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From: mommy's _good_ little girl <slutmissy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Bonding Tabatha (1/2) by Phil Phantom
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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."

CONTINUED

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