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From: what's a mother to do? <slutmissy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Phil Phantom presents Tiffany's "First Class Treatment" (1/3)
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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."

CONTINUED

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