cock proved
that while I was embarrased, I was also excited.  It felt good to have
mother touching me that way.  She continued for a few moments before
looking at Janice with an evil grin.  Janice looked at me and began to
smile too.  Suddenly, mother squeezed my balls as tight as she could.
She watched me gasp, then scream, then cry.  All the while smiling and
staring at me.  She knew full well the neighbords wouldn't complain.
This high rise complex was known for keeping secrets.  She then leaned
in and whispered in my ear "If you don't like it, sissy, then why are
you so hard? Hmmmm? Remember, I am your mother and I will always control
your happiness."  I continued sobbing while Janice and mother looked at
each other and burst out laughing, ridiculing my agony as mother
squeezed tighter.


Over the next several months, mother found other subtle and direct forms
of psychological, as well as physical torture.  One day, I came home to
find by bedroom painted pink.  Well, that got rid of any chances I would
bring friends over.  When my underwear would need to be replaced, she
refused.  Saying it cost too much money (even though she made six
figures).  She would use the parental lockout on the TV, so all we could
watch was Lifetime network...the women's channel.  At dinner, she would
begin serving smaller portions... enough to eat like a lady, she
explained.  Often times, she would read aloud from books, discussing the
superior place in society women should hold. Every once in a while she
would look up and give me a dirty look, then shoot a knowing evil glance
to Janice, who then gave me the same disgusted face.


That all happened when I was 12.  That I could live with.  I just
thought to myself "six more years, and i'm outta here."


Nothing could prepare for what happened next.


On my 13th birthday, mother let me out of the house to play with my
friends.  She certainly had no interest in doing anything special for
the occasion.  I went to meet buddies of mine at the arcade.  As I
walked down the cold, dark New York City street, a van pulled up.  I
didn't see the driver, but a man raced up to me, grabbed me, covering my
mouth and threw me into the van.   I kicked and screamed, then felt a
prick in my arm.  I passed out within seconds.


When I woke up, I felt cold.  I couldn't see much... I smelled dampness
and mildew.  Then, a burst of light.  A match on a cigarette.  Suddenly
I heard a voice... "Happy Birthday Sissy."  It was mother, purring a
very scary greeting.  It appeared we were in some sort of empty
warehouse.


Before I could respond, my view was suddenly blocked my a large man in a
leather hood.  I screamed, he grabbed me, threw me to the ground,
slammed my head against the floor a few times, then dragged me back up
on my feet, restraining my arms and shoving me right into the face of my
mother, who was clad in her long black leather raincoat, boots and
gloves.


"How is mother's little slut?" she smiled.  "Since it's your 13th
birthday, you probably think you're a 'real man,' but how can you be if
you're still a virgin?  So we're going to fix that right now.  You're
going to get to do what no other man is allowed to... fuck me!  Oh, by
the way, there is one little catch..."


The leather hooded man stripped my pants from me, shoved my body toward
mother's leather-clad breasts, grabbed my shoulders, and shoved his cock
right into my ass.  No warning, no lubrication.  I screamed like my eyes
had just been ripped out.


"NOOO!!! MOMMY!!! WHYYYY!!!???"  I cried as he began pounding fast and
hard into my ass with no mercy, grunting louder and louder, scaring me
even more.  If he wasn't inside me at the time, I would have shit in
my pants.  As I sobbed and sobbed, mother did the strangest thing yet.
She whispered "Shhhh...." and put her finger on my mouth.  "It's ok...
Mommy knows you'rte a little faggot, and you need a nice hard cock.
Feel how hard your dick is getting, you little sissy fag?" she said
softly.  She then began rubbing my crotch with one hand, caressing my
face with the other.  I couldn't believe how psychotic she had become.
Offering an oscar-winning performance in acting sympathetic, while at
the same time orchestrating this sadistic raping.


But she was right... the harder he fucked my ass, the harder I got.
Which is when mother took a drag from her cigarette, then shoved my cock
into her pussy. "FUCK ME FAGGOT!!!" she yelled.  I continued crying, and
the man, who I had never met, starting making my ass bleed from the
fucking.  When I tried to look back at catch a glimpse of him, he would
yank on my hair and mother would smack me across the mouth with her
gloved hand.  Mother too fucked me quite hard... shoving my face into
her breasts, laughing in my ear, then riding me as she finally orgasmed.
And as that happened, she reached for something, pulled my head up and
smiled. "Happy birthday Andrew... or should I say, Andi!"  Before I
could make sense of her remark, she shoved a hankerchief full of
chloroform over my nose and mouth, jamming it as hard as she could while
the man held my head in place.


The next day, I woke up, in my bedroom.


Strapped down.  Naked.  Oh, and I had been castrated.


"Morning, Andi!  How's my new sister?" Janice smiled as she walked by,
getting dressed for school.  I began crying hysterically.  That brought
mother, wearing her black leather bra.  She walked right up and smacked
me as hard as she could right across the face.  "I am in no mood for
your shit today young lady!!!"  Young lady?  I finally got the nerve to
ask her what all this was about.  "Don't be stupid, Andi.  It's quite
simple.  I could never stand you as a boy.  I hate all men.  Your father
was the worst of all.  Right after we married,  I noticed he always
looked at women on the street in leather mini-skirts and jeans, even
commenting on them to me, as though I wanted to hear this complete
betrayal."


"So I went to work on my revenge.  I seduced his lawyer and forged the
marriage papers, giving me full control over his assets.  Then I drove
him crazy by wearing leather every day, and refusing all efforts by him
to have sex.  The more frustrated he got, the more I teased him.
Calling and leaving anonymous naughty messages at work, then  waiting
for him to race home so I could reject him. I then told him if he ever
came home late, I would divorce him right away, and take all the money.
He began drinking heavily... became obsessed with me in my leather, and
eventually, he jumped off the ledge.  Right there, sissy."


As she told the story, she stroked my hair, then grabbed it hard.
"That's why YOU have to suffer!!" she continued.  He quit on me, like
all men do, so now you must pay for your father's sins.  As of today,
you are Andi.  Short for Andrea.  You will go to the same private school
as Janice.  She, your classmates, and the teachers will all know to keep
constant watch on you.   See, since your dad died you've been constantly
depressed and suicidal and delussional.   At least, that's what everyone
will be told.  You will chauferred to and from home... the driver and
doorman know better than to question me.  Over the next few years, you
will be slowly given medications, so that by the time you are 18 you
will be well into your lifeime committment at a mental hosptial.  But
don't worry, mommy will come visit you, dressed in leather, along with
Janice. We will pretend to be concerned about you, but instead whisper
naughty things into your ear about how she and I spend your father's
inheritance, and I will teach her what erotic passion is all about."


As she undid my straps, she reminded me that she is far taller and
stronger than I am, so that I wouldn't consider running.  She then
politely asked "any questions?"


THE END

Back.