Message-ID: <7746eli$9801241157@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: what's a mother to do? Subject: Phil Phantom presents Tiffany's "First Class Treatment" (1/3) 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: <34C91DD8.587E@hotmail.com> 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, hit the 'Q' key. 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 "First Class Treatment" Part one of Three By: Tiffany I could not believe my luck. After being a single mother of three for twelve years, and struggling from pay check to pay check, I met a man that wanted to marry me after one date. He offered to adopt my three children and keep me at home doing the things I love doing: cooking, mothering, and painting. Walter Quintana was pushing sixty and twenty-five years my senior. Though not my ideal man, he was distinguished, knew lots of interesting and important people, and was rich by my standards. My sons took an instant liking to Walter because he was liberal with his cash, offered them beer, and letting them browse his extensive collection of girlie magazines. Those things did not set well with me, but I kept silent. My boys have been a hand full ever since the first one, Jason, entered puberty four years ago. Greg doubled my trouble two years later, and my youngest, Arthur, had just begun talking squeaky and leaving those tell-tale spots on his sheets. The thought of my little sex fiends having unlimited access to pornography left me with a cold chill. Add alcohol to that mix and I could see real trouble in the mansion. None-the-less, I quelled my apprehensions and accepted Walter's proposal and his suggestion that we move in together for a few weeks before the wedding. Walter wanted me to quit my job and offered to maintain my apartment. He said he'd give me five thousand dollars as a parting gift if things didn't work out. I was determined that things would work out. During those two weeks I never uttered a protest or made a single complaint, though I had plenty to complain about. My boys quickly became impossible to control. Walter seemed to be testing my tolerance. Always a very touchy-feely guy, he continued that practice regardless of who was in the room or what room we were in. To have a hand grab my crotch with one or more of my boys grinning at me was a novel and unwelcome sensation. Not being able to slap the shit out of the guy that did it was even more novel. Walter had another nuance that I found particularly unnerving; he liked to playfully call me demeaning terms, like bitch, cunt, and whore. These were always said with a smile and followed by a kiss, but in the presence of my children, it was difficult to bear. When they started doing it, Walter loved it. I was almost ready to take the five grand and walk. I stayed but resolved that after the wedding there would be some major changes. Our state is a community property state and I made it clear that I would not sign a pre-nuptial agreement. I even visited an attorney without Walter's knowledge to verify what my rights would be one day after the wedding. What I learned was that I'd be half rich. I'm not a gold digger, but with that knowledge I had options and leverage. I intended to use those to get my way. The day after the wedding, the beer would go, the magazines would go, and they would all show me the respect I deserved as a wife and mother. If not, Walter would go. I was sitting on the couch with Walter two days before the wedding. We were watching TV. From Jason's room came the familiar call that sent chills up my spine. "Hey, BITCH! Bring me a fuckin' beer!" I forced a smile. Walter said, "Boys will be boys." I delivered the beer to Jason who was lying on his back, propped up on a pillow, and jerking off while looking at Miss November. All three of my boys get a big kick out of having me catch them jerking off. They also like to deposit their youthful seed where they know I'll have to handle it, like on pillow cases and in socks. I handed Jason the beer with fire in my eyes and said, "You just wait, young man. I'm going to remember this. I'm writing everything down." He just gave me a hard look, pointed his prick at me, and jerked faster. I left steaming. I plopped down beside Walter and smiled, saying, "Oh, those boys. They drive me nuts. I hope you won't mind if I make a few little changes after we're married." "That will be your prerogative. After all, half of this will be yours. I intend to leave the running of this house to you, dear. Just to humor me, though, don't make any changes until then, okay?" This unexpected news thrilled me, and I quickly said yes. From that moment on I could take anything. When Jason next called me, I walked in smiling. He had just ejaculated all over his stomach and upper thighs. I handed him the beer and said, "Can I get you a warm wash cloth?" "Yeah, cunt. You can clean this fuckin' mess up, too." I returned seconds later, knelt by his bed, and dutifully swabbed-up his semen. I pinched the deflated head of his penis to wipe along its length and clean his balls. Jason loved this intimate attention from me, as it was the first time in his memory that I'd touched his penis. He'd die if he knew I'd regularly sucked all three of them as babies to get them to fall asleep. It was their father's idea. He got a big charge out of watching. After I tossed his lazy ass out, my boys learned to fall asleep the normal way. The evening before the wedding, Walter and I sat together on the couch. He was wondering why we hadn't received the results back from our blood tests and was worried that the wedding might have to be postponed. It was no big deal. We planned a simple JP ceremony at the court house, but I became anxious. Moments later, the phone beside me rang. I picked up. The professional sounding male voice said, "Is this Ann Taylor?" "Yes, yes it is." "Miss Taylor, this is Dr. Greendale from the clinic. I'm afraid I have some rather disturbing news. I'd prefer to discuss this in detail in a more suitable setting, but time is of the essence. In brief, your blood test revealed the presence of a rare toxin. The tests are conclusive. You have what's called lymphatic toxicoma." "Lymphatic toxicoma? Is it serious?" "I'm afraid it's very serious - life threatening if not treated in time. Tell me, are your joints hurting you at all?" "Well, no, not really." "Excellent. That means we can use chemotherapy. Ann, I can now give you some good news. We can treat your condition with drugs, and the treatment only takes thirty days. Afterwards, you'll be free of this condition." I let out a sigh of relief and said, "It's about time I heard something positive. So, do I need to make an appointment or something? I have a wedding tomorrow at noon." I'm afraid the wedding must wait until we can clear your test. The Center for Disease Control has a strict rule on this condition. Although the disease can not be communicated while the drugs are being administered, it is a very rare and dangerous communicable venereal disease." "Where did I get it?" "I don't want to get into that over the phone. I'll need a detailed sex history from you - another CDC requirement. Ann, is there anyone with you?" "Yes, Walter my fiancee is right here." "Don't move. Tell him to hold the phone to your ear for you." "But why, I'm perfectly..." "Please, Ann, just do as I say." I told Walter and he held the phone. "Okay, now very gingerly release the phone and let your arm fall and rest at your side. Do not move your fingers or wrist joints!" Fear rose in me as I complied. I said, "Why, what's wrong?" "I'm coming to you with a team of specialists, Ann. It is absolutely important that you not move any joints until we arrive. The toxin acts on the cartilage between your joints. Movement speeds up the action and provides a pathway into the central tissues. If the toxin gets inside the cartilage, the drugs can't neutralize them. We may still cure you, but you could easily loose fingers, hands, feet, even entire limbs. If you haven't felt any pain it is not likely to have happened yet, but this is too serious to take a chance. Can you remain totally immobile for thirty minutes?" I said a very firm yes. The doctor hung up. I explained the situation to Walter, talking through clenched teeth, head straight forward, trying not to move my jaw. Walter immediately went for his medical encyclopedia. He found the section right away and read me the short article. It was what Dr. Greendale had told me, plus we learned that it only affected the joints of the outer extremities from the elbows and knees down. Treatment called for immobilization of vulnerable joints and chemotherapy. That was a small relief, and I timidly relaxed my jaw and neck. What I found shocking was that the drugs were administered twice daily through high colonic enemas. Walter put the book away and sat beside me, saying, "Well, look on the bright side. It's curable and they caught it before any damage was done." I said, "Yes, I'm a very lucky lady, but this is too serious for me to start celebrating my good luck. By the way, the wedding has to be postponed for at least a month." "Damn! Well, look, the deal is still valid as far as I'm concerned, and I'll pick up the full medical expenses besides. I'll arrange to hold your apartment for another month." "Oh, Walter. You are a prince." Walter called my boys in and gave them the full story. They looked on with sad worried eyes. I said, "It looks like you kids will have to get your own beer for a while. And Jason, you can clean your own jerk-off messes." He scowled at me for embarrassing him, but it felt good to see him blush for a change. Dr. Greendale arrived on time and was accompanied by three assistants, two male and one female. All but the nurse wore light blue medical smocks with name plaque badges that identified them as MD. RN. Technician, Therapist and so forth. She wore a sexy white nurse's uniform. They all looked and acted professional, and I hadn't the slightest inkling they weren't what they pretended to be. Dr. Greendale explained the disease and treatment in more detail. He explained the necessity of applying casts to mid-thigh and mid-upper arm. As his assistants prepared the materials, he said, "Fortunately, I see you have three helpers living with you. You're lucky they are out of school for the summer. We can train them to care for you and administer the treatments. Of course, you could hire round the clock nurses, but that can be very expensive." I said, "What do I need nurses for?" "Ann, these casts are very heavy. I'm afraid you won't be able to do anything for yourself. Basically, you'll be bed-ridden. Now, I'll need to cut your clothes off of you." He made a move towards my skirt with a pair of scissors and I freaked. My three boys were gawking at me. I said, "Wait! Not with them in here. Walter, can we talk privately?" Walter ushered everyone into the den and shut the door. He came back and sat beside me. I said, "Walter, sweetheart, I don't want those kids looking after me. They've never seen me naked, and I want to keep it that way; besides, there's no way I want them attending to my toilet or giving me sponge baths. Giving me enemas is out of the question. Hire me a nurse, please!" Walter looked pensive, then said, "Look, Ann. I'll be totally honest with you. One of my biggest fantasies is of a beautiful, sexy mother being helpless and at the mercy of her horny kids. I prefer scenarios that involve nasty young girls, but any kids will do. This situation has fallen into my lap like a gift from heaven. Please don't ask me to forfeit it and spend thousands of dollars unnecessarily in the process." This revelation was not a total surprise to me. Whenever we made love, Walter made me recount every improper act that my boys had ever perpetrated on me. Lately, there had been many, and I fully understood his motives for wanting me to tolerate the situation. I said, "Sweetheart, I understand what you want, but this is no game. You don't know what you're asking. I have no idea what those boys are capable of. I don't know if I could survive the humiliation of having them see my naked vagina, much less wiping my butt. As for sex, who knows what they might try. I will be totally helpless once those casts are on." Walter smiled with a gleam in his eye. I knew I said the wrong thing. He said, "That's right. I could live off the memories for the rest of my life." I knew right then that there was no chance of getting a nurse. My options were few. I had no medical insurance. I pleaded, "Please, Walter! If I do this for you, will you at least lay some ground rules for them and rigidly enforce them." "No, that would defeat my purpose. I want them to feel free to do with you whatever pleases them. I have no intention of interfering. It will do you no good to cry to me for help, either. I won't lift a finger. I'm sorry, Ann, but I can't pass this chance up. I'd never get another in a million lifetimes." I still had the option of halting our engagement. I figured the doctor would commit me to the state hospital. I've heard horror stories about those places. Finally, I said, "Bring them in." Soon they were all crowded around as Dr. Greendale began snipping his way up the center of my skirt. I wanted to die as he folded the flaps back and exposed my panties. Greg slyly pointed out the stray pubic hairs peeking out from under the leg bands. Dr. Greendale's scissors continued up through my pull-over. He parted the sweater and cut down the length of each sleeve. I had little time to adjust to being in my bra and panties when he snipped the bra in the center and cut the two shoulder straps. He bared my breasts and the boys' eyes lit up. I groaned as he inserted his scissors down the center of my panty waist band and cut his way to the left leg hole. He then cut straight across the crotch, saying, "I'm afraid these have to go, too. Once the casts are on you wouldn't be able to get them off without cutting anyway. And you may as well adjust to having your sons see you in your birthday suit. They'll be bathing you twice a day among other things." I closed my eyes as he stepped back and revealed my exposed vagina. I cursed the fact that I'd been sitting in a relaxed, unladylike position when he first called and didn't have the courage to move my knees together. I could feel the cool air on my inner membranes, and my damn clit began climbing up to take a look around. I closed my eyes and listened to my sons' giggles. Dr. Greendale took up a clipboard and said, "I need to get this CDC sexual history questionnaire filled out. I'm afraid it's rather personal. I must warn you that falsifying information can lead to arrest and/or a stiff fine. They're very serious about this, Ann. Perhaps you'd like to handle this in private." I nodded firmly, but Walter piped in, saying, "I'm sure Ann has nothing to hide. Go ahead, Doctor." I gave Walter a nasty look. The doctor said, "Very well." He then began asking me extremely detailed questions. I was so intimidated by the threat from the CDC that I answered them truthfully. Before the humiliating experience was over, I'd explained my masturbation habits, including frequency and technique. I told of my first sexual encounter; my first oral sex; my first anal experience; my love of enemas; my several acts of infidelity; and the catalog of lovers I'd had since divorcing my husband. By the time I was through, I was not just physically laid bare, but spiritually and emotionally as well. I felt like a cheap slut. My kids were looking at me like I was a cheap slut. My traitorous vagina reveled in my exposure, embarrassing me further by opening up and pouring my juices down the crack of my ass and wetting the sofa cushion. After the questionnaire, the team went to work and applied soft gauss padding wherever the cast would be applied, being extremely careful not to move me unnecessarily. Water-soaked plaster strips were continually applied until both my legs were covered by a thick cast. They cast my legs as they were positioned, bent ninety degrees at the knee. While the leg cast set-up, they started on my arms, setting them just as they rested. After encasing my arms, they went back to my legs and Dr. Greendale explained that they could now lift and move my leg to complete the casting of my feet and setting eyebolts in the ends at the toes. I groaned as they lifted my right leg and yawned my pussy. I groaned doubly when, afterwards, they set it far to the right and then lifted my left. The boys gathered at my crotch and gawked at my spread beaver. I swear they could see my tonsils. I could see that Walter was enjoying himself. He had a hardon that threatened to destroy a new pair of slacks. When all work was done and the casts were set, I sat like a fool, helpless and exposed. I tried to lift my arms, but the weight was almost too much. The legs were impossible to move on my own. My casts were much bigger than ordinary casts for broken bones, and at the ends of each was a strong eyebolt. These, he explained, facilitated suspension and greatly added to my comfort. He said they would begin installing the hardware necessary for my home care. They turned the guest bedroom into a treatment room. They wheeled in a hospital bed, and soon heard drilling and hammering. The decent thing for them to do after finishing my casts would have been to throw a sheet over my naked body. Not only was I not given a sheet, but they left my legs widely parted. The medical people ignored the way my kids gathered between my legs and studied my intimate anatomy. That was the only non-professional act I observed, but that was pretty damned unprofessional if you ask. In addition to the exposure of my most intimate anatomy before my children, the heavy weight of my leg casts forced my knees to fall out. If I had been trying to shoot the widest beaver I could, I doubt I could have done any better. I looked to Walter with a face as red as a used tampon and said, "I hope you're satisfied." He simply smiled. After two hours on the couch, I was lifted by the men and placed on my back in the bed. Overhead was a traction frame of heavy chrome steel with chrome rings every six inches down both rails. Dr. Greendale demonstrated the utility of the setup by clipping a cotton rope to the eyebolt on the toe of my right leg cast, running the tail end through a ring in the right side rail, drawing my leg up in the air and to the right. He did the same with the my left leg. When he secured the ends, I was helplessly spread wide, and my backside barely rested on the bed. The position, though humiliating, did feel good. Being relieved of all that weight made me temporarily forget just how exposed and vulnerable my crotch was. The doctor secured my arms out to the sides with my elbows up by the top of my head. I must have looked like a dead cockroach, and I felt especially vulnerable with my tits stretched and arching up. I was a rapist's dream. The doctor then demonstrated the electronic controls. Everyone gathered around my bed for this demonstration. With the press of a button on a hand-held control unit, a motor hummed, and the entire framework rose, lifting me clear of the bed by over a foot. He paused to point out the facility of being able to easily lift me this way to facilitate my toilet and bathing needs. They placed a plastic baby's wash basin on the bed beneath me. He took a water wand that was hooked on the bed rail and startled me by spraying my crotch. I then noticed the garden hose coming in through the window. I also noticed the eyebolts installed on the walls and ceiling. He adjusted the spray to a pulse mode and pulsed my exposed anus, saying to my kids, "You won't have to deal with messy toilet paper with this device. Just don't use too much water. Remember, you have to be able to carry the basin away when you finish." He then absent-mindedly brought the pulsing jets up my crack to my clit. I jerked and brought my head up. He said, "Oh, excuse me, Ann." The boys got a big laugh out of that. The nurse enjoyed it especially. She brought a tissue to my pussy and rubbed me dry, smiling and saying, "We both know what that thing is good for, don't we." This was my first real inkling that this was a setup. The way she said it, and the way they all laughed, not to mention the unprofessional way she dried my pussy, told me I was in deep trouble. I felt like such an idiot. I knew I was screwed. I saw no way out. Even if I screamed my head off, my screams would only get me a gag. I decided to go ahead and play along, mostly because I had no other choice. I felt like I deserved whatever happened. I wasn't even angry with Walter. I should have suspected. Even a total idiot can put two and two together. I couldn't blame my boys; they were just being boys. Who could really blame them if they decided to take advantage of the rather comical situation I found myself in. I was sure they were not in on it. They seemed to believe the story. Actually, all of the burden was off me. I had no say over anything. I was as helpless and vulnerable as any woman could be. Walter and his strange friends were responsible. If they could live with their consciences, then more power to them was the way I saw it. After this demonstration, the nurse took charge and ushered the men from the room, directing the boys to stay. This woman was the image of the buxom babe dressed up as a sexy nurse like you see on adult sit-coms. Her uniform was short and open at the chest to show ample cleavage. Her hair, wildly sculpted and piled high, was accented by her cute nurse's cap. Unlike most nurses, she wore make-up, professionally applied. After shutting the door behind the men, she locked it. She turned sensuously, leaned against the door, and said in a sultry, sexy voice, "Before I explain how you take care of Mommy's hygiene needs, would you boys mind if I have a little fun with her first." 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