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AnonyMPC here, still alive, with another Phil Phantom Tribute. For those who aren't familiar with these, my Phil Phantom Tributes are my attempt to honor, capture the style of and deal with themes by a prolific erotic author of days gone by. It's low characterization, high smut, and fast-paced, not much like my previous work but, hopefully, good for a good quick fap. This one was started a year or two ago, but, I lost steam halfway through, and then, suddenly, I got inspired and finished it in a matter of days. I've got scores of half-completed stories in a similar situation, and who knows when I might get a spark and complete them.

### Muckrakers, Slutmakers, and Fucktakers - A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC (mf, mg, Mg, beast, ws, Fg, Fb, bond, preg, inc)

An irresponsible online news story turned our town upside down, inside out, head over heels, and ass over teakettle. That last expression never made much sense to me, but if we changed it to 'ass over windowsil' it would become startlingly accurate to something that happened in the first weeks of aftermath of that Muckraker's story.

That was his name, The Bayport Muckraker, the only name we ever knew, although I've heard a few people jokingly refer to him as Saint Muckraker. He was an online blogger, unaccountable and anonymous, who thought he was speaking truth to power and exposing the seedy underbelly of Bayport, posting about such yawn-worthy scandals like a city-councilman expensing home renovations to the city, or the mayor awarding an important contract to his brother-in-law's business. As you might expect, his blog probably didn't get more than a dozen hits on any one story, until he came out with an impossible-seeming story that caught the public imagination and went viral. "Bayport Pedophile Ring Conditions Middle School Girls Into Sex Toys" the headline went, which just showed he wasn't a real journalist. It was lurid, sure, attention-grabbing, absolutely, but a real journalist would be punchier. "Brainwashed Baby Bimbos of Bayport," maybe, or "Junior High Neighborhood Sluts," or maybe "One Weird Trick That Makes Pedos Dreams Come True." But I guess when you're telling a story that insane and outrageous, you can get away with a long, awkward headline.

The news of the story blew through the whole town in hours... it's a small town, gossip moved fast, and even if the Internet hadn't helped I'm sure by the end of that day everyone would have heard the details: There was, supposedly, an organized effort by a pedophile ring in the Bayport area, one that had been going on for years, with a tried and tested method to condition young girls into sex toys, perfect obedient little fuckdolls. The article referred to this ring as the Slutmakers, and the girls they targeted as Fucktakers, because afterwards, that's all they were destined for, taking a good hard fucking or a load of gooey fuck in one of their holes.

That was the story, anyway... that these girls, when properly approached, would do anything sexual, with any sex or type... men, women, children, seniors, strangers, friends, or family, even animals, they couldn't refuse, so long as they were asked in the right way. More than that, these girls, these openly accessible sluts wouldn't say a word, they would never rat on a lover, molester or rapist, depending on what you might consider the act, they would rather die than give up a name or reveal an impropriety to somebody trying to get it out of them, they were obsessed with maintaining the image of a perfect, virginal girl except when they were getting all those decidedly non-virgin holes stuffed with cock. Most girls can't keep a secret under pressure, but, the story went, these girls had been trained by the Slutmakers with special mind-control techniques. If an twelve-year-old girl in the group wound up pregnant, she would swear to her dying breath that it was an immaculate conception. Present a eleven-year-old girl with leaked video of her getting gangbanged, and she would insist it was a lookalike, demand a lie detector test to prove it, and pass with flying colors. That was, the story went, how nobody knew this society of sex dolls existed.

How could this be accomplished? The Muckraker claimed not to know, and that he couldn't even verify that it was true for all of them, his source said that there were many girls in different stages of conditioning, and the Muckraker could only personally verify one twelve-year-old who had gone all the way, a girl he gave the pseudonym "Baby," because he didn't want to reveal her name and potentially ruin her life... besides which, the story went, "Baby" would only deny the story anyway.

But "Baby" wasn't the only one, the Muckraker claimed. There were dozens of middle school girls in Bayport who had been sucked into this slutty brainwashing cult, to one degree or another, and many more high school girls who had been through early trial-runs of conditioning and could be trusted to have sex with a stranger and be discreet.

That was the most scandalous and, to many such as myself, the most unbelievable part of the whole story, the one that cast doubt on all the rest. The sheer numbers involved made the story ridiculous. This was Bayport, if dozens of middle school girls were part of this sex ring, that was a hefty chunk of the town's middle school population. I could believe one girl seriously brainwashed, maybe a handful who are just molested in the usual ways girls get molested, by a relative or neighbor or stranger passing through town with nothing to lose, but to suggest more than one in four girls at my daughter's middle school was secretly an open-access fucktoy?

Unbelievable. At least, I didn't believe it when I heard it, and still not sure I believe most of it. But no matter what stupid story you find on the Internet, somebody will believe it, sometimes a lot of people, and the more they want it to be true, the more they'll believe it. And I guess a lot of people wanted to believe this rumor, even after the swift official denial that there was any such thing going on, a report that a police investigation was under way but there was no evidence to support the allegations. To the kind of people who would believe this kind of thing, though, an official denial wasn't evidence against it, they twisted it into being proof that it was going on. And you couldn't reason with these people, because, they would always argue, if the girls were conditioned to completely deny anything was going on, how would the police be able to find anything?

The story seemed like it was obviously bullshit, but bullshit can take on a life of its own. To many of those who bought into this variety of bullshit, "1 in 4" girls at Bayport Middle School being brainwashed sluts, who would never snitch in on a pervert and never say no to one either, wasn't a horrifying nightmare, it was good odds. Even if they weren't completely conditioned, they're still an easy target for pedophiles with Internet access and the ability to get to Bayport, at least if you believed in the lie.

And sometimes even lies can take on a little bit of truth. Can you imagine the perverts, emboldened by good odds, taking a chance they otherwise wouldn't have taken, approaching the girls in the right way, and then, whether they were actually part of this fantastical slut training or not, convincing them into sexual activity? Did I mention that the 'right way' to approach these girls, to get them to do anything, was to get them alone and calmly pay attention to their pussy? To reach into a pair of pants or under a skirt like it was your right, like you knew it wouldn't be rejected, and just start stroking pink? I wasn't brainwashed, and if you did that to me, you had a good chance of getting me to do anything, and I'm a church-going mother who now tries really hard to have sex only in a committed relationship, or when temptation pushed past beyond good sense. Temptation and good sense intersected around my pussy, and a thick finger or aggressive cock was a good way to push one past the other. And I'm not even a hormonal adolescent, or a little girl drunk on the power of men falling all over me, not anymore, and not for a long time, built up a huge tolerance to being drunk on lots of things... get me at that middle school age, bursting with sexual feelings I didn't yet understand, and I'd be liable to put out for a stranger I met that hour and call it true love at first sight. Not just liable, that's pretty much what happened, except it was multiple strangers which is liable to make a girl feel less loved and more fucked.

But those interested in testing the Muckraker's story weren't all strangers, and it wasn't just out-of-town perverts, we had plenty of home grown ones, and daddies or brothers wondering if the sweet, virginal little middle schooler in their family would spread their legs if they only grew the balls to stroke their pussy, well, plenty grew the balls, and some, I'm sure, got rewarded with complete virgins who were ready to toss that label away when they got too slick between the legs by a bold family member that they were too afraid to say 'No' too. Not all the perverts were men, either, there were dykes in denial and those just with a little curiosity, all willing to experiment and see if the stories of rampant bisexuality were true.

And, even if every adult behaved like a saint, which nobody could expect, that still left the other kids, those who weren't part of the group but didn't want to be left out of all the sex they now were sure was going on, overheard from their parents or looked up on their own visits to the Muckraker's site. Every boy in school must have tried every girl, and some girls got the message that they could gain sudden and dramatic popularity by hinting about that they might be one of these no-tell sluts and, when approached, live up to the role.

All these hijinks were whispered about, not on the Internet where it might be discovered and held against you, but in the much older network of gossip, friends telling friends what they heard or saw or just imagined others were up to, an impressively fertile and detailed garden of rumors especially considering the key part of the Muckraker's original story was that the girls weren't telling. Yet more evidence of bullshit, because a lot of telling was going on, the whisper network, although some of that was bragging from the perpetrators to trusted friends who couldn't be so trusted.

My main gossip source came from Chloe, one of my oldest friends. There's a certain bond you get with somebody when you go through formative experiences with them right at your side, like, your first taste of cum, your first time drinking so much cum that you can't take anymore, and your first time getting cum inside your pussy or ass, and we went through all of them in one night at the tender age of twelve. Middle schoolers really should stay away from the path into the park near the halfway house, especially after dark, but we had a late night craving for burgers and wanted to push the envelope, and the envelope pushed back, and temptation got pushed past good sense while riding on a thick black finger.

Chloe's first tales came from her son, not directly, but overheard conquests, relayed to me, and of course it turned me on, brought back memories of my own youth, and let me picture her very well-hung teen son (an unofficial aunt learns these things from the source, just before he hit his teen years) in scenes that got me steamy. According to her, he started out sharing his best friend's sister with that best friend, who found her willing to take the label of Fucktaker only to ruin it by bragging about it. He got in trouble at school after getting caught having a threesome with two freshman girls in the girl's bathroom, and that he now has a nine-year-old brunette girl following him around everywhere outside of school, "like a puppy dog." This last particularly amused Chloe, and she half-joked about getting her a collar and leash. Half-joked because we actually did go down and buy a pink, studded collar and butt-plug in the shape of a tail, and left it outside of his door. It took a few hours before they came down for snacks, but she was wearing it. The collar, I mean, she was dressed and not wearing the tail, but she did have the "I've just spend more than an hour with something big stuck up my butt" walk.

Later Chloe told about other things going on she'd seen or heard about from reliable sources. The old playground we used run around on after school is now frequented by an ever-changing parade of tourists and the occasional teen or preteen girl who wants to prove her story of being one of the Fucktakers, or who wants a good gang fuck, or who just want a little light molestation and wind up being held down and getting a good gang fuck in the bargain. There were tales from a friend Chloe worked with down at City Hall, who, during her time on the neighborhood watch noticed a lawyer she knows who would pick up his niece from school, and then go straight to the no-tell motel on the edge of town, because a nosy wife or parents are at their respective homes. She told me of reliable second-hand reports that the preacher's daughter no longer wore underwear and had a habit of flashing her pussy to men on the bus. And of course, there were the stories of a "wiki" site on the "darknet" where there are lists of all the schoolgirls in town and what sexual things they've done when asked, including links to pictures, so that anybody who wants to be sure of success can improve their odds, and Chloe told me the mayor had it open on his office computer just before he announced his "young internship" program.

But Chloe was hardly the only source of gossip, just my first and best source. At first I thought maybe she was pulling my leg, telling me lurid stories that weren't true, just to get me excited, like she used to constantly do when we were in school. That thought changed once I began hearing tales like these from all over.

My book club spent one evening swapping tales of two girls, Cora and Jackie, who are in scouts with my daughter and are almost famous for being ultra-competitive, who have been gradually pushing each other farther and farther in the attempt to sell the most cookies, and more than one of them have caught a husband or boyfriend taking advantage of their "special offers". Laura caught her boyfriend taking Jackie up on her relatively mild "Buy Two Trios and I'll Twerk", and not long after, Kathy's husband was checking out Cora's down-south-smile which was apparently a perk of buying five boxes of Savannah Smiles, and only days after that both girls were offering oral services for any purchase of ten boxes or more, a deal few men could resist and none of us could blame them for accepting. That was when we noticed Marcie, who had the box of Thin Mints that started the conversation, and who had earlier said she had "boxes and boxes" at home, blushing like mad and got her to admit that Cora, at least, had no shame about extending the offer to a lonely single woman, and, by her report, was extremely good at it.

And at the PTA, I heard some of the busybodies tut-tutting about the expected imminent downfall of Amy Gunderson, the brightest girl in my daughter's middle school, moving from tutoring younger classmates to high school teens and eventually grown men. I thought that was perhaps just rumor, so I made a point to visit her mother for tea and was treated to the little blonde whore leading a football player more than four times her size up to her bedroom by the hand, stopping only long enough to explain to her mother that he had never learned to read and she was helping him. While we sipped tea, Janet Gunderson deflected my insinuations that anything was going on with a blank assurance that bordered on delusion. If that little girl was teaching him to read, they sure seemed to be spending an awful lot of time on the letter "O."

Then there were the wilder stories I couldn't confirm... the ice cream man keeping a girl inside his truck to service his every need in exchange for free treats at the end of the day, or that half of Vladimir's ballet school is pregnant with his seed, or Mr. Billingsly the vet has been taking his daughter in to work with him and there are dog scratches visible on her shoulders when she wears tank tops, which is always. Or that cops have been picking up schoolgirls for questioning, then returning them to their doors hours later, smelling of sex as though they're daring the parents to comment on it, and that girls are bragging about how much of a nightstick they've taken in their ass. I've heard some of the bragging, but they were teenagers, so who knows how much of that was real and how much was fitting in to be cool.
That proliferation of gossip disproved the original story as much as anything... these weren't girls who couldn't say no, these were girls who were working it, and complete secrecy or a virginal reputation didn't seem to be anybody's priority. But did it really matter if the Muckraker's tale was bullshit? Who needed the original story to be true when a real flower of perversion was blooming right under our noses? It hasn't even all been gossip, I've seen some of it first hand, just in the first few weeks after the story broke.

I haven't gotten a visit from the cops, but I have seen when they showed up next door to pull an overweight man from the from the window of our neighbor's ten-year-old girl Betty, apparently one of a long series of tourists who has visited her room, only he had the misfortune of getting his chubby white ass stuck. The police pulled him out and took him away.

And there was the time I was driving my daughter home from school and saw, in another car, a man ramming a young teen's head down on his cock. I didn't recognize the guy, so he must not have been local (believe me, I know every black guy in town) and I couldn't see the girl's face, but she was wearing the local high school uniform, and, from what I could see of her skin as she went down on him far enough to gag, she was white, so it's probably not like he was a dirty relative or something. I wouldn't be surprised if he just followed the rumor to Bayport, tried his luck, picked her up and got very lucky. I wanted to follow him and watch how lucky, but with my daughter in the car I didn't think I could justify it.

I also vividly remember catching the town librarian reading Fifty Shades of Grey, which isn't that odd, even though I heard her muttering, "No, no, that's not how you do it," as she flipped through pages. What was shocking was what I found when I came back with the DVDs I wanted to check out. She had gone to the bathroom or to reshelve some books, and, while I was waiting, I heard a jingling under her desk. When I looked, I found a girl, no older than fourteen, naked and chained to the floor in a kneeling position, with a wet, slimy face and steamed up glasses. I asked if she was okay, and she said "Yeah... she's really strict about late fees." I don't know if that was the desperate lie of a Fucktaker or not, but I made damn sure to return those DVDs on time!

Between the visitors and the locals exploring their perversions, it was getting more and more tempting to just say "Fuck it," and join in. I have to admit, I've been seriously craving Girl Scout Cookies lately, and if Cora or Jackie came along and offered to eat me out if I'd buy ten boxes, I might just buy twenty if she'll tongue my asshole too. Hungry and horny is not a good combination with me, I lose what little good judgment I have. But what the hell, I've been good this year, my daughter's already sold all hers so if I eat the whole batch I won't be in trouble.

A lot of people in Bayport seem to be willing to just go with it, that the tourism boom is the best thing to happen to the town in a while... we've been really struggling in this economy, and even if they are perverts (and reporters, on the scent of a story), they eat at the local restaurants, shop at our local stores, and are generally pumping a lot into our local economy so it's tempting to look the other way while they pump a lot into the local girls as well. The motel's been booked solid, mostly with locals, but there's even a trend, a website that lists which Bayport homes will let tourists rent a room. Plenty of people have the space, an extra room, an attic, a garage, and with the demand so high, these guys aren't picky... hell, the money's supposed to be pretty good even if the renter has to share a room with one of the kids. I haven't seen the site myself... I wonder if it's the same darknet site that lists what girls have done. I've searched for both sites, a couple months ago, one because I wanted to see if my daughter was on there, and the other because I was thinking of taking on a boarder myself. I need the economic stimulus as much as anybody! But I haven't gotten lucky yet... I've always been so bad with computers. Mostly I'd been hoping a tourist would ask me.

There's a bit of a conspiracy theory that this whole story was just a scam to bring in tourists, from day one, maybe a baloney sandwich served up by the Main Street Diner, which has been booming like never before. I don't go that far... I mean, out of all the kinds of fake stories you could make up to draw tourists, what kind of kook would make a story that's geared to lure in the perverts who prey on our kids? It's one thing to make money off it if it's happening anyway, that's just making lemons into lemonade, I'm all for that (I'm known as the queen of making the best out of a bad situation)... but to seek it out, well, that's just wrong. And besides, it'd be so much more effective to make up a story about the Virgin Mary appearing in a piece of burnt toast or something. No, no one I respect believes in the economic conspiracy theory, and obviously the story isn't true. A more likely answer is simply that the Muckraker wanted attention, web-clicks, advertising money, possibly wasn't even a real local at all, just chose a town at random, tried to make a genuine start in journalism there, and when that failed decided to just write something ultra-salacious, and damn the consequences. Most of the people I've talked to lean towards this as the most likely scenario.

Still, there were always die-hards who insisted that the Muckraker was real, just a little deceived, that he got the facts right, but the scale wrong, and in particular that there might only be one Slutmaker, and maybe only one girl that had the complete conditioning package, the no-tell whore who was a virgin to all appearances, but would fuck a dog while men watched and filmed and waited for their turn, who took cum in the pussy without a complaint and was just waiting for a chance to claim immaculate conception, the ultimate middle school slut dream, the twelve-year-old Fucktaker the reporter called "Baby."

Who "Baby" might be was the source of some of the juiciest rumors. Kit Billingsly was a popular choice, as was Nicole Fellheimer, who hadn't been caught doing anything but everybody suspected was... she was dressing like a middle school slut before the news broke, and you don't wear skirts that short unless you're advertising something, but her parents kept an eagle eye on her since the rumor broke so nobody had been able to get her alone and try it out... except, perhaps, daddy, but if so, neither of them were talking. There were plenty of other girls who got briefly fingered as "Baby" (and often briefly fingered during the accusation) but there was never any solid proof, or there was too much proof because the girl had proudly mouthed off about what she'd done.

Some of those early rumors even centered on my family, about my little girl Hailey.

Now, as her mother, right from the start, I disbelieved those rumors. I just knew, deep down in my heart, that it couldn't be Hailey. For one thing, she wouldn't be twelve for another four months when the Muckraker's story hit. For another, I was certain the girl just could not keep a secret like that, not from me. She hasn't kept such secrets before. No, Hailey's not a pure innocent virgin, and I wouldn't have that been surprised if she was also playing the game of pretending to be one of the Fucktakers for popularity among the boys. All I would have been surprised by was that I hadn't heard about it, from her own mouth. She certainly had a history even at her young age, although the attention was from men, not boys.

See, that's always been Hailey's problem. The girl is practically molester-bait. Or molester-nip, maybe, since with bait the goal is to trap them. In a few short years I've known several men who've taken what might be called 'indecent liberties' with her. I don't know what it is, whether it's her long blonde hair, her pouty lips, her creamy skin, or what. Plenty of people would assume it was the advanced bosom for her age. The girl's certainly got a chest to be proud of, far more than I had at her age, where I only dreamed of looking like her. She looks like an adult woman's bust got put on a child's body, just shrunk to scale. At my birthday dinner one year, just three weeks before Hailey's own eleventh birthday, my boyfriend at the time suggested that he'd get my daughter a bra for her birthday, because she needed one now that she had "more than a handful" and then went on to prove it by pulling her onto his lap and cupping and squeezing them, under the shirt. He was right, she did have more than a handful, and he didn't have small hands by any means. She got all embarrassed, though, not like a slut, and clearly she had no problems telling me that he later came into her room at night, did it again, and took pictures of the bare chest on his phone. I just pointed out that he needed to be sure of her size if he was going to buy her a bra (although he went back to his wife before her birthday party and never got around to giving her a gift), and I had to be the one to remind her not to mention it to anybody because some people might take it the wrong way or even consider it child porn. After he left me she pointed out he still had it, but I told her not to worry. I mean, really, what harm was a picture he could never show anybody? She should be proud if he did, not many girls have a chest that would inspire a grown man to risk jail to keep a momento of. Besides, he might always get tired of that old bitch and come back to me for good, and there was no sense jinxing it.

Really, she must have brought all that sexual attention on herself somehow. I mean, he wasn't the first guy who got some picture off her, or a grope, or the occasional nighttime visit. And I knew her chest couldn't be the source of all the attention she got from men, because she was molestor-nip even before she they started sprouting like mad when she was in the middle of her tenth year.

So many of my boyfriends had some kind of interest in her it became almost a running joke... Chloe used to say that when I found a new guy he was getting a two-for-one deal. So I guess it's partly my fault, too... I mean, obviously I wasn't very diligent about screening out the guys who had pedo impulses. I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of them dated me just because they knew I was the mother to a beautiful preteen girl. And, if I'm to be completely honest, I may have even encouraged it, a little. What can I say, I get lonely, and if having my daughter around attracts men who are interested in more than a one-night stand, I'm not above using it, showing her picture on a first date, or taking her swimming, both of us wearing matching bikinis that is always eye-catching and good for luring a man to come talk to me. And I'm not like Chloe, with a good, stable, civil service job... often, these guys wind up supporting me... so I can't exactly afford to defend her like a good mother should.

So when my daughter would come to me, and she always did, with some fresh tale about how whatever-boyfriend-at-the-time peeked at her in the shower, or had an erection when he made her sit on his lap, or felt her up while pretending to tickle her, or snuck into her room and jacked off until he came all over her face (that was Barry, he did that and ONLY that, which is weird because he always wanted ME to swallow), or offered to "teach her how to masturbate," or had stolen her panties or returned panties with cum in the crotch, or played the "hotdog game" with his cock rubbing between her butt cheeks until he dribbled goo all over her back... whenever any of that questionable stuff happened, I always begged her not to say anything. Just let it be, I'd tell her, men have their weird needs from time to time, and that's normal, but that we really needed that relationship to work out. Boyfriends are kind of like family, at the very least potential family, so you don't want to get them in trouble over just a little horseplay. I made sure to tell her that if she was really bothered, or they were hurting her, that was different, and that she could always tell them 'no' if she didn't like what they were doing and I was sure they would respect that. If they pushed on beyond that, I'd step in and I would make sure they never troubled her again. But she never did ask me to step in, and eventually the guys got it out of their system, and most of them moved on, our relationship not working out for whatever reason.

I know, that makes me sound like an awful mother, letting my boyfriends do what they want with her, but, again, it's not like she was this delicate, innocent child who'd never even heard of sex. Hailey'd been around the block, even before she her age was in double digits, already molester-nip, with a few regular molesters that she never discouraged. Some of her teachers, for instance, she'd tell me that they came on to her. I guess it's no surprise a profession like teaching would also attract pedophiles, and I had to be the one to point out that, and how she should be glad he picked her out of all the girls to be focused on. It probably was those pouty lips back then, before she had breasts. I told her that it was her choice, she could either tell and get the cool teacher who liked her removed and maybe get some horrible witch to replace him, or she could keep quiet, play the game, let them obsess over her, swallow a little cum, and maybe get her slacking grades up in the process. Her grades did go up, and I rarely had to pack a lunch for her. It's not like the taste of cum bothered her, she's been drinking it for her uncle Marty since she was eight.

That one did freak me out some, when that started, and she just about told the world what was happening, and that was when he was just fondling her. See, my little brother is special needs. He's about average, maybe just below average, intelligence, but not so much that you'd notice, and he's got hyperactivity, but his real problem is a latex allergy and a pathological fear of masturbating. If he gets horny too long, sometimes he acts out. He was always grabbing my tits when he was young, and when my daughter was around, well, it certainly didn't help that she liked running around in nothing but panties, because he'd stick his hands in for warmth. Hailey wasn't bothered by what he was doing, hell, she liked it, but she did have a big mouth and was talking about how Uncle Marty was always playing the tickle game with her while my parents and a few friends were over for a dinner party. I knew what that meant, because I know Marty, but luckily nobody else did, or if they did they kept quiet, and I made an excuse to send Hailey to her room before she elaborated, and then later asked her myself, just to be sure, and sure enough, she told me every dirty detail. I had to tell her the golden rule, that there was secret stuff and public stuff, and you don't tell secret stuff when it's about family, even with other family, because it can destroy the family forever. Of course, in defining what 'secret stuff' was, I had to have much more of a sex talk than I was expecting with an eight-year-old girl, and about Marty's problem, at a level a girl her age could understand.

I did have to threaten to punish her if she told, but I wasn't kidding, that revelation really would have torn apart her family, and not just Uncle Marty. If Marty got questioned and blabbed about how I used to help him with his problem, the police could very well come and put ME in jail, just because I was eighteen and he was twelve when it started, even though he's the guy and the one who was horny all the time and couldn't bear to take care of it himself. You think I wanted to serve as his personal cumdump whenever he couldn't get a girlfriend? No, but try telling that to the feds these days, completely unaware of male, abled, privilege and insisting that it's somehow "equal" to arrest a girl for helping her horny special-needs brother, without understanding that it's unfair because it's not a level playing field... men are much hornier.

And like me, Hailey only wanted to help Marty, which I guess is why it shouldn't be a surprise when I caught them on the couch when I came home from work, her tiny mouth down to her uncle's balls... yes, hard as it was to believe, she was actually deep-throating him, something she didn't think was possible when I explained it to her. I thought my brother was watching her after school as a favor to me, but I guess he was getting a little extra perk out of the deal. I was pissed at the betrayal, and even more pissed that I had to have yet another talk with them both about discretion. Sure, she didn't say anything, but my parents do barge in without knocking and it could just as easily have been one of them to catch them, and then where would we all be? They wouldn't listen, though... I regularly had to order them into another room if it looked like anything was happening. Sometimes I would watch, make sure it didn't go too far because unlike them, I could be trusted to keep a secret and not think with my genitals. I was pretty fair about things, too... I only approved vaginal sex on her eleventh birthday (so instead of just pulling the lips apart and squirting inside, she could actually have the safe fun of a real full-force bareback fucking before it became a pregnancy risk... I'm not a monster!). Anal she could start at nine, because the ass is more stretchable.

Still, all of that was relatively tame stuff, the kind of light, safe, molesting any pretty little girl might encounter alone with an older guy with too high a sex drive. The stories told by the Muckraker were on a whole other level, and that level of perversion just didn't seem to fit with my little girl. I mean, some of the things he reported witnessing "Baby" do beggared belief. I had good reasons for not believing many of them. Sucking off a pony? Where would they even go for that? Dogs, maybe, but Hailey's always been anxious around them. Bukkake parties in a backroom at a comic convention? Whenever Marty and his roommate took her to one of those, she was always so obsessive about her costume that I couldn't imagine her risking dirtying it up with anything sexual. Gangbang on the beach? She always complained about getting sand in her ass when we went to the beach, so it was hard to believe she'd have sex there. Being in the middle of a bisexual threesome? That was hard to imagine, and I'd tried... I'd also tried walking around in a loose robe and no underwear just to see if Hailey showed any interest in girls, and she didn't even bat an eye. Letting guys pee in her mouth? She complained whenever there was a little dribble of pee on the toilet seat!

Not to mention of course the biggest issue, the obsessive denial when questioned about it or presented with evidence, the reputed ability to pass a lie detector. I had a hard time believing that could be done, at least not without conditioning that bordered on brainwashing. And the more significant problem there is... who has the time? I don't believe in instant hypnosis, and while you can probably brainwash somebody into anything, given enough time, there just didn't seem to be any guy around for long enough to do that sort of thing. Her life's too full of typical kid stuff... school, visits with the grandparents, sleepovers at friends houses, babysitting, girl scouts, one-on-one bonding trips with whatever guy I'm seeing, and so on. Aside from that, she's with me all the time, or when I'm not there, Chloe. Other than her or my brother, who she spends occasional weekends with, nobody else has the long stretches of uninterrupted time to do the kind of extended reprogramming I imagined would be necessary, and I really don't think either of them would. I trust Chloe, and my little brother... well, he may be a pervert, but he's not that smart or patient. Besides, what would he even need to brainwash her for? Like I said, she already lets him nut off in any of her holes, which is more than most girls her age will do for their uncle. When I was her age, I would only use my hands on mine! I wouldn't even taste it. At that age I was still in my "anything from a boy's body is icky" phase.

Eventually, though, when the subject of 'Baby' came up, more and more people started naming Hailey, and I had to confront her and hear it from her own pouty lips. "Tell me you're not this 'Baby' everyone's talking about..." I said.

"I'm not," she told me, but she didn't deny hearing the rumor.

"Good enough for me," I said, and didn't think about it for another week. I'd gone back into being a total skeptic, one of those who believed the Muckraker made up the story out of whole cloth that turned our town upside down.

Then the packet of pictures arrived in the mail. My little daughter, her face sticky and looking like it had plastered, with a horse's dong pointed at her open mouth. Another of her kneeling on the floor of a kennel, making out with Kit Billingsly with two big German Shepherds humping both of them while some men watched in the background. Another of her legs spread open getting fucked by a man with a pot-belly and a tattoo on that belly that looks an awful lot like my Dad's, taken on a bed that looks an awful lot like my own. Another of her suspended in some kind of bondage apparatus, like a rack, arms and legs open in an X and some kind of clamps on her nipples. And there was one of her squatting over a dildo that must have been modeled on a famous porn star, while she buried her face in the curly-haired muff of an adult woman. The last two were back to back and made me wonder if Hailey had late fees at the library. There were other pictures, too, along with something else, something that was enough to make knock the skeptic out of me, and turn me into a believer, maybe not in the whole story, but at least the basics. That was also a note, saying, "I couldn't post these on my article, but I thought you might be interested - The Bayport Muckraker."

I went to my daughter, pictures in hand, and showed them to her. She looked up at me, deadpan, and said, "It's not me, these are fakes."

Well, that sold it. Maybe she was Baby. The story was still an exaggeration, because she wasn't all that convincing. She had a half-smile on her face when she offered to take a lie detector and prove it, like she knew that was one of the stories. But she did seem like she could be an experienced Fucktaker. There was only one thing I could think of that would let me know for sure. I told her to get over my knee, like she was due a spanking, like I used to do sometimes, but not often, because she's generally a good kid. Mostly I had to do it when she talked back to me or a boyfriend. Still, she got into position and pulled her pants down, and I gave her one smack just for form's sake, but then I rubbed her butt and moved my fingers down to caress her slit, and then rub up around her clit, the button that supposedly activated Baby's programming. I gave her a good five minutes until she was panting, and then I asked her, "You'll do anything I want?" and she nodded like a good little no-tell Fucktaker. "Even eat out Mommy?" Another nod, with a sound like a "Uh-huh."

Well, I had to know if she was bluffing, didn't I? And it was just before dinner, so I was both hungry and horny.

The little slut didn't even wait for me to undress, as soon as I told her to, she undid my pants and went to town, following every direction immediately until I came in her face, and even after when she latched onto my pee-hole and swallowed every drop, then looked up from between my thighs like she was waiting for further orders.

I may not be the best mother, but I am the queen of making the best of a bad situation, and if she was already programmed, it only made sense that I take up as much of her time as possible, so nobody ELSE could take advantage of her in a way that might hurt her, right? That thought carried me through about three orgasms.

We had a frank talk about things afterwards over dinner, and she answered a lot of my questions about what she's done, but was pretty cagey about who she'd done it with. And she never did answer my two biggest questions... who was the Muckraker, and who was the Slutmaker. When I asked about the Muckraker, all I could get from her is that it's not right to tell on family, but then, when I pounced on that, she reminded me that family included every boyfriend I'd had and plenty of friends, including Chloe who I referred to as "Aunt Chloe." And as for the Slutmaker? When I asked her who brainwashed her into going along with whatever sexual thing was suggested and never telling on them... she didn't even give me an answer, she just looked at me, like I was stupid for even asking.

I guess I was. I mean, if this mastermind could condition her into a slut who can't say no, the first thing he would protect is his own identity. I still haven't identified any likely suspects, but then, I haven't pushed her since that first day. I've had other things on my mind, and her mouth's usually too busy to tell me anyway.

No, I didn't put a stop to it. I didn't even take up most of her time. How could I? Once a girl's broken like that, I'm pretty sure there's no coming back. I can't watch her twenty-four-seven, I'd go mad, and she does need to go to school, spend time with her friends, and get the orgasms she's become accustomed to. And the damage is pretty much already done... we recently discovered that she's pregnant. Pregnant at twelve, just like my friend Chloe. I also remember how guys treated her in school after, like she was just a useless slut, but then, that's not really a step down for my daughter, is it?

No idea who the father is. If anyone asks, Hailey's going to claim it's an immaculate conception. Which will pretty much confirm for everyone in town that she's a Fucktaker, but it's not like there are a shortage of those... whether or not the Slutmaker is still here operating, our society's churning them out. I'm pretty sure most of the townspeople, and plenty of tourists (some of whom have become permanent residents) have already settled it in their minds that Hailey really is Baby anyway, or at least the ones who would use her have.

I kind of wish the Muckraker would write a follow-up exposé, though, and reveal the Slutmaker, because I still wish I knew who made my daughter this way.

But oh well. I guess life's full of little mysteries, and you don't always get the answers revealed to you.

The End

“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom

Fanart: An anonymous fan commissioned the artist Temon to draw a picture of the mom in this story learning to accept her daughter as a Fucktaker here (Pixiv account may be required, and link is to drawn art depicting minors in sexual situations which may be illegal in your jurisdiction, click at your own risk).

This story is free to share and distribute so long as no money is charged.

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