Message-ID: <7434eli$9801181713@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: mommy's _good_ little girl Subject: Bonding Tabatha (1/2) by Phil Phantom Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <34C11EE7.67E1@hotmail.com> PART ONE OF TWO The following story is an uncensored sexual fantasy involving practices that are illegal, immoral, socially unacceptable, and messy. Only mature adults with a firm grasp on reality should venture further. This story promotes nothing, and nothing in this story should be taken seriously. Readers are cautioned not to attempt any of these acts without professional guidance and a net. If you are underage, stand, move away from the console, and unplug the computer. Reading stories like this can make you go blind. If you are a servant of the Lord, looking for sinners to convert, study this story and memorize it. This will help you recognize sinners when you see them. Good luck, and avoid mirrors! Phil Phantom "Bonding Tabatha" (Part one of two) By Phil Phantom Once upon a time, in a land of many freeways, a mother passed away and another took her place--real fast. * * * Dorothy drove the car while Craig organized his briefcase on the seat between them. Los Angeles International Airport was ten minutes away. They were early, so she didn't fight the freeway traffic; instead, she fought her nerves. "Craig, I don't like this. I don't like this one bit. You can't leave me alone with those kids this soon, especially not for two whole days." "What are you talking about, Dorothy? You've already got those boys calling you Mommy. I can't believe a fifteen-year-old girl has you all tied in knots." "Damnit, Craig, she knows. Having me move in right after we scattered her mother's ashes was a big mistake. Having me do the scattering in front of those kids was sick. It was stupid, just plain stupid. I think you want to get caught. I think you're one of those criminals who commits a crime, then subconsciously leave clues so you can be brought to justice. I'm not that way, and I don't like playing this dangerous game." "Relax, will ya? I'm not trying to get caught. The plan worked. No one outside the family suspects foul play. She got sick and her heart gave out. The insurance company paid the death claim. Her ashes are spread to the four winds. We can't get caught regardless of anyone's suspicions. The wicked witch is dead, Dorothy, and as far as the kids are concerned, you get all the credit." "Bullshit, I get all the blame." "Credit, Dorothy. I staged that performance so the shock factor will work on thier minds. When the shock wears off, they'll see you as the hero. I know my kids, Dorothy. Don't let their sad faces and tears fool you. The bitch was not loved. We'll, maybe Tabatha loved her in a sentimental way, but she made Tabatha's life hell, too. Can you imagine a girl with a cute body like Tabatha's having to live and dress like a cloistered nun? She's itching to show us her stuff, and she'll have you to thank when she finally comes around. She's weakening; I can tell." "Yeah, well it's been two weeks and we haven't seen shit yet. She's as cold and uptight as she was on that hill, even more so. You should see the way she looks at me when I walk around the house in my panties. If looks could kill..." "Yeah, but it won over the boys, just like I said. One look at those magnificent hooters of yours and they were calling you Mommy." "Yes, but they're not treating me like their mommy, unless you think nursing on me counts. I feel like a damned cow, a dry cow, a juvenile pacifier with a twat they can wash their grubby little hands in. I wanted a family, kids that loved me and called me Mom because they think of me as their mom. I especially wanted a daughter. You said we'd have a real family life, but the more I follow your orders, the more I am perceived as a whore that likes running around half naked." "Hey, that's the kind of mother those kids want after Gretchen. Trust me, Dorothy, even Tabatha wants you to be that way. She'll warm to you, but you have to let her know who's boss. Take charge of her. If she so much as looks cross-eyed at you, yank her pants down and blister her cute little fanny for her. Do it in front of her brothers, and you'll be an even bigger hero. Tie Tabatha to her bed and let them have at her, and they'll erect a monument to you in the back yard." "Honestly, Craig, I see right through you. You just want me to warm her up for you, do your dirty work. You just want to screw the kid." "The kid needs screwing. She's been asking for it since her tits popped out. Who can screw the little bitch better than me?" "Well, you finally came out and said it. You know, I always suspected Tabatha was the reason you wanted Gretchen dead and not just divorced." "I had many reasons for wanting her dead. Tabatha's tight little pussy was one, yes. You and three-hundred thousand dollars to treat you right were the top two, in that order. Don't ever forget that, darling." "I know. Don't worry. I won't get in your way. I may even hold her legs open for you if she gives me any more shit." "If you take any shit off that kid, you're a fool. I'm going to be terribly disappointed in you if I return from this trip and Tabatha doesn't run naked into my arms and cry, "Oh, Daddy, you're home. Let me suck your dick, then you can butt-fuck me while Mommy eats my pussy." "You're in for a big disappointment. If anything she'll cry, 'Daddy, you're home. Look, Mommy taught me how to eat her pussy. Wanna watch?'" The car pulled to the curb before the check-in area. Craig smiled while getting out and said, "I would not be disappointed if you managed that. Work on her. If you want to make me happy, don't take any shit, and be extra nice to my boys." "You're not going to be happy until the boys are fucking me, and you are fucking Tabatha." "I'm not going to be happy until we are one big happy fucking family. We also need a young Swedish maid and a big fluffy dog with a foot-long cock. Tabatha always wanted a dog. She'll get one. Boy, will she get one. I can't wait to get that girl some proper breeding." "I don't know why that shocks me, but it does." "Nothing shocks you, Dorothy. You're a slut, and I love you for it. See you on Wednesday." They kissed, and Dorothy drove away with a great deal on her mind. Craig exerted a tremendous influence over her. He turned her nursing skills to killing. He turned her normally modest demeanor to that more fitting a shameless slut. He had her nursing teenage boys at her double "D" breasts with two-inch nipples, and now he had her thinking of ways to seduce a young, innocent virgin. He wanted to turn little Tabatha into a plaything to amuse his friends at their wild parties. Dorothy knew she would do all in her power to see that Craig was not disappointed; still, the task of training Tabatha would fall on her, and the task would be a difficult one for her. Dorothy had strong maternal instincts, and she was a professional nurse, dedicated to healing people's wounds, not inflicting them, physical or mental. Tabatha was already terribly wounded, suffering a deep loss. Tabatha was the daughter Dorothy always dreamed of having. She wanted a living doll to dress up, talk to, show off, and would spend hours brushing Tabatha's silky, long brown hair, doing her makeup, and teaching her how to attract male attention while preserving her modesty and lady-like decorum. Craig had Dorothy thinking about shaving Tabatha's pussy, teaching her how to shoot bare beavers, how to present her loins for mounting by a dog, how to suck cock and eat pussy--her father's cock and his whore's pussy. Though he called her, darling, Dorothy thought of herself as his whore, especially after standing on that windy hill in a light, short dress with no panties, scattering the children's mother while her dress blew up around her waist, facing the kids, letting the wind have its way with her dress, pouring the silty ash in a slow stream over her shaved and naked pussy, sopping wet from their recent fuck, allowing the ash to swirl though her legs and stick to the wetness of her inner thighs and vagina, held open by the fingers of her left hand, then pouring the last in her palm and stuffing it up her twat, exactly as Craig wanted their symbolic private ceremony to be: the end of one mother, the rise of another. He never spoke of marriage. She was his nurse whore, and more and more, he treated her that way. More and more, Dorothy succumbed to the treatment. When they returned from the hill with four somber kids, he took her straight to the bedroom and made her cry out, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me on her death bed! Fuck the bitch into my cunt." They didn't actually fuck as the abrasive ash would have hurt them both, but he did enter her and they made the appropriate fucking noises. He jacked off in her cunt and they stirred the mess into a muddy froth. When they emerged, naked, arm in arm with Gretchen's ash turned to grey mud on their wet genitals, the kids saw their father as a monster, but they saw Dorothy as being worse. She made him that way. The most difficult task for Dorothy was presenting her out- thrust loins with her cunt lips held open, inviting each kid to come and kiss their old mother goodbye one last time before she showered and washed her into the sewer. None was interested in a last goodbye kiss, and Tabatha ran crying from the room. Craig was right, though, the boys soon accepted having an outrageous whore sharing their house. The three boys were won over when she padded through the house after the shower wearing only skimpy panties. From then on, Dorothy wore either short skirts with no panties, or panties only. She went topless always when indoors. The boys' eyes followed her bobbing, swaying udders like they were attached to the nipples. If they ever thought about their poor mother, those thoughts never showed. Tabatha, however, could not hide her disdain and disgust. Her father remained a monster, and Dorothy was the monster's pet gargoyle, a pet that did his dirty deeds, a murderous gargoyle without shame or remorse with the ashes of her dear mother fucked into her cunt. She could not stand to be in the same room with Dorothy, much less say anything to her. Dinners were a silent affair that she tried to hurry through. She could not stand to watch her brothers making fools of themselves, fawning over their father's whore and their mother's killer. The younger ones, Brad and Mike, liked to take their meals, each sitting on a naked thigh, licking their dinner off the gargoyle's boobs. And her big brother, Bradley, was the worst, getting under the table and placing his plate on her seat between her wide-spread thighs, making her giggle all though the meal. And her father, watching them in silence while keeping an eye on Tabatha, making her eat slowly and chew her food properly, then making her stay for desert, making her sit through the entire disgusting performance. Desert was the most disgusting show of all. They had pudding, always pudding: tapioca, chocolate, vanilla custard. Dorothy would go off and fill her vagina somehow, then return and sit on the table before each person in turn, letting them use a spoon or lick right from the vaginal bowl. And she always stopped before Tabatha last to offer her obscene and messy spread. Tabatha refused to look and begged to be excused each time. Her father pressed hard to get her to try some, to get her to lick the bowl. She steadfastly refused and would cry when he persisted. Dorothy hated to see Tabatha cry, but after having fed four mouths from her cunt, she hated seeing her getting excused without licking the outside of the bowl clean at least. As Dorothy pulled the car into the driveway, she resolved that Tabatha would not be getting excused tonight, and the congealed sperm-like Tapioca would be desert. Dorothy was surprised to see Tabatha sitting alone in the living room. With school out for the summer, she always stayed away as much as possible, especially if the two might be alone in the house. The kids could come and go as they pleased, but the evening meal was mandatory. They all had to be in by seven. The boys were at the community center pool, as usual, checking out the high school girls in their string bikinis. Tabatha owned a modest one piece suit and swam only in their backyard pool, and rarely then. Dorothy didn't know what to make of this, but decided to break some ice or warm some cute fanny. She pulled her dress over her head and tossed the thin dress over a chair by the door should she need the dress to answer a caller's ring. Wearing only high heels, she padded over to stand between Tabatha and the TV she was watching intently. Tabatha tried to look around Dorothy's pelvis as Dorothy blocked her view and said, "We have two whole days to get better acquainted. I want you to remain at home. I insist you remain at home. I want to take you shopping for some sexy new clothes, and we must get you one of those itsy bitsy bikinis the girls are all wearing. You'll make them all green with envy, because yours will be the itsiest and the bitsiest. Look at me when I talk to you, Tabatha. I said, look at me!" Tabatha turned hard eyes up to Dorothy to hear, "That's better. I want us to be friends. We can do each other's hair and nails. I can teach you about makeup. I'll be the mother you should have had and deserve to have." Tabatha gave Dorothy an icy stare with her jaw tightly clenched to hold in what she wanted to shout. Dorothy ignored the defiant stare and calmly said, "My toes need retouching. Come. I'll show you how to do a pedicure. Give me your hand, Tabatha." Tabatha reluctantly lifted her limp hand and Dorothy hauled her to her feet. She led the stiffly plodding teen into her mother's former bedroom, took a seat in her mother's vanity chair, reached for her mother's polish remover, buffer, and polish, then ordered Tabatha to sit on the floor at her feet. Tabatha knelt and sat back on her heels in resignation, hanging her head to avoid having to look into Dorothy's mature vagina. Dorothy made that difficult by hanging her left leg over the left armrest while placing her bare right foot in Tabatha's lap, pressing her toes in Tabatha's crotch. Dorothy wiggled her right toe, saying, "What's the matter, Tabatha? Does seeing all your mother's stuff just as she left it make you sad?" Tabatha remained silent. "When I talk to you, I expect an answer." Tabatha said, "Yes, it makes me sad." "I'm so sorry. Does it help if I tickle your pussy." "Stop it!" "Don't you have a pussy between your legs, Tabatha? I don't feel a pussy. That would explain why you're such a sour puss all the time. I'd be sour too if I had no pussy." Dorothy continued probing the top of Tabatha's vagina. She could feel the start of her slit and the tight puffy labia, but pretended she couldn't, watching closely for Tabatha's reaction, her true reaction, for to go by the pained facial expression she made would not give her that. Dorothy noticed that Tabatha made no move to remove the foot, though whenever Dorothy rested a hand on her shoulder, Tabatha quickly brushed it off. Tabatha tolerated the obscene rubbing with a bright red face as Dorothy continued her taunting tease, saying, "Your mother gave you two of almost everything. Didn't she give you at least one little pussy to play with?" "My mother gave me everything I need, including that." "Well, then, let's just see." With that, Dorothy brought her toe to the edge of Tabatha's skirt and dipped under between her bare knees. Tabatha stiffened as Dorothy's toes ran slowly up her right thigh, then turned in toward the center as the foot neared her crotch. Tabatha tensed and turned her head as the toe made contact over panties, then turned the foot on edge so as to fit between the gap in her thighs. Dorothy nestled her toes in the cleft and felt the full length of Tabatha's slit with the big toe pressing in, saying, "Oh, there it is. Yes, you do have a pussy, a cute little pussy, too. There's the clittie, and there's the nice fat lips. I can feel a well-defined pussy crack, not too long, just right. And there's the pussy hole, right over the wet spot. My goodness but you are wet. What are you thinking about, you nasty little girl? Dorothy dug her toe into the hole, pushing in panties and all, making Tabatha wince. She said, "I asked you what you were thinking." Tabatha looked in Dorothy's eyes and said, "You killed my mother. I hate you. I hate you. That's what I was thinking." Dorothy was stung by the unexpected accusation, but forced calm in her voice, saying, "And that makes you horny? You are a perverted little slut, aren't you? I'll bet you liked the part when I poured your mother on my cunt. You must have climaxed when you saw me stuffing her ashes into my pussy." "Then you admit you killed her?" "I admit nothing, but if it turns you on, I'll play along. It does seem to turn you on, Juicy Lucy." "Stop doing that. I hate it. You're disgusting." "Your mouth says one thing, but your hot, horny, little pussy says another. Which of your mouths should I believe, the mouth with teeth or without? Since a pussy's mouth can't lie, you must be lying through your teeth." "Believe whatever you want, but I truly hate you, and I hate what you're doing to my pus...vagina." Dorothy reached up with her foot and hooked her toe in the panty waist band. She pulled down hard until they ripped and the panties hung loose. She then wedged her toe through the lips of naked wet pussy until she was under the hole. She pressed up and entered the girl's hole, sinking her full toe inside, saying, "There, that's better for both of us. By the way, you can say, pussy or cunt; in fact, I prefer you use pussy from now on. The word will sound precious coming from your lips." "Take your toe out of my pussy. I hate it." "That's a lie, and I can safely assume that other stuff was a lie, too. You don't hate me, and you love what I'm doing to your pussy. You want your little pussy fucked so badly that you'll even settle for a woman's toe, even the toe of the woman who murdered your mother." Dorothy could see that her toe was driving Tabatha to distraction. Tabatha managed to move her knees six inches apart without being too obvious, and she raised up off her heels slightly, giving Dorothy's toe easier access and room to work, room to fuck. Dorothy continued her taunting teases, saying, "I think you're glad I got your mother out of your life so you can start living life a little, start dating and showing off that adorable figure. Your brothers and your father are dying to see you naked, Tabatha." Tabatha accidently let a moan escape on hearing those words, and she held her cunt steady for the toe-fucking she was getting. Dorothy said, "I sure won't stop you; in fact, I can help. I can even see to it that your cute little pussy gets the proper fucking it needs and craves. I'm not talking about toe fucking, girl. I'm talking about hard, throbbing, sperm-shooting, cock fucking. You mother would never let your pussy have any cock. You'd be a virgin until you were twenty-one, and you know it. I'll be a much better mommy to you, and you know that, too." Dorothy slowly raised Tabatha straight up on her knees and had her jutting out her loins to receive the toe fucking. Just as Tabatha was about to reach a climax, and her pelvis began to hump and grind, Dorothy withdrew her toe, taking her foot from under Tabatha's dress. Tabatha stared with a hunger denied and sat with a slump onto her heels again, panting and frustrated. Her face was red as a fire truck with a combination of arousal and embarrassment. Dorothy said, "I wanted my toes done, remember." 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