Pat's Pounding part 1 by APonderingPen

When Patrick, or Pat as his Mom insisted on calling him, arrived at his summer retreat, he knew that there was something he was obviously not privy to. If such was not readily apparent in the sly, reminiscing grin gracing his mother's beautiful features, an expression he had never seen on her usually stern visage, then it was abundantly clear in how the same or a very similar countenance was on the faces of the other mothers arriving with their sons.

Pat, a youth newly 18, slight in stature, took great pride in his intellect, especially his prodigious ability to notice that which often alluded others. As such, the unfamiliar expression on his mother's face as they arrived at what he had been told would be his summer lodgings was not the first strange detail he had noticed. On the contrary, it was merely one among many.

The first and still one of the most distinctive instances of strangeness occurred last week: Pat, arriving home from school, overheard his mother talking to someone on the phone. Now, such an occurrence was not strange or weird as he often heard his mother talking to one of her many business associates, invariably female, over loudspeaker. However, everything about this one specific instance was bizarre.

Entering the house quietly as he always did so as to not disturb his mother, he heard her voice from her office. Usually, he would do as he had done a thousand times before and tip-toe past her to his room. However, this time, some instinct, unidentifiable but intense, urged him to stop, press his ear to her office door and listen. So he did, and what he heard, unbeknownst to him then, was the first step on a path that would see his life totally change.

Despite a nearly total lack of business knowledge, something his mother often sought to remind him was an embarrassment to her, a third-generation CEO, it was instantly clear that whatever else the phone call was about, it wasn't business. Such was immediately apparent in his mother's tone; never before had he heard her speak with such intensity, her voice dripping with such passion that if he were not so familiar with her low purr, he would have questioned whether it was indeed her on the other side of the unyielding wood. Adding to his certainty of this not being anything business-related was what she was saying; ear pressed as hard to the door as possible, he could vaguely make her out.

'I can't believe the day is nearly here, Sam. Soon we'll turn them into our sheaths, locking them up and making them accept our love.' As his mother spoke, Pat heard a steady but unidentifiable noise coming from, he guessed, her phone. Schlick. Schlick. Schlick. 'Imagine it, Sam. We'll have them under us as we, after waiting for so long, claim them as ours forever... marking them... owning them.'

In response to his mother's vivid description, Pat heard a long, low, sinful moan from whoever was on the other end of his mother's phone. Hearing such, Pat attempted to, impossibly, press somehow further against the door in a desperate attempt not to miss anything being said. Lost in his desire to listen to the lurid audio of his mother's voice, Pat unknowingly adjusted his weight such that the wooden floor under him gave out a loud squeak. Heart in his mouth, he quickly realised that all sound from the other side of the door had been consumed by silence. With clarity brought on from the cold rush of adrenaline, Pat, knowing his damning role of eavesdropper would result in swift and harsh punishment if caught, took off down the hall towards his bedroom.

From that moment on, during the remainder of the week until this morning, Pat had noticed innumerable examples of strangeness. If he wasn't catching his mother looking at him when she thought he didn't know with an unsettling, almost manic gleam in her eye, then he was the recipient of her unfamiliar affection, such being peculiar in its blend of gentle forcefulness. And then there was this morning. As usual, Pat rose early, ensuring that his mother's breakfast was well on its way to completion before she came downstairs into the kitchen. But as had happened so often before during the surreal last week, the familiar routine became rapidly less so due to his mother's new behaviour.

The first oddity Pat noticed when his mother entered the kitchen was her unusual attire. Never before had Pat seen her in anything less than the most conservative clothing, skin always covered, with whatever she wore being loose so as to not cling to her shape. Now, however, she walked in dressed in such tight and skimpy clothes that would make even the most promiscuous pornstar blush; a top so low her enormous breasts nearly fell out of it with each tiny movement and a skirt so high that even though she was facing him, he knew that the bottom of her equally massive ass must be visible to the world. Despite the two awe-inspiring mammaries that most would have assumed dominated his attention, he could not take his eyes off the peculiar prominent cylindrical bulge his mother's too-short shorts done nothing but emphasise; for some strange reason, the sight of it sent a cold pulse of something to his anus, his virgin ring twitching in unexplainable delight.

Left mute by his body's strange reaction to his mother and whatever she had decided to stuff into her shorts, Pat stared at the vision of breathtaking beauty before him. However, his mother didn't give him much time to appreciate her beauty. 'Pat, I should have told you this sooner, but you'll be going somewhere different this year for summer camp.' Instantly, Pat's attention was no longer held captive by his mother's lush body but now by her words.

'What?!' he demanded, tone crackling with anger. 'Why?! What about my friends?' At hearing his defiance, his mother's change in demeanour was swift, from playful to stern in the blink of an eye. Reaching out, she roughly caught his chin between her thumb and index finger, pinching with force. 'I've made up my mind, Pat. By the end of this summer, you'll thank me for this decision. If you haven't, I'll pound a 'thank you' out of you.' She growled. 'And who's to say?' she purred with a grin, her mercurial mood swings leaving him feeling dazed. 'Maybe you'll see some of your little friends this summer... just... not as you are used to seeing them.' Releasing his chin, she stormed from the room.

With great effort, Pat forced his mind from its reminiscence, trying to focus on the present. The long drive from their house to this secluded location had been one of quiet tension. At least it was for Pat, as every time he dared to look at the strange new version of his mother, she had that same unfamiliar grin, eyes bright with poorly hidden glee. Eventually, despite the arduous journey, they arrived at their mysterious destination.

Parking their car in a crowded car park, Pat, desperate to avoid another confrontation with his mother, especially now that there were people to witness what would no doubt be a one-sided altercation in her favour, meekly accepted her tightly holding his hand. They walked together, loose gravel crunching underfoot, their way lit solely by the dim glow of the moon and the flickering light of braziers, toward a large ivory pavilion located an equal distance between the car park and an extensive imposing Victorian-era mansion. As they walked, it became immediately apparent that they were not the only mother-son duo heading towards said structure, as more couples materialised out of the darkness the closer they got.

Nearing the pavilion, Pat noticed numerous tall oak stands with a crystal goblet and silver decanter resting on top inside. His mother, still holding his hand tightly in hers, led him to one of the said stands and paused as the other mother-son couples took their positions until every duo had a tall but narrow table to stand next to. At this point, Pat felt significantly disconcerted, the cold, slithering weight of worry and burgeoning panic heavy in his stomach. Still reluctant to meet his mother's gaze, fearing he might again see that predatory gleam, he studied the ostentatious decanter before him. Blushing, Pat realised that the decanter's decoration was sexually explicit, featuring what he thought must be some pagan sex celebration: it was covered in iconography depicting women with immense phalluses chasing, capturing and fucking young boys in their asses.

Keeping their hands together, Pat's mother reached for the decanter, pouring its contents into the crystal goblet. Whatever the liquid was, it wasn't anything he had ever seen; it glowed and pulsated, changing colours rapidly. 'Pat,' his mother leaned forward, whispering into his ear sensually. 'I know all of this has been sudden and confusing, but I need you to trust me now. You're going to hear, see... and feel things that might overwhelm you. The potion will help you with that. It'll keep you calm... and help you to take my womanhood as I open you up and pound you.'

Struggling to understand, Pat opened his mouth to give voice to some of the many questions he had about this bizarre situation. Potion? Magic's real? Pound me? What the hell is she talking about? His mother, though, expecting such questions, silenced him before he could speak, placing her thumb in his mouth, gently but firmly pushing down on his tongue. 'Shh, darling. No questions. Not now. Trust me, drink, and I'll introduce you to a world of pleasure.' Though hesitant and wary, he was more turned on than ever before and trusted his mother to keep him safe. So he drank. Instantly, his mind became calm, no longer oscillating between anxiousness and mild terror.

Allowing himself to be buoyed along on an ocean of peace, he followed his mother as she pulled him by the hand, other couples joining them as they approached the decadent manor. Eventually, arriving near the entrance of the magnificent building, they stopped at the base of a grand stone staircase, which led up to a pair of closed glass doors, from which a welcome orange glow shone through. At the foundation of those stone stairs, a crowd formed, made up of roughly, if Pat was correct, half a hundred people, meaning twenty-five mother and son-couples.

Despite having so many people gathered together, they made no noise. They waited there, Pat's hand clenched tightly in his mother's unrelenting grip, with the sounds of the mild wind and crackling braziers, all heeding the unspoken expectation of focusing upon the doors at the top of the staircase. Eventually, in a time that felt a minute and a millennium to Pat, the door finally opened to reveal a woman shrouded in shadow, wearing an elaborate but chilling mask, its mouth open and features contorted as though that false face was experiencing the greatest pleasure. She stood there for a long moment, no doubt glorying in the avid attention of those below, before she moved forward into the light, each move impossibly sensual.

She stopped at the top of the stairs, masked face slowly gazing from side to side upon the small crowd. Now fully visible, her outfit could be seen. She wore a gown vaguely similar to that of a Catholic nun. However, it shared only its shape, colour and traditional habit, with the rest being wildly different. The first of these differences was her plunging cleavage reaching her navel, leaving her massive breasts visible to the world, emphasised by a cupless bra, her pink nipples hard in the cold air. Next was the slit on the side of her gown, reaching all the way to her hip, giving tantalising glimpses of her lightly muscled pale legs as she walked, feet encased in six-inch stilettos, with an upside-down crucifix as the heel. With her arms spread parallel to the ground as if she had been crucified on an invisible cross, she held a coiled whip in her left hand and a human-sized collar in the other.

Even now, after seeing a woman so sexy that he usually would be near drooling, Pat remained calm and serene; the drink, Pat realised, did work wonders, just like his mother had said. As the woman, nay, the goddess, started to loudly chant in Latin above them, Pat felt his mother, in sync with all the other mothers around them, exchange whatever hold they had on their sons until they all stood in the same position; the mothers, all to a woman significantly taller than their offspring, pressed themselves flush against their children, hands possessively resting on their hips. Again, Pat, as distracted as he was by the alluring spectacle in front of him, still noticed that he could now feel whatever his mother had crammed in her shorts earlier that week; if anything, Pat thought, it somehow felt larger.

Feeling lightheaded from the intoxicating feel of his mother's svelt body pressed tightly against his and her glorious scent, it took Pat a moment to realise that the masked woman had ceased chanting. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation from whatever his mother kept grinding into his lower back, Pat attempted to focus on the figure in front of him.

'Ladies, I know you have waited, but now, finally, the time is here. Rejoice! You soon will become one with your son.' Her voice, no longer stern and harsh from her chant, was melodic. 'For many of you ladies, this will be your first time forging a son-sheathe, but I trust that your mothers will have done their duty in informing you of your roles.' Looking at those around him, Pat could see two dominant expressions; the moms had hungry, anticipatory grins while the sons, all of slight build and stature like himself, he noticed placidly, seemed just as confused as him. 'Three questions I will ask, and three answers I will receive.'

After a brief pause, during which a heavy silence reigned, the woman resumed, her voice again stern and authoritative. 'Mothers', do you take your son to be your sleeve and conquer his boi-cunt?'

'Yes,' the mothers answered in unison. Unable to look back at his mother, Pat, mind still under the influence of the potion-induced calm, was left to deal with his growing confusion singlehandedly.

'Mothers, do you promise to pound his prostate till his cock runs dry?

'Yes,' the mothers intoned again, one responding with such enthusiasm she was distinctly heard over the others, provoking much laughter from the other women present.

'Mothers, will you dominate his dick?

'Yes,' the mothers responded for the final time, a thick and weighty silence immediately descending upon the crowd. After a short but pregnant pause, the woman who, until this point since her appearance despite her verbosity, had not moved even minutely, turned around, arms still parallel to the ground, and walked back towards the doors she first appeared from. As she walked away, she spoke over her shoulder, 'Come, let us indulge.'

At this invitation, the crowd ascended the stairs together, with some mothers so desperate they lifted their son from the ground, held up like a bride, and sprinted forward. Pat, feeling himself being swept from his feet and clutched to his mother's voluptuous chest, could only wonder to himself, Just what kind of summer camp was this?

———x———

Once they are through the entrance, the group is led through a long hallway, which Pat notices is just as extravagant as the exterior; the floors are solid marble, the walls decorated with numerous substantial portraits of preternaturally beautiful women, all dressed like queens of old, and the roof, covered with attractive patterns are gilded with what Pat suspects is gold.

Soon, they reach and enter a new room, vast in size, holding the entirety of the group with ease, who come to stand in the middle of the chamber, facing five large doors, each with a number in the middle, from one to five. Their escort, that beautiful priestess from outside, continues forward after the group has stopped, toward the middle set of doors, turning around once she has reached them. Despite Pat's attention being split between the feel of his mother's strong arms and soft chest and the room's interior that somehow puts the impressive hallway they had just passed through to shame in terms of sheer splendour, he doesn't miss the presence of four other priestesses. Each of them stands before one of the large sets of doors, dressed similarly to their guide, with only one variation; each of their masks is slightly different in design, but all feature that same expression of agonised pleasure.

Their guide once more takes the lead, voice pitched to be heard throughout the cavernous space. 'Mothers, on your invitation, each of you was assigned a number. Now, approach the door bearing the number given to you with your soon-to-be-son-sheath. We should have five groups, with five mothers and their cumslut slaves in each. I trust I don't have to tell any of you not to dilly-dally?' The rhetorical question provokes much laughter from the mothers approaching their designated door.

Once their group is gathered, their priestess, incidentally the same as their guide, leads them through the doors, with such opening under their own power, splitting the number in half on them as they do. As they enter the room, it is almost like they are travelling back thousands of years. The chamber itself, Pat imagines, is what a bathhouse would have looked like during the height of the ancient Roman empire. However, this particular example would have, with the exception perhaps of those used by the Emperor, put all the others to shame; like the corridor and room before, it was magnificence made manifest. The bath, designed in the shape of a pentagon, was in the centre of the room, filled with a liquid that, Pat guessed, was milk; it was white and emitted the most delicious aroma. Surrounding the bath on all sides were evenly-spaced oak columns, each bearing beautiful carvings; these rested upon a floor of marble decorated with silver and gold.

The most arresting feature, however, was the walls, specifically what was on them. As soon as Pat noticed, he could feel the warm burn of his blush; so great was his embarrassment that it did not stop at his face but carried on down his neck until it reached his chest. The walls, similar to the silver decanter outside, were covered in graphic frescos detailing the lurid exploits of women with colossal phalluses; they were chasing young boys. The images did not end there. On the contrary, there were many more, each more explicit than the last. Most showed what happened to the young boys when they were caught; invariably, they all ended with the women shoving those mammoth spears of flesh balls deep up those young boys' tight asses. How the women managed such was explicitly depicted: there were images of many sexual positions, some where the male youths were bent in half under the women, feet on female shoulders, bouncing wildly, and in others, the women had draped themselves over their male lover, taking them from behind as they rested on arms and knees.

Pat's single-minded focus on the wall and its scenes of sexual debauchery was disrupted when he was suddenly deposited from his mother's arms back onto his feet. Attention no longer diverted, Pat noticed that each couple had taken a side of the pentagon-shaped bath.

View panning over the couples around them, Pat recognised the faces of his best friend, Joe, and his mother, Sam. Wait! Pat thought, stunned. Does that mean it was Joe's Mom I heard moaning on the phone last week? Pat's mother's voice pulled him from his thoughts while confirming his suspicions. 'It doesn't seem like last week, does it, Sam, when I told you this time would soon come?'

Scoffing, Sam replied. 'It felt far longer than a week, Julie. And,' here, her tone became frustrated. 'My situation wasn't helped by you phoning me up to tease me and get me all hot and bothered. Hell,' she exclaimed, grabbing her son by the throat with feigned forcefulness. 'I nearly made this little soon-to-be cumslut my sheathe every time I got off the phone after talking to you.'

Sam's casual display of dominant possessiveness over Joe had a visceral effect on Pat, his penis becoming erect quicker than ever before. It didn't go unnoticed. 'Aw, looks like Pat's friend is trying to say hello!' Sang Sam in an artificially high voice, pointing at his groin with her free hand, where there was now a slight bulge. 'Hello, little guy. Helloooo,' she cooed, making little waving motions with her free hand.

Having had enough of her friend's taunting of her son, Pat's mother intervened. 'Shush, Sam. Let his little guy enjoy himself.' Strangely, the priestess interrupting the humiliating interaction left a bitter taste of disappointment in Pat's mouth. Even through the potion-induced tranquillity, Pat could feel worry gnaw at him. What the hell is wrong with me? How could I enjoy being humiliated like that?

Standing behind them, the priestess spoke, 'Ladies, undress your cumslut and send him into the bath. Quickly, now! The matriarch will not be amused if she has to wait for our group to return before the breaking begins.' At that, the mothers started to strip their compliant sons, starting at the top and working their way down. However, Sam, before much progress could be made, volunteered her own suggestion for what they should be doing. 'Ladies, why don't we have ourselves a little competition?' Seeing interest and curiosity on the faces of the other women present, she continued with a smile. 'Why don't we see which of these whores has the hungriest hole?'

Seeing nothing but positive expressions on the faces of the other mothers, Sam turns to the priestess, who, despite having her face covered, still manages to convey extreme exasperation. 'Do we have time?' she asks, her tone respectful; the contrast between the said tone of voice and how she mocked him sends a pulse of humiliated arousal to Pat's virgin ring, causing it to twitch. When did I become such a deviant? 'Be quick!' the priestess instructs, flicking her hand, still holding the collar, as if dismissing responsibility for the situation away from herself.

Now, with permission for their lude game, the mothers look at each other to see how they will proceed. 'How are we doing this then?' One asks, her hands Pat notices belatedly, pulling her son's ass cheeks apart and letting them go repeatedly. 'Well...,' Sam clears her throat, comfortable once more being the leader. 'On the count of three, we'll pull down our cumslut's underwear. And for the hungriest hole... hmmm...,' she ponders briefly, a smile soon gracing her beautiful features. 'I know! We'll turn them around, spread their cheeks and press our thumbs into their boi-pussy, and whoever's ring is the tightest wins!'

'Sounds good,' the same mother states. 'Who's counting?' she asks, hands moving to either side of her son, gripping his underwear in each hand. Seeing this, the other mothers mimic her, getting ready.

'I will,' interjects the priestess. 'It's my job to keep this show on the road anyway... Not that you horny sluts make it easy,' she japes, her voice thick with amusement. 'Ready, then?'

'One.'

As the count begins, Pat thanks every deity that might be listening that he listened to his mother and drank that potion. Otherwise, he's sure he would have keeled over in embarrassment long before. Being a virgin and hoping that this weekend will involve some sexual activity, judging by the direction things are going, Pat prays again to those faceless gods. Please, please, please, don't let this potion wear off! Without it, I'll die of embarrassment!

'Two.'

'THREE!'

On the priestess's count, each mother yanks her son's underwear down, revealing their nakedness. Not knowing where to look, Pat focuses with all his might ahead of him on the bath and its contents.

Despite, or perhaps even because of the humiliation Pat admitted to himself, his erection was more turgid than ever before. Triumphant in victory, Pat's mother retook the now familiar position of pressing herself flush against his back. Ignoring the dirty and jealous looks from the other mothers, Pat's mother whispered to him, biting his ear. 'You're probably pretty confused, aren't you, Pat' Wait, lover? Why would she want to fuck her son? What- 'Well, the women here, including me... we're special in a way you'll be seeing and feeling pretty soon,' she continued, unaware of his internal shock, hand slowly tracing down from his chest to his throbbing excitement, her nails marking his skin. 'You see, as we... take our pleasure from elsewhere, we don't need your cock.'

At this point, Pat was struggling to focus on what his mother was saying; the combination of the attention from the others and his mother's soft hand skirting the base of his shaft left Pat's mind numb with pleasure. 'So, don't worry about your penis, as you won't use it much anyway.' With each adjective she sensually whispered into his ear, she slapped each of his tiny testicles, finishing with a sharp flick with her finger to the head of his penis. Despite the cruelty of his mother's words, Pat knew he had never felt such potent, consuming arousal. Both of them are pulled from their little world by the loud encouragement from the ever-excitable Sam. 'Go, girl! Put that little cumslut in his place!'

'Ahem,' the sound of the priestess clearing her throat, recapturing their collective attention, expresses her significant exasperation. Again, despite everything, Pat still marvels at her ability to, with such simplicity, convey emotion despite her mask. 'Have all you sluts somehow forgotten? I was clear: if you don't want to suffer the matriarch's disappointment, we must stay on time. Either hurry this game up or end it.' At her urging, the mother directly across from them, one of those most jealous of Pat's insignificant manhood, without waiting for the others, twists her son about, bends him over and, covering his hands with hers, spreads his ass cheeks. 'Watch this, sisters,' she demands. The familial address, dripping with scorn, sounds like more of an insult than the crude address of the priestess.

Everyone, Pat included, watched as she spat on her son's tight ring before, without fanfare, attempting to push her thumb into him. Immediately, he let out a low groan. Wincing, Pat guessed such was more an expression of discomfort than pleasure. Sure enough, his suspicions were soon proven correct by the nameless youth. 'Please, Mom, go slow-,' he begged before he was interrupted by his mother spanking his ass. 'Shush, Daniel! Bare with it, relax that little ring and let mommy into your slutty little hole.' After more than a minute and much straining from both the duo, Daniel's mother successfully forced her thumb into his tight ass. 'HA!' she crowed her victory before giving a delighted laugh. Despite her success, she didn't waste any time before going beyond the criteria of their small competition; she had to show these sluts who had the best cumslut slave. 'Now let's see... where is it...?' As she spoke, she corked-screwed her thumb around inside him, looking for something. Watching on wide-eyed, Pat had no clue what she hoped to find in such a place.

The brief silence, formed after she started her search, was soon shattered by Daniel, letting out a whorish, feminine moan, his legs shaking so much he struggled to stand. 'YES! Found it! See that bitches?' she asked, with a smile equal parts proud and smug. 'That's.' SMACK! 'A prime.' SMACK! 'Quality.' SMACK! 'Boi.' SMACK! 'Pussy!' SMACK! Each word was accompanied by quick, sharp slaps to her son's rapidly reddening ass. 'Jealous much, sluts?' she taunted, roughly pulling her glistening fingers from her son's twitching hole and letting him fall onto the floor on his knees at her feet. Almost absentmindedly, she patted his hair as her son clung to her leg, as she glared at the other mothers, silently daring them to try and compete.

Daniel's mother's decision to up the ante of the competition changed its nature; no longer were the mothers interested in proving their soon-to-be-sheath's tightness, but now they wanted to show off their cumslut's anal sensitivity. One by one, the other mothers thumbed their cumslut's boi-cunts, desperate to show off how their slave was the most sensitive and thus the best, as such a feature contributed to an easier breaking. However, despite their best efforts, none came close to the leg-shaking performance put on by Daniel. At least, that was the case until Pat, hole twitching and clitty painfully erect, was taken in hand by his mother.

She positioned him with gentle forcefulness; she had him stand stiff-legged, feet wide apart and bent at the waist, hands touching the floor, leaving him open to the intense perusal of their attentive audience. He knew they could see everything: his hot hole and dangling penis, so small it was nearly hidden by his little marbles despite being erect. The fact that she didn't ask his permission, instead treating him like her property, had him subtly grinding his ass in the air, limited as he was by his unfamiliar position. When his most private place was revealed, the room was filled with lude exclamations from the watching mothers upon seeing his ring pulse and contract with delight.

'Fuck! What an ass!'

'Goddess! I'd love to break that boi-pussy.'

'I'd love to feel that ring twitch on the base of my womanhood!'

Waiting till the noise had died, his mother, with a proud smile, rubbed small circles on his ass cheeks. Eventually, when the priestess had managed to return silence to the room, his mother, so slowly, he wasn't sure who she was torturing more, him or their ravenous onlookers, bent down and let a long string of saliva fall from her mouth directly onto the opening of his ass.

Rubbing her spit in and around his boi-cunt, she briefly looked back to the crowd with the same agonising slowness, focusing on her main competitor, Daniel's mother.

'Jealous much, slut?' she mocked before pushing her thumb into her son's hot, clutching depths...

———x———

Pat's entire world had become his ass; he was oblivious to all his discomforts, such irritations not meriting even as background noise. He didn't feel the dull ache of stretched tendons from his uncomfortable position. He didn't feel the building pressure behind his eyes from his head hanging upside down. He didn't feel the discomfort in his splayed hands, as muscles, unused to exercise, shook from strain. No, all he could concentrate on was his mother's thumb, feeling impossibly thick, slowly, inexorably pushing its way inside him.

Although having only just started, it was the strangest feeling he had ever experienced in his life to date; he was discovering sensations in a part of his body that, until now, had remained chaste. Despite his difficulty concentrating, Pat, in a moment of clarity, understood that his mother's assault on his anus wasn't just physical but mental. Now, thanks to the somehow simultaneously soft but rough pad of his mother's thumb rubbing his insides, he was aware of his walls. Such awareness prompted a small but significant erosion of his masculinity, for, in all his erotica readings, only women understood what it was to experience penetration. Unbeknownst to Pat, this realisation, brought on by his mother's thumb, it being the vehicle for physical and mental change, was his first step towards accepting Whoredom.

Regardless of the momentousness of this experience for Pat, it was not long before he felt the base of his mother's thumb push into his burning ring. Here, she paused, thumb motionless inside of him. Feeling her still, Pat couldn't stop the warm feeling of love exploding in his chest at her thoughtfulness for him, even if he had wanted to. However, unknown to Pat, his mother's reason for stopping was not out of consideration for him but instead her taking the opportunity to pre-emptively gloat.

'Watch this,' she silently mouthed to their onlookers while ensuring she had Daniel's mother's attention.

Until now, Pat had only experienced discomfort as his mother carved out a space inside him. That soon changed. He was expecting his mother, as all the other mothers had, to spend time searching for whatever mysterious secret lay inside of him. What actually happened was very different. From one moment to the next, Pat's entire world changed. They both moved at once: Julie pushing on Pat's p-spot and Pat falling forward onto his knees, ass up in the air with his face on the floor.

For Pat, the pleasure was nearly indescribable; it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Although he had on a few occasions in the past experimented with masturbation after constantly hearing from his friends how good it was, the pleasure such brought him paled in insignificance next to this; before he would rub his penis and quickly orgasm, any enjoyment swift, fleeting and felt only in his small member. Now, though? Now, he could feel waves of bliss spreading out from his ass, leaving his whole body, as bizarre as the comparison was, feeling like warm butter.

Unbeknownst to him, his pleasure wasn't just visible in his boneless fall forward, the tight curling of his toes, or even the fluttering of his eyes. It was visible in the long, thin string of cum that dripped from his rock-hard penis. Upon seeing such a potent reaction from Pat from just a thumb in his ass, the spectating mothers went wild, easily eclipsing the passion of their former celebration at seeing Pat's tight boi-pussy.

'Fuck! FUCK! Now, that's an ass just made for breeding!'

'You LUCKY bitch! What did you do to deserve a Whore like him?'

'I almost feel sorry for him. With a p-spot like that, his mind'll soon be mush. Lucky Whore.'

During the obscene observations from their jealous onlookers, Pat's mother wasted no time before kicking things up a gear. All without removing her thumb from his boi-cunt, she quickly manhandled Pat, pulling his penis and testicles between his legs and then shutting them closed, leaving him in the same position as before but now with his clitty and tiny marbles at her mercy. Once she had him positioned as she liked, Pat's mother really set to work; Julie pressed her thumb with firm frequency on his p-spot while she wrapped her other thumb and forefinger around the base of his balls, pulling down until they bulged in her grip.

By this point, Pat could have been renamed Faucet, and such would have been accurate; his little dicklet was constantly dripping thin streams of semen onto the floor. It wasn't long before the pleasure that had been slowly building throughout his entire ass started to reach a peak.

'S-something's h-h-happening,' he squeaked red-faced.

Despite being reasonably familiar with experiencing an orgasm, none had ever felt like this; not only was his ass radiating pleasure to his entire body, he felt a massive build-up of something between his clitty and boi-cunt.

'Don't let him cum!' barked the priestess. 'Not before the ceremony!' At the priestess's interjection, Pat's mother turned to her while pulling her thumb from her son's ass.

'What do you think I am? An amateur?! This Whore might be my first son-sheath, but he isn't my first slave. I know what I'm doing!' As she said this, she ignored her son's pleading whines and gyrating ass, using the hand that had brought him so much pleasure to inflict pain. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Showing no mercy, she destroyed his desire to cum by slapping, with light force, his still pinched ball sack.

His reaction to the harsh treatment garnered much laughter from those watching: held by the balls in such a vulnerable position, his attempt at crawling away was left thwarted, leaving him rocking back and forth, moaning in discomfort at his chance at reaching climax being so callously ruined. Strangely, though, although he couldn't wait to experience more of the new form of pleasure he had just been introduced to, he loved being denied by his mother; her domination of him was a pleasure that transcended the physical, such bringing him mental bliss. Fuck, I loved that! That was the best moment of my life!

Once she was sure he wouldn't cum, Pat's mother let go of his aching balls and started to rub small circles on each ass cheek; he lay there basking in both the fading pleasure of his near orgasm and the feel of her gentle massage. For a brief moment, silence descended as the mothers came to terms with what they had seen; a virgin responding the way Pat did to such comparatively little anal stimulation was nearly unheard of. Julie used this time to comfort her son and bask in the warm glow of total victory, a cheshire grin lighting up her face; Daniel's mother, once so assertive and confident, now unable to meet her eye, had been put in her place.

The short silence, broken by Sam, was not shattered quietly. 'FUCK ME! Julie, you lucky bitch! I've never seen a virgin nearly come as quick from their boi-pussy.' Both her face and voice were awe-struck. Her expression quickly changed, though, to one of playful mischievousness. 'Have you been cheating? Did you train him before you came here?'

Pat's mother had not stopped comforting him during her friend's questioning. 'Give me a minute,' she told Sam, her tone relaxed. She moved, graceful as a lioness, until she was squatting next to his head, her mouth grazing his ear. 'Did you like that, my Whore slut?' she whispered, her breath hot on his face. His frantic nods had her huffing a quiet laugh. 'Good, I'm glad to hear it. Do you like being my Whore slave?' Again, his head fiercely bobbed in the affirmative. 'Then prove it: lick up your mess.' Pat baulked, never having considered tasting himself. Seeing his hesitation, his mother threaded her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head back until he looked at her in the eyes.

'Pat, this is vitally important. Listen,' saying such, she tugged his hair, making sure she definitely had his attention. 'To me. If you want this to continue, and to get even better, then you have to do what I say. You can't pause or hesitate. Being obedient will make this more pleasurable for you, but don't ever forget,' here she stared deep into his eyes, noses and foreheads almost touching. 'My pleasure is paramount. Your pleasure is always secondary. And, for me and the women here like me, we get a large part of our pleasure from watching our sons being good Whore sluts, and being subservient. Do you understand?'

It was fair to say that Pat had a lot of confusion and even more questions about this whole situation, but he understood the main idea.

Obey her, get pleasure. That sounds deliciously easy!

He nodded his head as best as he was able, with his mother gripping his hair. Seeing his agreement, his mother kissed him on the forehead. 'That's a good Whore. Now, follow me.' Using her grip on his hair to steer him, she had him turn around, still on his arms and knees, until his head was hovering over the puddle of his cum. Pat struggled to believe he had made such a mess. All of this came from me? Usually, I only dribble out a few drops!

As soon as she had him where she wanted him, she wasted no time before pushing his head down towards the small pool of his cum. Although he had acquiesced to his mother's demand regarding his submission, there was no way he would ever enjoy this; the sweet flutter in his belly from being dominated, especially in front of others, did not outweigh the bitter, salty taste of his watery ejaculate. He licked it up as fast as he could to get it over with quickly, trying to distract himself with thoughts of the pleasure to come.

So focused on his task was he that he missed the look of disgruntlement that appeared on his mother's face. Briefly giving Sam her attention to motion for her continued patience, she quickly returned her focus to her son. While he continued his task, she again set about rearranging his position. 'Don't you dare stop,' she instructed him, tone frosty. Without waiting for his compliance, she moved his legs so that he was no longer resting on his knees but instead, with the exception of his uppermost torso, lying on the floor. From there, she spread his legs, creating an upside down 'v,' at the top of which lay her objective; his dribbling dicklet and tiny nutsack.

While she waited for him to finish, she toed off her high heel, flexing her toes. While she waited, she noticed Sam's son Joe staring at her feet. Feeling her attention on him, he looked up from her well-pedicured foot to meet her eyes. Immediately, he blushed. Deciding to have a little fun with him after Sam's teasing of her own son, she blew him a kiss. However, before she could progress further with her teasing, she noticed that her son had finished cleaning up the mess she had pressed from his cock. Julie gave an exaggerated pout of disappointment at Joe before concentrating again on her son.

Julie walked toward him, stopping between his legs. 'Don't move, my little slut. Put your face on the floor.' Hearing his mother address him in a manner that was quickly becoming familiar, he complied quickly, thinking that he was again to be the recipient of that unmatched pleasure from earlier. Suffice it to say, he was wrong. Julie stood over his vulnerable body, remaining motionless, allowing the tension to build. Then, with no warning, she lightly placed her barefoot on his manhood and marbles

'Here's your next lesson, slut. If I order you to do something, you NEVER,' as Julie raised her voice, she too started to gradually increase the pressure her foot was exerting upon his package. 'Rush it unless I explicitly instruct you to do so. I shouldn't have to tell you this, Whore! Well?! What do you have to say for yourself?'

Blindsided by this extreme reversal of his expected fortunes, Pat was less than verbose with his apology. 'I-I'm s-s-sorry! SORRY!' he gasped and shouted simultaneously, the pressure between his legs quickly becoming painful rather than merely discomforting.

His mother eventually removed her foot after leaving him to suffer in silence for a few seconds more. 'You're one lucky Whore. If we didn't have places to be,' she explained, respectfully nodding to the priestess who playfully mimed tapping a non-existent watch on her wrist. 'And this wasn't your first time making this mistake, then your punishment would be... harsh, to say the least.'

'Ladies!' the priestess called out, clapping her hands loudly to get everyone's attention. 'We've gone way off the road here. Get your sluts in the bath. Chop-chop.' At her direction, the mothers who, until then, had been standing around watching Pat's domination at the skilful hands of his mother grabbed their sons under the arms and lowered them into the still white liquid until only their heads remained visible. Pat wasn't long in joining them, his mother sliding him into the warm bath the same way a husband would his wife.

After the priestess finished speaking, she and the mothers left the room via a door opposite the entrance. A tense silence immediately descended. Pat, now no longer caught up in the moment, was mortified that not only had these unfamiliar guys seen him nearly cum from his mother playing with his ass, but so too had his friend Joe. The first one to speak was his friend: like his mother, Joe's problem wasn't being quiet but never shutting up.

'I bet this wasn't how you pictured this summer going, eh Pat?' he joked.

His attempt at levity, weak though it was, broke the tension, the other boys weakly chuckling. As they all laughed, Pat, again for what seemed like the thousandth time, was grateful he drank that calming draught at the start of this whole crazy adventure. Thank fuck for that potion. It's the only thing holding me together.

'You're damn right, Joe. I thought I was in for a boring as fuck summer trip with my mom to some place full of greedy assholes. I never thought I'd be the one with the greedy asshole.' With his self-deprecating quip, the other boys started to loosen up, laughing genuinely. His wisecrack, so out of the blue for him in an already strange situation, achieved what was until then thought impossible: he left Joe speechless.

'Nothing to say, eh Joe? That's a first,' he taunted, relishing in one of the few verbal victories he had ever scored against his friend. Looking around at the other youths, he didn't recognise anyone. 'So,' he started, curious if they knew what was coming next, 'do any of you know where our moms are off to? Or do any of you know what else is in store for us?'

One of the boys, silent so far, haltingly spoke. 'I'm not supposed to say. Hell, I'm not supposed to know...' Here, he drifted off, gaze hazy with recollection. Seeing the other boy had become lost in his own world, Joe piped up, eager to cover up his previous silence. 'Well?! What's the big secret? Fess up!'

The lad, brought back to reality by Joe's blunt inquisitiveness, sighed. 'Are you sure you want to know?'

Joe's response was cutting. 'No, I don't. I'm just asking you to pass the time. Damn it, man! Of course, I want to know! My ass could be on the line.' Pat didn't miss his unsubtle dig at what he had let happen to him earlier. Fuck you too, Joe.

The boy laughed in Joe's face. 'If only you knew.'

'Know what?!' Joe demanded, patience visibly wearing thin.

'Look around, you idiot! Have you seriously not puzzled it out? he mocked. Pat didn't understand. Joe did, though. 'No,' he whispered, eyes comically wide, mouth hanging open. 'No way.'

Frustrated at being left out of the know, Pat demanded an answer. 'Are one of you idiots going to clue me the fuck in?'

For the second time in as many minutes, Pat witnessed Joe speechless. Seeing that his friend couldn't clue Pat in, the other boy spoke up, tone weary. 'Your mother, she has a-', he was abruptly cut off by the noise of their returning mothers. From his position, Pat had a perfect view of them re-entering the room.

Oh my God!

He didn't notice the tight, back corset pushing up his mother's massive fantastic tits, leaving her rock-hard nipples exposed to the chilly air. He didn't notice the black nylon tights connected to a black garter belt, such emphasising her incredible ass. He didn't notice the black fuck-me pumps doing amazing things to her long legs. What he did notice, however, was what was between her legs: a massive penis, easily the length of his forearm, while not yet being fully erect, accompanied by great pendulous balls swaying underneath. Suddenly, things made sense.

My mother has a fucking DICK!

———x———

Despite staring at his mother's massive bitchbreaker for what must have been nearly ten minutes, Pat could still hardly believe what he was seeing. The same thought echoed in his head. My mother has a dick? She-? How the FUCK does she have a dick? Incredulity wasn't the only thing Pat was feeling, however. No, as desperate as he was to ignore them, arousal and desire were there, quickly growing despite his attempts to pretend they didn't exist. I'm confused! That must be it! Or maybe it was that potion? It doesn't matter! I'm NOT attracted to dick! I'M NOT!

Regardless of his denial, Pat knew he was kidding himself. Hell, his own dick gave the game away: despite thinking he couldn't get any more erect, his cock was now so hard it was painful. Briefly looking around, he wasn't the only one struggling to comprehend the gaggle of mothers having such an unexpected appendage: one of the boys seemed so close to fainting, if it wasn't for the bath wall supporting him, he probably would have keeled backwards and drowned.

Returning his attention to his mother for the first time since the world-shattering revelation of his mother's giant cock, Pat stared at what she was wearing. Fuck, she looks GOOD! It wasn't just what she was wearing that captivated Pat. No, it was her. He was attracted to everything about her, from her cute dimples when she smiled to the subtle sculpted muscles of her legs. Gazing at his mother, he came to a realisation. I'm attracted to her even with the dick, not despite it. And, if he was being honest with himself, as challenging as such was in the situation he was experiencing, he was definitely curious about it. The burning in his ass, still potent from their previous mother-son rendezvous, prompted him to imagine his mother replacing her thumb with her mammoth cock. That image, vague due to his lack of sexual knowledge, had his ring twitching as if it had been tased. Fuuuuuuck!

He did his best to stifle the sudden moan he had unconsciously emitted at such a perverse image. How would it even work? How would she even make it fit?! So lost was he in his lurid daydreaming he failed to notice the attention his poorly hidden moan had attracted. Since their return, the gaggle of mothers had been standing in a loose circle near the bath, chatting with the priestess. 'Goddess, Julie. How are you even bigger?' questioned the priestess, her former commanding tone replaced with one of awe. The priestess, by no means a small woman, could have easily, if she had them, wrapped four hands around Julie's titan of a cock at once. 'I mean, it's been, what? Fifteen or sixteen years since I saw it last?' She looked up from the cock intimidatingly bobbing in front of her to Julie's face for confirmation, only to see a smug grin.

The priestess laughed, 'Still being a proud bitch about it, are we? Ah, well, it's not like I can blame you. What a cock! I mean, it's not only longer, but it's also somehow got even fatter.' Reaching out to prove as much, she gripped Julie's hole-wrecker at its slimmest point, and despite such a position, she still couldn't touch her fingers together. 'Hands off, slut!' Julie joked, slapping away the priestess's hands. 'My little lady has a date! She can't be playing touchy-feely with anyone but her beau.'

'Little lady?' she laughed, unbelieving. 'I've got a story for you sexy sluts, about Julie's little lady. You might have heard about this, Sam, but I suspect the rest of you won't have.'

Before she could continue, Sam proved she had heard the story as she interrupted, her voice amused. 'Oh, I've heard about it, alright. I know the girl who had the misfortune of having Julie initiate her son. She told me how for the rest of the ceremony, her Whore was completely wrecked, his mind totally gone.'

Even through the mask, the mothers could feel the priestess's glare. 'Thanks, bitch, for ruining the story! Anyway,' she continued, shaking her head as if physically shedding her frustration. 'The coven's matriarchs were seriously worried that Julie's little lady would shame some poor mother and ruin whichever lucky Whore was given to her for any other cock afterwards.'

Looking at Sam, she dipped her head in acknowledgement. 'I had heard about the Whore she ruined, but I didn't realise how ravaged he must have been. And get this,' she gestured down at the beast, the thing slowly pulsing as if it knew it was being talked about. 'When she turned that poor bitch's son into her personal fuck-puppet, the brute wasn't nearly as big as it is now. You're going to have some job getting it into your Whore. I mean, even if you somehow manage to force your bitchbreaker into him, there's no way you'll fit all of it into his tiny boi-pussy.'

'Don't you gals worry, I'll MAKE all of it fit,' she promised, her voice filled with steely determination. Julie's fierce resolve to permanently rearrange her son's insides, extraordinary even for women of their lustful temperament, left the group speechless.

'Has anyone ever been able to take all of it? What about your husband? Could he?' one of the other mothers cautiously asked, almost as if she were afraid of the answer.

'No,' Julie reluctantly responded after a brief hesitation. 'No one has ever been able to take it, especially the way it is now, not even my Jake. The most he could take was to about here,' she grabbed her pale python three-fourths down its shaft. 'BUT,' her voice ringing with conviction. 'If anyone can do it, my son can.'

'Why him?' Sam asked, puzzled. 'What makes him so different to all the others you've ruined with that beautiful monstrosity?'

Julie grabbed her titanic pillar of flesh with both hands, such an action only serving to emphasise how ridiculously oversized it was. 'This made him, so if anyone can take it, it should be him,' she stated with simple conviction. Before she could go any further, she was interrupted by her son's poorly aborted moan. Almost in sync, the mothers turned to look at Pat, only to find him staring with undisguised lust at that which resided between his mother's legs. 'Well, ladies,' Julie said, voice eager, as she stalked toward her son. 'That sounds like my call.'

'The potion should have completed its work by now anyway,' the priestess stated, following Julie towards the bath. The other mothers, minds no longer occupied with the purported impossibility of the task Julie had set herself, followed the two gorgeous women back toward their sons.

Recognising that it was his poorly muffled moan bringing the mothers towards them, Pat, once again, felt the burning blush of embarrassment colouring his face red. Regardless of his intense mortification, though, his gaze was held captive by the mesmerising motions of her humungous cock as she walked toward him; despite it bobbing about as she walked, it seemed to be leading her toward him, pulling her along like some demented magnet.

In what seemed like an instant, she stood above him, feet spread apart and hands on hips, looking down at him with an expression eclipsing mere hunger; she was starving, and he was the meal. With what felt like Herculean effort, he managed to tear his gaze away from her colossal dick, meeting her intense stare. They locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity before she, calm and controlled, reached down and grabbed a handful of his hair.

Using her grip to guide him, she tugged him out of the bath until he kneeled between her spread legs, face shadowed by her mightly endowment. Without changing position or releasing her grip on him, she hunched over him, nearly hitting his face with her immense cock. Unable to see her, Pat waited with bated breath to see what was to happen next.

He didn't have to wait long. SMACK! SMACK! She slapped both his ass cheeks harshly, resulting in a blend of sharp pain and fuzzy pleasure he loved before she roughly inserted her index finger into his boi-pussy. Finger shaped like a hook, Julie pulled him into a new position; no longer was he kneeling, instead, he now sat on his feet, knees wide with his back arched, sticking out his ass.

SMACK! SMACK! She gave each ass cheek another slap before standing upright. By this point, Pat was nearly a gibbering mess, his penis not having flagged since soon after entering the room.

Despite the deluge of sensation, Pat dimly registered that he was somehow bone dry; the milky contents of the bath hadn't left him wet like any regular liquid. 'Mom, my dick... please... cum, I need to cum,' he forced out, his mind so under the thrall of desire he struggled to speak.

'Hm,' she mused, looking at the other mothers helping their now nearly-hairless sons from the bath. 'This'll need to be quick.' Pat could have sobbed at hearing he was finally about to receive some relief. Having something vaguely like permission, he reached down to touch his throbbing erection; despite never having been told by his mother not to touch himself, some unknown instinct had prevented such an action until now.

Before his hands could reach his cock, his mother, seeing where he intended to touch, yanked harshly on his hair. His attempt at self-pleasure was quickly aborted, his hands desperately returning northward to clutch his mother's hand in the hope of preventing another tug.

'Wha-,' he gasped out in pain.

'Silence!' his mother sternly commanded him. 'Remember what I said about doing what you're told?' she questioned, receiving a passionate series of nods from her son. 'Good. Then, listen as it's time for your next lesson-you aren't EVER,' she raised her voice, shaking Pat's head by his hair for further emphasis. 'To touch that cock. Do you understand?'

Despite knowing his mother's response would likely be severe, Pat had to know how he was to orgasm if he couldn't stimulate his penis. 'Mom, h-how am I meant to cum if I can't touch my... cock?' Her punishment was swift, if surprisingly not as harsh as he had anticipated, as she hit him again in the face with her massive meat club.

SMACK! I'm never telling her that getting hit in the face with her delicious dick is more a reward than a punishment...

'DON'T interrupt,' she ordered firmly. 'To answer your question... well, you'll learn about that soon enough, trust me. Anyway, for lesson two, just like you don't have a dick, you no longer have an asshole. From now on, you have a boi-pussy or a boi-cunt. You're only ever to refer to your hot, tight little hole as such from here on out. Do you understand?' Seeing an expression of pleasured compliance upon his face, his mother smiled. 'Good.'

'Lastly, as I said before, your only concern about pleasure is how you should provide mine. Yours is secondary. In the future, if you ever ask to cum, you will be punished severely. I decide when and if you are worthy of cuming. Now, if you're a good boy and abide by the rules, you'll never need to worry about blowing your little cummies, as I'll leave those testicles empty.'

Apparently done with laying down the law, at least for now, she let go of his hair but kept her hand on the top of his head. 'Are we ready to go, ladies?' She asked the other mothers in the room as if nothing had happened.

'We've been waiting on you, bitch,' Sam joked, looking at them with lust.

No longer spellbound by his mother and her agonisingly pleasurable ministrations, Pat took the opportunity to look around. Although he had noticed the other mothers sporting similar appendages to his mother when they appeared, he had given them little attention, too focused on what lay between his mother's legs. Now that he had a moment, however brief, his eyes feasted on the myriad of mommy meat around him.

None of them came even close to his mother's prodigious size. Despite such, however, none were by any means little; all of them, compared to their sons, had massive members, with none less than the biggest boy's size multiplied many times over.

It was, without doubt, the single most erotic sight Pat had ever seen: all those mothers standing around, gorgeous enough to shame supermodels, dolled up to the nines, with these humungous hole-wreckers standing proud between their thighs as they casually chatted back and forth.

If you had asked me last week, I would have denied ever wanting this, but now... I wouldn't trade this for the world!

The mothers moving with purpose broke Pat from his observations. By this time, the other mothers had their sons on their knees around the bath. 'Mothers,' the priestess began standing at the exit. 'Bring your sluts. It is time.'

At that, the mothers, in strange sync, grabbed a handful of their son's hair and led them, crawling, towards the door on their knees until they were in a straight line. At this point, Pat absently noticed that the order of the line corresponded to the respective dick size of each mother; they were obviously first, with Sam and Joe in third. Once they were all lined up and ready to go, the priestess bade them stand. 'On your feet, sluts.'

As Pat and the other boys moved into position, the mothers, again in weird synchronisation, manoeuvred their sons tight against them, their great spears of flesh pushed down to peak between lush quivering thighs. Looking down, Pat, mind numb from a heady combination of potion and pleasure, couldn't help but giggle at the totally bizarre sight of his utterly minuscule cock and testicles resting on his mother's pale python as it stood out from between his thighs, like a monster peeking from its cave.

His giggle didn't last long, though, as he realised that despite his thick thighs, a feminine feature he had always felt self-conscious about, hiding a good amount of her gargantuan cock, enough was left sticking out in front of him to leave pornstars feeling lacking; his heavy gulp was, he figured, similar to the noise her hole-wrecker would make as she first forced it through his trembling, twitching defence into his tiny, tight boi-cunt.

At some unspoken signal, the mothers, chests flush with their sons' backs, bent forward, taking their Whore with them, before grabbing them just behind their knees and, while standing straight, lifted them off the ground. This new position tested Pat's flexibility; he was now bent in half, his thighs bracketing his torso, feet dangling in front of him. And that wasn't the only thing dangling, Pat realised; no longer resting on his mother's womanhood, his cock and little balls were left hanging for all to see, as well as his pink, pulsing boi-cunt.

After figuring out that his hands were most comfortable placed over his mother's far larger ones, he stared at the cornucopia of sinful, sexy delight in front of him. And stared. And then, stared some more.

Sweet fuck! This has to be, without any fucking doubt, the hottest thing I've EVER seen! Fuck, I've got a feeling I'll be saying that a lot!

And what a sight it was! With each of the Whore-sons being held aloft by their gorgeous mother, the women were on display; Pat didn't know where to look, be it above the waist or below, as there was so much he wanted to see. As the women showed off their sluts to each other, like so much meat, his eyes darted around as if he was following a fast-forwarded tennis match. Pat gazed at the mothers' beautiful faces as they grinned and laughed while jostling their sluts in their arms. He goggled at the mothers' cleavage, so bountiful that, for each and all, it spilled out to the side of their son's torso. He stared at the mothers' exquisite legs, their muscles emphasised by their towering high heels. But, most of all, he gaped at each of their bitch breakers, goliaths compared to the pitiful cock's above them, as they stood stiff, throbbing and bouncing with lust and desire.

The voice of the priestess interrupted Pat from his lustful appraisal. 'And don't worry sluts,' the priestess purred, voice oozing pure sensuality as she feasted on the sight of Whore-cunt, all tight, twitching and vulnerable. 'You'll have the rest of your lives to spend on your knees in worship at your mother's feet.' At that, she pushed open the doors, leading them out onto the next stage of their journey.

———x———

As he was carried through the doors, Pat noticed that the groups that had entered the other doors around the room were also returning; like him and the other sons in his group, all of the Sluts were being carried in the same position, their mothers holding them up, exposing their everything. And, although he could only see so much, Pat realised that he wasn't the only one dwarfed by his mother's behemoth cock; the heavy weapon dangling between his mother's muscular yet feminine thighs made those of the other mothers that he could see, look positively puny by comparison.

Belatedly, Pat realised that the room from which they had previously left to enter the Romanesque baths had totally changed; unlike earlier when the ostentatious chamber was empty except for the large doors they were now entering from, there were now twenty-five tables and some strange, what Pat guessed to be, chairs, circling a throne that was simultaneously floating and rotating. On the tables were three items, with only the human-sized collar identifiable to Pat; what the other two objects were, some tiny, pink plastic contraption and a hunk of gleaming, shiny metal, was a mystery.

Reaching what Pat assumed to be their table, his mother stopped, waiting while those yet to find their own area moved around them. While they stood, Julie, to Pat's mortification, was not idle; while keeping him aloft, she swung her hips so that bitch breaker rhythmically slapped his boi-cunt and cock. Both the son and mother duo, the latter looking over the shoulder of the former, couldn't take their eyes off of the arousing image; her hole-wrecker was literally reinforcing its already evident superiority by clubbing his twitching, leaking dicklet. Each meaty thump quickly drew the attention of the other mothers who had found their places around them.

'You're one randy bitch, aren't you?' taunted an unfamiliar woman to Pat and Julie's immediate right. The soon-to-be-incesteous duo turned to look at who had spoken. Pat, at this point, was ready to admit that he was ludicrously attracted to girlcock; if such wasn't already apparent to him in the sign of his tiny cock being rock hard and leaking thin strands of cum, then his immediate reaction when confronted with a beautiful woman was to picture her forcing her long, thick, fat cock forcing its way inside him, should make such clear.

'Randy?' questioned Pat's mother as she continued slowly but surely pummeling his whorehood into submission with heavy slaps of her fat cock. 'Lustful? Passionate? Fucking none,' she growled, shaking Pat roughly, causing his cocklet to spin like the world's smallest helicopter blade. 'Come even close to describing how I've desired this day.' Pat, at this point, was, quite literally, just along for the ride. 'I've dreamt,' she laughed with dark relief. 'About moulding this little whore into being my perfect, cocksheathe for fucking years!'

'I can't wait to see it,' their beautiful neighbour replied, voice thick with desire. So great was her lust that she started to unconsciously mimic Julia, gyrating her hips and smacking the whore in her arms with her massive meat. Despite his heady high, Pat noticed that while their neighbour's length was not as prodigious as his mother's, she still seemed to get the job done; her slow thrusts resulted in her fat girlcock knocking on the entrance to her son's most sacred place, leaving him with a rapturous expression decorating his feminine face.

Eventually, when Pat couldn't be bothered to identify, the two mothers started to move in sexy synchronisation. 'There's nothing quite like breaking a boy, is there?' their neighbour panted. 'A boy expects to fuck, not be fucked, so when you do fuck them, you take something from them. You fuck the masculinity right out of them, their trapped cock leaking it out, drop by fucking drop, onto the floor.' Before the other mother could accidentally start fucking her son, they were interrupted by the loud chime of a bell from the direction of the floating and rotating throne that everything and everyone seemed to be arrayed around.

Immediately, Pat noticed the formerly empty throne now had an occupant.

When did she get there? Ah well, it wasn't like I was paying attention anyway! Pat thought with amusement.

Sitting on the throne was a woman wearing what initially appeared to be a wedding dress with a veil. However, Pat noticed that, like the priestess from outside, the cleavage dipped deep, revealing her massive pale breasts; despite her prodigiously impressive mammaries, they didn't hold Pat's attention captive for long. On the contrary, as soon as Pat saw her puffy pink nipples, he was already looking past them, focusing his gaze on her pelvis, searching for the atypical feature shared by all of these gorgeous goddesses. And sure enough, he found what he was looking for: a thick, fat cock nearly rivalling his mother in size. Besides said impressive dimensions, the only difference Pat could determine between it and the other pale pythons hanging between the legs of the lustful mothers around him was a wide crimson ring of plastic at its base.

The second chime of that unseen bell interrupted Pat from his perusal of the throne's occupant. In the silence that followed, a quick glance around him revealed to Pat that all the mother and son duos had found a table to stand next to. He also noticed that surrounding the group in a circle, with great space between them, were the priestesses from before.

'Mothers,' purred the priestess from the throne above them all, 'you have gathered here today to present your sons as potential Sluts for the Sisterhood. For many of you, this will be your first time breaking a boy or even a son. For others, this ritual will be simply one among many. Regardless of your experience, the laws will be followed. The rules will be obeyed. If you feel unable, or if you have reconsidered your decision to offer your male to the Sisterhood, now is your one and only have to retreat.' To the surprise of no one, everyone stayed.

Despite the distance between them, Pat could see the grin on the sitting priestess's face, as none of the mothers present chose to save their sons from whatever process they were about to undergo. 'Good,' she laughed, her voice tinkling like running water. 'Very good. It's been many years since I last saw sisters as, shall we say... determined as all of you. Let us hope,' her voice turned cruel and mocking. 'That your efforts at dipping your wicks aren't thwarted by the male meat you have all chosen to offer. For those of you who somehow don't know, we, the Sisterhood, only accept Sluts who cum from their mother's womanhood alone, with no other aid or intervention to hasten their pathetic ejaculate. We still hold to the old teachings: a boy may be nice and tight but he only becomes a Sisterhood whore if he takes dick right.'

After a brief but pregnant pause, the relined priestess continued. 'Now that the formalities have been dealt with, we shall commence with the initiation, placing your sons on the first step of the path to whoredom. Mothers,' the priestess ordered, her voice no longer cold but dripping with unconcealed desire. 'Position your sons.'

At her prompting, Julia and the other mothers present slid their sons from their grasp into the strange chair positioned next to their table. Pat, his attention now being concentrated on what he was being lowered into, gave it greater scrutiny. This thing looks like one of those chairs I've seen in videos of beautiful women having their backs and heads massaged. And, indeed, it was for the most part; it had a comfortable cushioned cut-out in which Pat could rest his face, looking at his feet positioned below, to enable a masseuse easy access to his back and neck, alongside places to lean his arms and legs.

However, he immediately experienced two significant differences between the seat compared to that which he had seen on the internet; first, rather than being built for his comfort, the contraption seemed deliberately constructed to both arch his lower back to emphasise the opening to his boi-pussy as much as possible and give unrestricted access to his dangling cock and little balls. And secondly, unlike any other similar set-up he had seen, there were thick leather straps, presumably to keep him locked into the redesigned massage chair.

Between what seemed to Pat as one moment and the next, his mother was done securing the last strap that kept his face pressed tightly into the cushioned cut-out; the design of the chair had his neck tilted in such a way that he was just able to make out his unimpressive manhood hanging between his spread legs. Seeing him testing his restraints and finding himself fully secured, unable to move, totally at her mercy, had Julia draping herself over him, whispering into his ear as the other mothers around them finished tying down their sons. 'You look so hot like this my little whore,' she hissed. 'So fucking hot!'

Despite the many different things Par could ask a question about, he decided to address the most recent unknown. 'What's a whore?' he gasped, lust, desire and other foreign feelings leaving him short of breath.

'Hmm,' his mother hummed as she lightly bit his ear and rhythmically squeezed the tip of his leaking cock with her forefinger and thumb, her hand having ventured between his legs as soon as he was bound into place. 'What's a whore? It's what you're soon going to be.'

'But what is it?' Pat questioned again, his voice tight with frustration from her two-fold avoidance; she wouldn't answer his question, and she wouldn't touch his cock with anything more gratifying than a tickle.

'I would've expected my smart boy to have clued in by now,' Julia replied, voice heavy with mock disappointment. 'The potion must have done quite a number on you, so I guess I'll have to be blunt. A whore is a boy who cums from his cock every time he gets his boi-pussy stuffed with girlcock.' When she mentioned her anatomical anomaly, she placed its massive head at the entrance to his boi-cunt, leaving it there, softly kissing his opening.

'Y-you're going to put... that in me. There's no way it'll fit!'

'You aren't the first today to think my little lady is too big to fit into your little boi-pussy,' Julia admitted. 'But don't worry, I'm going to make it fit. And, sure, it might hurt a bit at first, but you'll bear with it. I know you will. Because if you don't...,' she trailed off threateningly. 'Well, we don't need to get into that. Anyway, I'm sure you'll love it. I mean, you've been leaking like crazy from your cock ever since I stuck my finger in your delicious, little boi-cunt. Imagine then, how much this,' at that, she lightly pushed her mushroom tip against his clenched entrance. 'Will feel better all the way deep in your insides.'

With that ominous yet potentially pleasurable promise, she stood straight again, her hands on her hips. However, she did not remove the tip of her whore-maker from between Pat's pale, luscious cheeks; after all, Julia reckoned, it wouldn't do for him to forget what was coming for him.

'Now that your soon-to-be-Sluts are strapped in, we can get this show on the road,' the sitting priestess announced. After a brief pause, the purpose of which Pat supposed was to give the mothers one final chance to savour the rewards of their patience, the priestess, in unison with her robe-clad sisters surrounding the group of mothers and sons, started to chant.

'We, anointed sisters of the Sisterhood, witness to this offering. Ye mothers, you offer your sons to be Sluts of the Sisterhood. Doth thou know what this entails?'

'Yes,' answered the mothers as one, all serious and solemn, a stark contrast to their earlier rambunctiousness.

'We anointed sisters witness your understanding. As it was before, and by the grace of the Goddess, it will always be, this ceremony heralds the transformation of your sons into Sluts. As we are conduits for the gaze of our mighty Goddess, creator of our race, we will witness this transfiguration. Let the first step of the sacred process begin. Mothers, insert into your sons the butt plug, that tangible expression of your conquering and permanent ownership of his boi-pussy.'

Together, the mothers lifted from the table in front of the chairs their sons were strapped in, the long but narrow piece of metal Pat had seen before, presenting it to their son's faces. 'Lick this,' Julia, unseen by Pat due to her position behind him, ordered sternly.

Seemingly predicting his reluctance, Julia appeared in Pat's limited line of vision, squatting parallel to the floor, butt plug still in hand. Despite the immediacy of his predicament, Pat couldn't help staring at his mother's long, fat girl cock as it lazily swung like a pendulum between her thighs, touching the floor and leaving bright streaks of pre-cum.

'Lick. This. Now!' Pat's mother ordered once more, her expression thunderous. Remembering her promise of pain for any signs of non-compliance from earlier, he reluctantly opened his mouth before starting to gingerly lick the cold, cool metal.

'Good whore,' she praised, tone satisfied. 'Very good. And, despite how unpleasant you might find this task now, believe me, this'll save you a world of pain later when I make you my cocksheethe.' Deciding to trust her, as he didn't have much of a choice either way, Pat continued his task until he had coated the entire object with his saliva. Once he was done, Julia pressed the plug against the base of his groin, next to his straining cock, using the comparison to emphasise how he was dwarfed by it.

'Look how positively excited your cock is,' she cooed, her mockery causing Pat's boi-pussy to twitch. Then, moving slowly to give Pat time to understand and simmer in humiliation, she moved the slick butt plug next to her gargantuan girldick; next to her womanhood, the butt plug that had dwarfed his little cock, was, in turn, totally outsized by her.

'It's actually a joke, isn't it?' she mused. 'That this little thing is somehow supposed to get you ready to take this.' So saying, she shook her third leg to emphasise the absolutely ludicrous size difference; even her hand, so much bigger than Pat's, couldn't wrap around it. 'Ah, well, better something little,' as she described its diminutive size, she made repeated glances between it and Pat's cocklet, emphasising his tinyness. 'Than nothing at all.'

Apparently done for the moment humiliating her son, Julia moved out of his line of vision behind him. Pat, dithering about whether he wanted to go through with this or refuse and accept the no doubt horrible punishment his mother had devised for such an eventuality, failed to anticipate his mother's lack of patience. With a heavy slap to his backside, Julia started to push the lubed-up butt plug into him with gentle but unrelenting force. 'I've been told it helps if you push out while I push in,' she commented as if forcing nearly six inches of metal into her son's backside using his spit as lube was a typical experience shared between mothers and sons.

For Pat, the whole experience was as far from mundane as possible, as his opening fought a titanic struggle against the wide would-be intruder.

'Aw, I'm sure it's difficult, honey, but you need to let it in!' Julia commiserated, voice dripping with faux sympathy.

Before Pat could gather breath to respond, his entrance, unable to hold against such a determined onslaught, started to give and open. Feeling the first wide inch enter him, Pat gave voice to his only thought.

'FUUUUUuuuuccck!'

———x———

Pat's entire world had become his boi-pussy; nothing else mattered. So much so, if he could form whole, coherent sentences, he most likely would have commented how Batman, naked for nought but his famous cowl, could have kicked the door in, wielding Superman's laser vision via his severed head to slay everyone there, and, despite such a spectacle, Pat wouldn't have given it a second glance, nay, not even a second thought.

As his mother somehow, paradoxically, gently forced the lubed-up metal butt plug into his boi-cunt, Pat's entire world changed. Before his mother pried open his now-burning ring, the idea of penetration had remained just that, an idea. Now, though, Pat was experiencing the visceral reality of having his insides rearranged. The feeling was like nothing he could describe, even if he was capable of such eloquence at that moment.

Despite the suddenness of the penetration and its unrelenting conductor, he, strangely, despite all his expectations, didn't feel any pain whatsoever. Instead, at least for the first few inches, all he felt was a strange pressure; as his mother fed her tool of domination deeper into him, despite the anatomical impossibility of such, he couldn't help but picture everything in his body making way, like the inverse of a pregnant woman giving birth.

Not only was the object wielded by his mother penetrating him physically, thereby scrambling his insides but so too was it puncturing his understanding of his body; previously, he would have sworn that his then ass, now boi-pussy, was unable to really feel. Sure, his brain could interpret the pressure experienced when he answered nature's calling, but never before had he been able to feel detail. Now, though? Now, despite his absolute confidence that the heavy implement had been perfectly smooth, he imagined he could still feel everything about it: every imperfection, bump and ridge.

Although the first few inches of the precursor to his mother's bitch breaking womanhood had been intense, there had been little identifiable sensation other than the previously mentioned pressure. Suffice to say, that soon changed. With enough in him to not have to worry about it slipping out, Julia explored Pat's quivering walls as she steadily pushed deeper, searching to find that secret spot in her whore's body that only a mother knew about. With her experience moulding sons into sluts, it wasn't long before she found it.

'WHOA!' Pat shouted, straining against his restraints, as his mother touched some new spot inside him, lighting up his mind with pleasure. 'W-what is that? Why does that feel so good?' he moaned, his mind so lost to the bliss he missed his mother repositioning herself, leaving her standing next to him, one hand firmly clutching a handful of his hair, the other feeding his hungry hole, with her titanic cock supporting the weight of his measly hanging whorehood.

Seeing that she had successfully located his p-spot, Julie gave it a good few prods, feeling his watery cummies spurt out his yet uncaged cock onto her cock.

That, she mused, was pathetic, but hopefully, it should make for an easier breaching.

While his mother briefly lost herself to thoughts of lube, Pat's world was rocked; each press by his mother on that strange, new spot inside of him left him gasping as white hot trails of pleasure shot from his spasming boi-pussy up his spine, leaving his mind blank, his eyes twitching and periodically straining against his confines.

Her brief mental sojourn over, Julie resumed her tool-assisted anal assault on her son; she couldn't help letting out a laugh as she saw the comical expressions adorning his son's face; it wasn't unlike the posters of animated foreign girls she had seen decorating her son's bedroom walls. Her loud expression of amusement didn't go unnoticed as those other mothers in their immediate vicinity, despite their lustful ministrations, looked over to find the origin of the sound so different from the cacophony of whimpering moans dominating the space. As soon as those mothers who had heard spotted Pat's screwed-up face, they, too, joined in with Julie's tickling laughter.

'Well,' said their nameless neighbour. 'That's a face I haven't seen before. He must be the biggest anal slut ever if he's so mind fucked already and you've barely even started. You'll be some pair: the bitch with the biggest dick and the bitch with the biggest hunger for dick.' So saying, she and their other observers returned to finish plugging their sluts if they had not already done so.

During all this, Pat wasn't aware of anything; he was still drifting on clouds of pleasurable nirvana. However, his holiday to heaven was soon interrupted when he felt the dull thunk of his mother's hand as she hilted the butt plug in his boi-cunt.

'Is it all in?' he gasped, disbelieving that such a large object, regardless of how puny compared to his mother it may be, was able to fit inside him. Belatedly he realised that he had not stopped pushing backwards, restrained as he was, onto his mother's weapon of feminisation for the entire duration of the butt plugs journey into his boi-cunt.

As Julie completed the violation of his fleshy rear, she was not silent. Deciding in the small amount of time available to indulge her fetish for dirty talk once more as the slower mothers had yet to finish, she mercilessly teased her blossoming whore.

'Is what all in?' she joked. All the while, she thrust the last half inch of the long oblong butt plug in and out of her whore's swollen opening, making sure to rub Pat's girly spot inside as much as possible. 'Are you talking about that teeny, tiny butt plug?' For each adjective for the diminutive, she was sure to roll her hips smacking that between his legs which was dwarfed by the butt plug that currently had taken respite in his virgin boi-pussy with her massive slab of cockmeat.

'I'm surprised you could feel anything that small. I know I sure wouldn't. Then again, I don't have much experience being penetrated. Believe it or not, you, my sweet, have more experience with that than me already. I've always been the penetrator and I always will be.'

Once more, Pat couldn't help but savour that bizarre cocktail of shameful arousal; at no point previous in his life before this entire eye, or more appropriately, ass-opening experience, would he have ever thought that he would become powerfully aroused at being humiliated. The very idea that he would always be the one to be penetrated during their sexual congress, a dynamic so taboo and unorthodox, nearly had him fainting from lust.

'I see someone's got a humiliation kink,' his mother commented, dragging his mind back to the moment. Confused at how his mother could divine his thoughts so accurately, he did his best to turn his bound head towards her.

'How did y-.' Before he finished his question, she displayed her apparent mind-reading prowess yet again.

'How did I know? Well, I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but every time I remind you your position you almost faint with lust. But,' she purred, slowly trailing a sharp nail down his spine, causing him to shake and shiver. 'That just makes you even more perfect for me because I love reminding you of the new order of things: you beneath me and me above you in every sense.'

So saying, Julie lightly grazed his constrained, dribbling dickwith her foot before turning her gaze back towards the centre of the room. 'After all,' she said, voice low and dark with possessiveness, her foot still pressed between his legs. 'This no longer belongs to you. That puny little thing you once thought of as a penis is mine now. My cock. I've always wanted one, my love, especially when I was a little girl and found out that was what normal girls had, but now I've got the best of both worlds. A big fat cock and a girly cock. Mine, to do with as I please.'

'Sisters, the ultimate step of the Trinity of the Taking approaches,' intoned the buxom-throned figure. The only difference this time was when she spoke, she was not alone, as the other priestesses stationed around the cavernous room joined in with a strange combination of solemnity and glee. 'With blessings from the Goddess and this clan, proceed now with the last.'

At that, Pat's mother lifted the final object from the table. Upon closer inspection (when Pat was distracted by a bountiful visual feast of big bouncing girl cock), it was clearly a collar of thin white leather with a small silver bell attached, cushioned on the inside with some plush fabric.

'Last but not least,' Pat heard Julie murmur softly from his side as she slowly twirled the collar with an almost absentminded nostalgia. Despite the plain sentimentality of the moment for his mother, Pat didn't have to wait long before she was again focused upon him with predatory anticipation. 'You'll enjoy this next part, of that, I have no doubt,' she stated with concrete surety.

As had been the case for the entirety of the proceedings, Pat could do nought but lie there, trussed upon like a Christmas pig, as his mommy mistress secured her final symbol of ownership around his neck. And what a potent symbol it was. Although the cage was humiliating, he could only really feel it when he was aroused (which, admittedly, had been a near-constant problem since this whole thing had started, barring a few moments of pain or fright).

In contrast, Pat felt the collar and thus thought of his mother, her mammoth mommy meat and her ownership of him every time he took a breath. He. Fucking. Loved. It. If it wasn't already plain in his quickened breath, rosy cheeks and dilated pupils, then the quickly growing puddle of his thin, watery cum as it dribbled out of his tightly trapped cock onto the floor was ample evidence of his enjoyment. A less obvious sign of his excitement, one wasted on the unfeeling but plug, was his ass as it griped and massaged the now less unfamiliar intruder.

Giving his caged whorehood a rough shake, getting thin streams of cum nearly everywhere, his mother gave a fond chuckle. 'I knew you would love this. A mother always knows... I can't tell you just how glad I am that you're taking to this so well. So much better than you're brother, or even your father. You've made me so proud, Pat. And don't you worry, you'll be well rewarded. I'll give you such a pounding, you'll never forget.'

My brother? Alex? She fucked Alex? Before Pat could concentrate on that jealousy-inducing train of thought, his focus was interrupted by the floating throne descending from its previous position until it touched the floor, remaining stationary. As its occupant finally stood, Pat's suspicions of her womanhood being less in both length and girth than his mother's was confirmed; she was no less beautiful, however, even if she couldn't compare to his mother's truly one-of-a-kind hole-ruiner.

'Congratulations, sluts,' the formerly seated priestess said with pride as she walked between the incestuous pairs as she headed towards a door that had not been there a moment before. 'This eve, you have all taken the first step of many to becoming the sluts your mothers know you can be. Mothers, you may adjourn for a short while, during which we will prepare the altar. Now, a warning for the more, shall we say eager amongst you: during this brief reprieve, you are not to penetrate your whore nor allow him to cum. If you do, the consequences shall be severe. I will not do you the disservice of asking if you understand such plain wording.'

Only once she had completed her speech, such being in perfectly in sync with her arriving at the mysterious door, did she turn around, pausing briefly to deliver one last parting statement:

'Bedicked Woman above all,

Standing proud, standing tall,

Caged male, at our feet,

Pliant and begging for our glorious meat.'

At that, she left, leaving a silence as loud as it was brief: almost immediately, conversation broke out.

'What happens now?' Pat asked, almost afraid of the answer after everything that had happened since he had left the warm embrace of the bath.

'Now?' Julie repeated, grinning as she grabbed her girlcock by the base and slapped it into the palm of her other hand, like a caricature of an old-fashioned English booby-on-the-beat. 'Now we can really get started...!'