Fair warning. This is fucked up but there is legitimate light ij the end. But it is a very disturbing bumpy ride. Utterly sick beforeas happy an ending as can be hoped for.

My mother always made me feel so dirty and diagusting for committing the sin in her eyes of being born a male. When i learned to play with myself i would frequently out of hurt and anger put my s**** in her shampoo and conditioner and lotion. Since to her a p**** was the most revolting thing possible i eventually turned that teen hurt and anger into rage that had me even low dosing her food or drinks with s**** or urine. Once when she was already so drunk she cpuld not walk to the kitchen so she told me to bring her more wine and since i had trained myself to pee or m********* quickly on demand i even poured her a glass of wine (chardonnay) and managed to quickly plunge the head of my c*** into the wine and watch as the globs of my c** spurted and comgealed in the wine. So damn drunk she never saw it and didnt realize when she titlted the glass and downed it as i sat there and watched the globs slide down the side of her glass and straight into her mouth. She never even flinched. At that point my perverted desire to degrade her got even worse. One afternoon i used a raw baking hen carcass for dinner rom the fridge as a s** object and dumped my sperm into the cavity. Karma got me because i damn near shredded the head of my p**** on the ribs. When she made me make her eggs i would put my c** in them and she just assumed it was the white stringers from the egg. I eventually got so out of control angry that when she was dead asleep drunk or passed out i would go into her room. I started masturbatimg into her bra and p**** drawers in her dresser while she snored like Otis the Drunk. Masturbated on her pillows while she was gone. Of course sometimes she realized and i would get the hairbrush or belt. I no longer cared i would be fighting the tears as she beat my bare a** and i planned my next perverted revenge. It was a sick sad cycle that was self propagating I realized that it was a product of her prediction of what i would become but i didnt care. I knew all thst and still only made it worse on myself. It got so blatant. When i got home from school while she was at work i would m********* into her bras and p****** and leave them on her bed to find. We were in a years lomg cycle of mutual assured destruction and hate or at least contempt. The f’d up high point of the war was since her alcoholism had gotten so bad that it was how she got to sleep. Iif she passed out in the living room i would carry her to put her in bed and undress her to skeep naked, so she knewni had done it when she woke up naked in bed knowing she had not gotten herself there and didnt sleep naked. She never mentioned those nights though, much less put me head down a** up for a hairbrush or belt. For someone who found the male body repulsive she sure made sure i was naked and humiliated at hairbrush and belt time. What she did do, however, is start taking smaller alleged offenses to a higher level. Simply forgetting to do the dishes or take out the trash? Out they came. Crying and cursing her with my face buried in the carpet or bedsheet while she lit my bare cheeks up. This was old school, no neighbors called CPS when they heard the screaming, not evem the time she was so pissed because i did not mow the lawn when she expected so that bare assed spanking was in the back yard in daylight (there were thick tall privacy hedges though). If she actually did stagger drunk to bed i would wait until she was dead asleep and undress her just to mess with her head. A couple of times i even pulled her p****** off m********* into them and pull them back on her to make her think she wet herself passed out. Sometimes simply slipping the covers down to piss directly on her p****** while she was still in them. The lowest of low points…maybe anyway….i was trapped in rage and hurt and hate but she was also the only one i had. All each other had. It was not always like this but when you degrade a child so completely and brainwash them to see themselves as a contemptible piece of ahit because of what gendee they are….i am not sure what other oucome any same person would expect. Eventually alhough very rare, if i took her to bed and undressed her…yeo, masturbated over her, breasts or belly finishes. Obviously she would find it when she woke, and since she never dated or had men over, prettty obvious what had happened. The first time i was ready to puke over what i had done. Deathly afraid of when she woke up. Even accepted that i was facing the inevitable when she woke and realized and was utterly furious about such a direct disgusting violation. So i was waiting on my bed with bare a** up toward the door when i heard her calling me. Each approaching footstep of doom like thunder. Hearing her gasp whem she walked in and there i was presenting the target. Belt and hairbrush beside me ready for use. And an alien softness in her voice….what have you done? Me? Please mom just get it over with we both know what i did. Silence, and she approaches. Are you sure this is what you want? I was choking back the sobs. Please mom.

It just didnt seem as brutal as before or should have beem. Belt only, which she knew to me was the gentlest of the two options. Longer than usual for sure. More time to catch my breath between strikes of the belt acoss my cheeks and backs of my thighs. Weirdest part? The cool wet towel laid on my skin after. The gentle pat of a hand on a cheek. A calm statement of thinking i had learned my lesson, punishment fitting the crime. Then as if nothing happened.

That was only until the next time she waa blitzed, then it was good ole raging mom. It was months before i repeated that degradation again. I didnt have the integrity to oresent myself for punishment this time. The fact that i had defiled her was too crippling. No, this time we were at the table finishing dinner and matter of factly she said thst we nesed to address what i had done again. Looking at me deadpan. You know what i expect, she said. I will be there in a moment. And i wemt to my room got into position with a chill in my bare skin. She approacheeld, i heard her pick up the hairbrush, and she said no, i think in my room since that is where this dirty litrle deed happens. And next thing you know i am screaming for mercy as she lights me up like never befforem. Panicked sobbing but she is merciless and silent. I was a wreck of guilt and shame as much as pain. Then my ankles get pulled apart and her nails are in my g******* yanking them in a direction they were not meant to be yanked and she locks her fingers in my hair yanks my head back and curses me the only time she ever did. If you ever j******* on me again i will cut these disgusting things off and break your f****** neck.

If you were hoping for an e***** ending, sorry to disappoint. This is not that kind of story.

THEN she left. Came back with the belt not a cool wet towel. Really lit me up. At some point even handles me to position my g******* were trapped between my clenched thighs and pretty sure many of those strikes were targeted. I end up on my stomach retching. Tried to crawl away. All that got me was body wide belt strikes. The best demon movie could have learned a thing or two about demonic fury and demonic foul language. And eventually it was over and she was gone. I eventually fell asleep sobbing in a naked puddle of pain and shame on thr floor. She told me the next morning she had called school to report me out for a week, death in the family. We didnt speak for longer than that. Silent dinners. Finally one evening without looking at me she simply said i neesed to realize she could forgive it once but to have done it twice was deliberate. That she had been right, those ugly parts of me were making me bad, a perversion. Any mother would have done what she did.

Eventually things got back to “normal”. But within a few weeks the drinking started again. I guess she was tired of sleeping passed out drunk on the sofa. Drunk as f*** she says to hug her goodnight. Syrupy sweet voice asks me to carry mommy to bed. I did. Left her in her clothes. Rinse repeat a few nights later i lay her in her bed and she says wont you help get mommy undressed for bed? I did and still left, shaking, sure i was being tested. But when i turn to leave? Make sure you dont come back in here when you j******* do it in your room. G******* that woman, exactly what i did. The next morning at breakfast, she tells me she saw what i did on my sheets and she warned me what would happen. Sick to my stomach i turn to go to my room and wait for it. She grabbed my arm, no, here, she said. Pats her hsnd on the table, tells me to drop pants. Then just to be a b**** tells me to get her the wooden spoon from the catch all on the stove. Loving mother that she was she gives me a folded clean dishrag and tells me to bite down on it. She decides to warm me up by hand before the spoon as i am bent over the dining room table with my pants around my ankles. Once i am sobbing she puts a hand on back of one of my knees and tells me to spread like before. I nearly puked knowing what was coming. She reaches between grabs and pulls back hard and tells to clamp my legs together. Made those deliberate strikes easier i guess. I was there sobbing in pain until my legs began to buckle. She stopped and sat there with a drink and a cigarette reminding me how everything she warned me about had come true. About how she was worried about me going away to school because she would not be there to protect me from myself, that girls would not love me like she did, would not put up with my filth. Did i forget to mention that i was 17 by now? But hey at least since i didnt j******* on her again she didnt cut everything off.

It was a moment of clarity. She was right. Those ugly things were destroying me, making me a bad son. A n abomination. Which is why a week later when she came home from work earlier than usual she was able to intervene when she walked into my room to find me sitting bottomless straddling the corner of the big wooden cutting board, my entire g******* stretched out gripped in one hand and pressing the biggest carving knife down hard enough to draw blood but too weak or afraid to do the deed, cut off those disgusting things that kept me from being good. She gasped and started to dash for me but saw me start to force the knife down and stopped. I was sobbing and all i could keep saying was i am so sorry mom. She walked toward me slowly…baby please you cant do this please put the knife down….something in her face stopped me, and she gently took the knife away and told me she’d be right back. And she was with alcohol and gauze and medical tape. No stitches required but the rare times the scar has been seen it never gets asked about. Did just enough damage it caused a permanent upward curve in the rare erections i ever have. It was a home healing job. She actually had me start sleeping in her bed (minds out of the gutter please). I went to college locally. Every so often as we talked as we fell asleep she would mention it, making me promise to never try that again, it is wrong to try to hurt myself, how would we ever explain it to the hospital?

Once i even asked her if she would do it for me, we could be clean and careful, what if we only cut them off not everything? She only said if we were going to do that, it made more sense to cut it all off but we couldnt afford the surgery bills.

After college i got a great job and lived with her until she was killed in a drunk driving crash ( of course it was her wtf did you think?). I slept at her side every night until the day she died. The most i can offer any of you lurid types hoping for a s** ending is that 2x a year, birthday and christmas, she would tell me as we drifted off…..please wait until i am asleep before you j******* on me. And never on my face. Yeah, birthday and christmas for real. Trust me, her saying that was a definite buzz kill. Most years anyway.

She gets killed, i go into grief therapy, it all eventually comes up, 4 therapists until i lucked into one that was not horrified and handed me off to another (pass the trash anyone?). I am impossibly sane and never became a 3 part episode on Criminal Minds. Things turn out after all. Alone s**** but not as bad as living with her. I only rarely have lingering self castration urges and hypnosis to avoid m*********** works pretty well on top of finding one understanding psychiatrist willing to prescribe anti androgens. I am not Norman Bates i dont want to be mommy or have t***, i simply dont want a libido.

Sorry if thisnwas a downer on your day. Watch out for yourselves people, the monsters are everywhere and usually far closer to you than you would like to think.

My father was killed in a wreck when i was 3. My mother moved us to live with my aunt (dead father’s sister). Therapists have helped me work through the f’d up trauma bond we all suffered from for nearly 30 years. My mother and aunt were extremely possessive and intentionally raised me to believe that no other woman would love me like they did. They took their grief and loss and over compensated by smothering me as the only piece of my dead father they had left. I lived at home through college and became quite successful in my job, but the trauma bond kept me living with them anyway. Call it grooming or Stockholm syndrome or whatever you wish but i get that the reality is that they were very effective with the brainwashing As if my emotional immaturity wasn’t enough to hold me back from being drawn to girls and women as i grew, i learned after their deaths how they had worked together behind the scenes to prevent or sabotage any budding relationship i might have ever had. Both of tbem died from cancer. I am still working with a therapist to try to gain basic social skills and emotional maturity but it is a very real struggle. Thanks to their grooming i dont make the effort to date often, because i am trapped in the headspace of a woman i am drawn to may leave or abandon me or wont love me enough or i will disappoint her. And my self sabotage works both ways. I convince myself i will disappoint them. The part that both the therapist and i recognize is the worst part of all is how impossible it feels to overcome the s e x u a l detachment and desensitization. From the day my mother and i moved in with my aunt, the grief and loneliness and depression they were goimg through (i was only 3 remember) meant that ae all slept together. And since they were master manipulators, no surprise, when my body went through puberty they made sure i had that helpless attachment. They had not educated me about any of that arena, but since they kmew it was coming, they got me hooked on intimate touch (their touch on me only, i was told d not to touch them) and all three of our bare bodies every night in the shared bed. Therapit and i are discussing various things, even hypnosis, to see if there are rrepressed memories of pre puberty s** ( not that i want to know or recover such memories). It did not to my memory become s***** untl my first w********. It freaked me the f out but they “nurtured” me throigh that total ignorsncr and freak out but the dynamic shifted after that. They would touch me and teach me to touch them how they wanted. It was all touch only but they obvoously used every night of laying bare together night after night to keep me helplessly addicted to their touch and keep me hooked on o r g a s m by their hands night after night. Evemtually they taught me to pleasure them without penetration so i becsme a very capable lover to them both iremained a virgin. That changed a few days after my mother passed. In bed with my aunt that night she took my virginity. Of course it was brief but over the coming days i learned how to become a true lover to my aunt. It was addicitve and obsessive to us both. I managed to summon the courage to ask her, if this could have been happening all along, why hadnt it? She said it was the one rule my mother had i nsisted on. But with her gone, she no longer felt it was a voe she had to maintain any longer and that she deserved it even more tjsn i did. For the next 4 years my aunt and i were a couple in every way. Date nights, trips, entire weekends barely leaving the bed. One night while we were going at it very intensely she cried out my dead fsther,s name and did mot realize it. I eventually brought it up and she was horrified and i insisted on the truth. My father had been grooming my sister her entire life and even after marrying my mother he had brought his sister into his marital bed. I was told things i would never havr wanted to hear. I was confused and angry and packed and left for over a week. I came back after convincing myself that it had always been about my father, never about me at all. You would think that that ws more than enough to make me break away, but i was emotionally and s******* addicted to my aunt, amd i was terrified of being alone just ss she was. I was with her until she died and the void of that final loss drove me to therapy. The worst part? Lying awake at night longing for both of thrir hands on my body.