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NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 13 Oct 2008 23:31:36 -0500
From: Conn Pierre / Damaeus <damaeus@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} ST: I Wonder if My Name is Bobby (Fb Mb auth nc disc rape)
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Date: Tue, 14 Oct 2008 10:10:01 -0400
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ST: I Wonder if My Name is Bobby (Fb Mb auth nc disc rape)

Seven-year-old Bobby rode with his mother in the car to the
laundromat.  He liked to let his mind wander so everybody thought he
was in a dumb, retarded gaze, like he was daydreaming all the time.

When they arrived, they walked inside together.  Bobby watched as
Millie put the laundry basket full of clothes on a countertop, then
sorted the colors into three washing machines.

"Give me your clothes," said Millie to Bobby. "All of them!"

Immediately Bobby snapped to attention and speedily removed all his
clothes, then picked them up in a bundle and handed them to her.

Millie snatched the clothes away from Bobby and said, "Go sit over
there in the middle."  She pointed to a row of chairs to the side.

Naked Bobby walked obediently and to the row of chairs and sat right
in the middle chair, specifically as ordered. Not once did he dare
touch his penis!  His mother didn't even have to hint at him about
that.  Never having been specifically told not to beforehand, the
first God-damning admonishment was enough!  He had already known
full-well better than to do that before he was born! One day he just
wanted to piss his mother off and knew the best way to do that was to
pleasure himself in her Holy Presence.  And it worked, too, and it
made her yell at him.  So he got it good the first time, and that was
enough!  Bobby never touched his penis again for as long as he lived
unless he felt Hellish guilt and motherly torment about it!

As a result he got erections when he didn't want them, and got limp
when he didn't want to be, and gushed precum all the time whether he
was horny or not!  Bobby never thought boys should need to use
tampons, so he just let it run down his pantsleg and got used to it.

He sat quietly and did not move until he was ordered.  His penis was
hard leaking and wet, but he knew better than to wipe himself up
because he would have had to touch his penis to do it, and that was
forbidden!  He sat and the precum ran steadily out of his fat,
plum-sized dick head, his eight-inch boner, down the hard, veiny shaft
where it puddled under him and flowed behind his balls and through the
large opening formed by the aperture between ass cheeks.

He sat with his hands to each side of his well-muscled boy legs so his
mother could see them at all times.  His penis stood at such an angle
that the entire shaft was slick and shiny with precum, as was his
entire scrotum, front and back.  The huge, gaping hole at the top
burbled hot precum out 24/7 and 365, with no breaks.  The angrier
people acted toward him, the harder he got, and the more he came.
Nobody cared, either.  They just kept abusing until he was soaked in
his own hormones.

Bobby watched as his mother finished starting the washing machines.
She walked toward him angrily.  Expecting to be smacked in the face or
on his legs, Bobby ejaculated suddenly, making a huge mess all over
chest and belly.  He left the mess there for his mother to see.

Millie sat right next to Bobby.  The boy shifted in his seat a little.
The muscles of his legs worked under his smooth skin, revealing their
lines and musculature.  He was not nervous about her sitting close to
him.  He knew it didn't matter where she was.  All she has to do is
say it and he will come where she is to be slapped, smacked, hit or
punched, and where he got it was her business.  He didn't even have to
know better than to resist. They had him trained good.  They had his
psychology so fucked around that when he got racked, his legs flew
apart!  That way he's open to get it again, harder, just to be sure he
got it good the first, second, and third times, and as many times it
took for him to know what worthless shit he is!

At home Millie's boyfriend comes home and gives even less of a shit
for Bobby than anybody else does, using him as a footstool, a coffee
stirrer, and for just whatever, including making sure the kid's hole
got treated the way it's deserved!

"Sit still!" Millie hissed to Bobby as she suddenly began smacking his
left thigh as hard as she could with the palm of her hand.  Bobby
exposed as much of his thigh as he could for her to abuse until she
was through with it.

Bobby sat and felt his left leg stinging.  He didn't dare try to
soothe it or he'd get more from his mother.  He didn't cry, either. He
cried once when his feelings were hurt, and his mother said, "Dry it
up, now!"

He tried to hide his feelings after that, but that that still made
Millie even angrier.  She wanted a reaction out of him, so she kept
abusing until she got it.  Bobby now diverts his tears to his cock,
which makes him an incessant prefuck leaker for the rest of his life.

Millie sat for the next fifteen minutes with an angry scowl on her
face.  She kept glaring at Bobby every time she thought he might have
moved a little.  Three or four times she wasn't sure if Bobby had
really moved or not, so she spanked his legs again just in case he
had.  Bobby is to get away with nothing!  So she just punishes him
even when she looks away, since she knows he always tries to wait
until she's not looking before he does something sneaky behind her
back.  That's how she found out he was such a liar!  She left the
room, came back and everything was exactly like she'd left it.  That's
how she figured out he must have done something, then managed to fix
everything back like it was just so he wouldn't get caught.  That's
when she really let him have it!  Then she was always able to find
evidence of his evil, sneaky ways and lying behind her back!

Bobby sat in the chair with his feet dangling a few inches off the
floor.  His calves were muscled enough that he didn't need to be
standing or flexing to see both the inside and outside bulge of them,
from both the fronts and sides.  They were genetically blessed with
muscular boy-perfection, and his mother made sure they were exposed no
matter what he was wearing, if anything.

Bobby's cock remained rock-hard the entire time his mother sat next to
him.  Her aura of anger kept his warped and abused sexuality primed
for her abuse.

Other patrons came into the laundromat.  Most of them looked at
Bobby's naked body as he sat there obediently, hard and leaking
constantly, and ejaculating every few minutes when he thought he might
have moved and was expecting to be punished for it.

The sight was so strange that nobody bothered to say a word about it,
and that led to everyone thinking that everyone else must be insane
for not saying something.  People thought something should be done,
but not seeing anyone else make a move to rescue the boy caused
everyone to just sit still and stare at him mostly out of the corners
of their eyes at first, sneaking good looks whenever they thought the
boy or his mother might not see them.  But after seeing the little
sperm-gushing boy god's legs spanked every few minutes, sometimes
every few seconds, the mother didn't give a flamin' fuck what the
little shit thought.  She treated him like what he was: Shit!!  And
he's still that today and always will be, and that's final!

The only reason she ever got pregnant was because her 8-year-old bitch
daughter Tara fucked some Jew with her pony tails being used as reins
as he rode her from behind like a pony in heat!  After spewing out
Bobby, the girl ran off to be a whore and left Bobby with Millie.  Now
Bobby's 15-year-old mother is still out getting herself screwed every
night for the pleasure of it and Bobby is at home being abused all the
time by a pissed-off whore in heat!

Millie blames Bobby because Tara was attracted to some over-hot man
who got her slut of a daughter pregnant with a son who whose father is
as much of a hot ass as she is.  The little boy slut wrecked
everyone's life with his lies and seductive ways, so she gave him what
he was asking for, whether he wanted it or not.  He was forced down
her throat, so she did with it as she saw fit, and fuck him to Hell if
he gives a God-damned shit about any of it!

The three washing machines stopped running.  Millie said loudly to
Bobby, attracting everyone's attention to look directly at Bobby.
"Stay!"  She went to put the clothes in the dryers.

Bobby sat obediently.  Everyone stared at him openly and looked at
him, drinking in thirstily every detail of naked boyhood and his 13"
erection towering above and in front of his waist and heaving,
contoured abdomen.

"Bobby, come here!" Millie shouted.  Immediately Bobby sprang to his
feet.  About a dozen thick, slippery threads of clear fucksauce
trailed Bobby's body everywhere it had been touching the soaked chair.
The threads stretched and thinned behind Bobby as he came again,
expecting to be punished when he got to her by spewing jizz toward his
mother, the extra whiteness of his seed sliding along its wet and
precum-lubricated shaft and balls, and dropping to the floor with a
sloppy splat.

Everyone gawked at the seven-year-old boy as his fatless body flexed
and bent all the muscles it needed to get to its mother.  They saw
what a slut he really is when they all saw how far apart his butt
cheeks were spread without even having to touch them.  There was his
worn out hole, all open and exposed for everyone to see, both inside
and out.  The boy's hole was like a visual magnet for abuse.  Just
thinking about tormenting the kid made his hole pulse and throb, like
there was some kind of psychotic connection between your mind and his,
and he could hear it, just calling back at you to do whatever you
want, just make it hurt.  His butt was just begging for abuse, and
only throbbing and becoming even more disgusting-looking the longer it
went without getting what it needs, wants and must have, or else!

The longer that kid went without a good fucking the more trouble he
was.  The only thing that kept him in line was a good, long, stern
fucking on a regular and (important) surprise basis.  That was to keep
him in line.  Spankings were for when he got out of line, followed by
an outright rape to pull him back in line!  Might sound rough, but
that's just tough!  It works with him and keeps him out of line!  You
raise *your* kids the way you see fit!  Leave Millie to his!  Rape
works for Bobby to shape him up to Millie's expectations, and that's
all you need to know!

Everyone in the laundromat got a good mental copy of Bobby's seductive
body so they could go home and build their filthy fantasies around the
boy being abused in all kinds of horrific and disgusting ways!  In
every fantasy they built, Bobby acted as they wished, and for the
slightest infraction he was raped in the ass for being an utter
failure, a ruined boy, utterly destroyed in all matters of decency, a
Truth communicated to him in any manner You choose!

Bobby doesn't even need a name. All he needs is abuse.  He acts like
he's deaf because he won't come when you call him by name.  You must
yell at him, or man-handle him where you want him to be or he just
doesn't get it.  And if he accidentally does get it, he gets it so
wrong you have to punish him to make him understand and see his
mistake, then he's so stupid he still doesn't get it, and by that time
everyone is so mad at him for being a dumb ass they just can't stop
abusing him until they're all exhausted, then he's so horny he just
keeps the cycle of abuse going by being such a filthy slut!

They just figure the only reason any of them are having problems is
because he's done something behind their backs to mess everything up
just so he can get his pussy pushed even further over the line.  So
they just figured they'd turn him into a fuckhole.  That's the only
thing he cares about, anyway, is finding stranger things he can have
shoved up his cunt.  That way no matter what happens, just punish him
because he's bound to be the source of all your miseries!

Besides, he knows he's doing it.  He just does it to get under your
skin, then he thinks he's trying to make up for it by showing himself
off for you in all kinds of seductive ways when all you do is lose
money cuz you can't work since he's always scheming new ways to keep
you hard and horny all the time so you'll always want to rape him
again and again several times a day!  So by punishing him, he gets
what he needs to relieve whatever guilt he's feeling for whatever he
did wrong that he can't figure out. He figures he knows he musta done
*something* wrong to make everybody want to rape him, so he might as
well just get used to it cuz that's how it's gonna be whether he wants
or not!

They kept him high on pot all the time.  Drugged out when they needed
to go places so he would be easy to control and manipulate.  Getting
him high actually seems to make him behave exactly as you expect, as
if by magic!  But don't let him go without drugs too long or he'll
start acting crazy, angry and getting into trouble.  Best to keep him
baked out, oversexed, and fucked up.  That keeps him horny and
instantly responsive to your most depraved wants, as if he's in some
kind of unwitting mind control scheme you have going with him behind
his back, tricking him to doing to you whatever want, as if he falls
for every stupid trick there is, illustrating his utter stupidity at
every turn.  As if somehow he likes the way you treat him but doesn't
want to show it, and he is giving you your just reward just when he
happens to want you the most.  His thanks for being punished as you
see fit, whether he needs it or not.  As if just knowing that if
punishing him gives you pleasures, and that's what he wants to do is
make you happy, then he rewards you with nothing but pleasure just for
treating him however you want.  Nobody gives a shit.

Millie loaded all the clothes in the dryers.  "Get up, Bobby.  We're
going to eat."

Bobby hopped up from his chair and didn't complain at all about being
naked.  He went right out into the car in full view of everyone,
didn't cover himself at all, and he waited for his mother, obediently.



Damaeus / Conn Pierre
damaeus@yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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