MAAM
TESTICLES, MINOR, Warning:  Young children
MAAM, Mothers Against Adolescent Masturbation, is a national organization with chapters in most states. The women get together once a month and commiserate with each other about their teenage kids’ vile habits and exchange tuna casserole recipes and such. Men are not welcome at these meetings.
“Men are all bastards,” Mora said, taking a sip from her glass of sacramental
Chablis. “If not for their responsibility to reproduce they all should be
castrated at puberty.” Mora had been married three times and every one of her
exes had cheated on her. Of course, her weighing three hundred pounds and
having a tongue like a viper had nothing to do with their infidelity. “All
adult males should be fitted with chastity devices,” she continued. “And they
should only be released to satisfy their reproductive obligations. Once they
have fathered a couple of kids, hopefully daughters, they should get the
knife.”

“You go girl!” Annie exclaimed. “I feel the same way. I bought a 3000 over the
Internet and make my husband wear it all of the time, except for a couple of
hours a month, of course,” she said with a sly wink. A few more of the ladies
exchanged notes about what sloppy sperm-spewing creatures that their husbands
and sons were, and each offered their personal recommendations about how to
deal with masturbation. Chastity devices seemed to be universally recommended
for men, while punishment, sanctions, and hand restraints at night were
preferred for teenage boys. The most militant advocated castration as the
ultimate cure.

Marlene sat quietly in the corner sipping a Diet Pepsi and took all of this
in. She didn’t hate men; she’d come to the meeting for information. She liked
sex, and since her husband’s death two years ago she considered her Ultra-Vibe
80 to be her best friend, and she certainly didn’t begrudge her three sons
their pursuit of pleasure. She knew, however, that if left to their own
devices the boys would spend too much of their spare time masturbating and she
hoped the support group would help her set reasonable limits to their activity
and also give her some hints about how to openly discuss the subject with the
boys. She had figured out that the meeting was a waste of time and had decided
to leave when another woman spoke up.

“Well, I solved the problem before it even became a problem,” Tina offered.

“How did you do that?” Mora asked.

“All my husband could give me were boys,” Tina explained. “I wanted girls, so
once the bastard ran out on me I turned my boys into girls.”

“Sydney and Leslie? Boys? I don’t believe it.” Annie questioned.

Tina got up and strode to the back door. “Girls, would you come in here a
minute, please?” Tina took he two daughters everywhere with her, and they were
both playing in the back yard while their mother was inside male bashing.

“Yes Mom?” Sydney, the younger girl asked. She looked to be about ten years
old and was dressed, like her sister, in red shorts and a simple pink top that
showed her bare midriff. Both girls had fine features and long blonde hair.

“Would you girls please pull down your panties and show these nice ladies what
you look like?”

“Here, Mom?” The older girl looked around nervously.

“Yes dear. There aren’t any boys or men around, it’s just us women so it’s
okay.” The girls hesitated a few second then simultaneously thumbed down their
shorts, looked at each other for reassurance then pulled down their thin
panties and stood facing the ladies in the room. They both had the slender
hips and thighs of young girls, but each also sported a tiny penis, no more
than two inches long. Neither had any trace of a scrotum. “Thank you, girls,”
Tina said, “You can go back out and play now.”

“How old were they when you, you know, did it?” Mora asked, once the girls had
left the room. She had been nervously squirming in her chair since seeing the
castrated boys, and a small damp stain could now be seen in the crotch of her
tightly stretched jeans.

“Oh, lets see. Sydney had just turned two, so Leslie would have been three.”

“How’d you do it, anyway? Mora pried, refilling her wine glass from the box in
the refrigerator. Her lips had turned bright red, and her face was flushed
with excitement.

“Oh, I just gave them each a shot to put them asleep and cleaned off the
kitchen table. I had just gotten out of nursing school and had a lot of stuff
around the house and was pretty handy with scissors. I just slit their bags
open, tied off their little grapes, and snipped them off. Then I removed their
scrotums and stitched them up nice and neat. They were up and about in no
time. There’s really not much to it if you keep everything nice and clean. I
could probably teach anyone how in an hour or so.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that sometime or other, maybe in a couple of
years when they dress down for PE for example, that someone might notice that
they’re somehow a little different from the other girls?” Marlene asked,
somewhat sarcastically.

“Oh that won’t be a problem,” Tina said. “Their father is quite well off now,
and he has agreed to pay for the necessary surgery to complete their
transformation.”

“You mean he knows about it?” Marlene was incredulous.

“Oh sure,” Tina said, “I even gave him the option. He could have them and they
could remain boys, or he could let me keep them and I could do as I pleased.
Of course, I also threatened him with castration if he didn’t let me do it to
the boys. That scared him so badly that he never even asked to see his kids.”

Marlene had heard enough; she left the room, got in her car, and drove
directly home. She was a lawyer and technically an officer of the court, but
she honestly didn’t know if a law had been broken. Even if a criminal act had
been committed, the children believed that they were girls and were apparently
happy. She was absolutely sure, however, that Tina and Mora were both
extremely sick bitches and she vowed to have nothing more to do with them or
their group.

“Hey guys, come in here a minute,” she called out the back door to the three
shirtless teenagers who’d been lounging around the pool.

“What’s up, Mom?” Brett asked, striding into the kitchen with his two brothers
in trail.

“Just stand there,” Marlene said. “I just want to look at you for a minute.”
Brett, the oldest, was nearly sixteen and as far a Marlene could tell he spent
all of his time thinking about what kind of car she might buy him. A few curls
of hair protruded above the waistband of his shorts but stopped shy of his
navel. More dark hair covered his muscular calves, and although he didn’t need
to shave regularly, a fine dark shadow graced his upper lip and chin. Michael,
now fourteen and a freshman in high school, was a few inches taller and had
lighter hair than his older brother. He was a good looking kid, and most of
the evening phone calls from girls were for him. He had no trace of facial
hair but fine blonde curls adorned his thighs. Kevin, the smallest, had just
turned thirteen and was the baby of the family, and he sometimes copped an
attitude that supported that nickname. He would be an eighth grader next fall,
and still had the smooth, flawless skin and hairless legs of a child. It was
only the contra-alto crack of his voice-and the stains on his sheets-that
announced his ascent into puberty.

“Okay guys, drop your shorts. I want to do a short-arm inspection.” Marlene’s
late husband had told her about military life, and up until his death he’d
occasionally inspected his sons’ genitals. She hadn’t seen them nude since
they had been young children.

“Mom!” Michael indignantly complained.

“I gave birth to you and I wiped your little butts when you were babies. I
certainly won’t be shocked at seeing you naked now.” Marlene stated. The boys
all turned read with embarrassment, but all knew better than to disobey their
mother, and after looking at each other for a few seconds they all slowly
lowered their baggy swim trunks.

Marlene stepped back and slowly scanned her three sons: Brett, almost a man,
Michael, the well-endowed teenage heartthrob, and Kevin, her baby, now an
adolescent capable of reproduction. She envied their teenage masculinity and
could practically smell the testosterone that they exuded, and she couldn’t
imagine why Tina would castrate her own sons. “Okay,” she finally said, and
once they had pulled their shorts back up she wrapped her arms around them and
gave them all a hug. “I love you all,” she said, “Just they way you are.”

“What the heck was all that about?” Kevin asked his brothers.

“Beats me,” Brett answered. “Mom must be wigging out about something or
other.”

  

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