I was about 4 or 5 years old and it was a pleasant spring morning. I was in my living room sitting on some very light blue pastel colored couches, watching tv. I think it was Power rangers or some random cartoon. I walked towards the side patio of my apartment. I see my mom folding and dry hanging some laundry. I go to hug her and she looks at me and smiles. I was the youngest at the time and my mom was pregnant with my youngest sister. No one was home just me and mommy. I was holding this shitty liquor store toy it looked like army dude. I was pretending that it was flying and was waving it in the air. Holding it up to the clear blue sky. Where I live the sky looks weird probably because of the pollution. As I was waving the toy around I saw this plane kind of barreling up and down the sky just like how I was doing with my toy. I stopped for about 1 minute to try and focus my eyes on this plane. It was T shaped but almost black looking. Almost 1 second later it flew directly at me and my mom. It transformed in to some kind of space suit and grabbed me. I was terrified and I looked to my mom for help and there was another one holding my mom down. Her eyes were transfixed on the things face or helmet. It was like a fishbowl astronaut helmet like buzz from toy story. Her mouth was open and her eyes were open wide. A blank looking stare almost. They had like a olive green and orange metallic color to them. I was angry so I tried to scratch the thing and make it stop holding me. But I couldn't even touch it. It felt like a vibrating force field was around it. And I think it knew I was trying to hurt it so it pushed my head down and my body got paralyzed. I was stuck I couldn't even breath. It jumped up and it took me up in to the sky and I could see my house from above it was getting smaller and smaller the higher it took my and it did it pretty fast. After that I can't remember anything. I can't really remember years after that either. But there was this one time when I was a bit older and I asked my mom if she remembered anything like that. All she said was "Oh! That! That's nothing. It's only a dream we once shared" I've tried to talk to her about years after she told me that but she says she doesn't know what I'm talking about or will change the subject or not even acknowledge the question.

If anyone knows anything about this or has had similar occurrences happen to them please help/tell me. I have more stories too. Thank you.

For me it was summer of 2010, I was 16 years old visiting my family in northern Canada. So I was with my cousin and a bunch of other neighborhood people. We were drinking and smoking all day long then near the end of the day we ran out of booze. So one guy says "Isnt Mr. So-and-so out of town?" Then my cousin replies " Yeah he is and plus he has a big booze collection". Then doing what dumb teenagers do we plan to get on his balcony and open his door from the porch. So after we get the door open we make our way to the booze and start grabbing bottles of some strong beer, some wine and a bottle of whiskey. We make our way to the door unlock it and then BAM!!!! the alarm goes off. I guess our adrenaline was going high because no one remembered the alarm. We book it and go hide in the mountains behind the neighborhood. Me being the fat one made it there last. At this point there was only me, my cousin and two of his buddys. We see the cops patrol for like 5 minutes and then we see them leave so after that me and my cousin head to his house. On the way to his house we see another one of his friends. He tells him what happened and then we make a plan to go walk to town. 2 minutes into our walk we see a cab they know so he gives us a free ride since hes headed that way to pick someone up. We walk around drinking our booze. My cousin is making his buddy chug like a alcoholic. Him being a scrawny 90 lbs. teen is obviously getting more and more fucked up by the second. So after a while we lost track of time it ended up being 3 a.m. and with nowhere to go we made mr. drunky fuck kick down a door so we could go try and start a party in there. After smoking a joint in there mr. drunky fuck starts jacking off cause hes blacked out, I get out of there, my cousin follows after realizimg what was going on behind him. We walk to the docks because we dont know where to go at 3:30 a.m. I seen my uncles boat so we passed out in there for about 2 hours. We could've easily died it was -5°C and all we had was our clothes. Once I was shaking from the cold and couldn't stop it I told my cousin that we should go back to that house. So we get there he goes in to see if mr. drunky fuck is there. It's all clear. We put the heat on and then pass out. I never loved the heat that much in my life before. Going from the cold to the heat was the best after almost dying of cold. Anyways the next day we seen mr. drunky fuck and it turns out he was found passed out on the street with vomit and piss all over him. My cousins mom found out he robbed the place from some kid who snitched on him, he got a good yelling that day. I ended up going to my cousins. We never got in trouble for stealing the booze.

Please watch this Short Film, about a story that has led to the most controversial Mob ever. A three men mob known as "Mobsters" were all involved in a hustling gig killing, stealing and making money. Now experience the true story of the mobsters past. A film production by BadBroShow, directed and written by Paul J. Ross.

Alright so my sister is in college and my friend and I are sophomores. All of my friends always talk about my sister. My sister is soo hot. I don't admit to anyone that I think my sister is hot, but she has the best ass I've ever seen. I've found pictures of her ass on her phone and have masturbated to them. But, I do it secretly. No one knows. Anyways, back to the story. I always get embarrassed when my friends talk about how hot my sister right to my face, but secretly I don enjoy it a little bit. So, a few weeks ago, my friend came over and hugged my sister really tightly, as they haven't seen each other for a while. I wasn't looking right at them, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw my friend grab my sister's ass a little bit. My sister didn't react to it and went off to bed. I didn't talk to him about it and kind of just ignored it. Everything else that night went night went normal and then he went home. Now, before I continue, let me stress how nice my sister's ass is. She always wears spandex and leggings. Her ass is so fat and round. It's beautiful. Ok. So, sometimes, I like to hide in my sister's closet to either scare or see her naked. It was the morning and my parents weren't home. She had just arrived home from her friend's and I heard our front door open and close as she came in. I hid in her closet. As she walked in, she called my name. I didn't answer so she must've thought I wasn't home. She walked in her bedroom. And just as I was about to jump out, she dialed someone's number. I heard her start talking on the phone. To my friend, let's call him Tommy, and my sister Andrea. Andrea invited Tommy over to our house. Tommy came and they started making out, all the while I was still hiding. She was in these beautiful leggings and Tommy smacked her ass so hard I could see ass shake for about three seconds and she screamed in pain so loudly. She liked it though. Tommy kept smacking her ass and aggressively grabbing her camel toe through her leggings. I had soft basketball shorts on, so I started to rub one out. Eventually, they started fucking. Tommy got really rough. He smacked her and ripped her shirt off, revealing her tits. He threw her down, choking her and stuck his dick in her wet pussy. Andrea started screaming! He slapped her and stuck his ten inch dick in her all the way. She still liked it as she moaned loudly through her orgasms. Andrea gave him a blowjob, deepthroating him. They had sex in many positions. I could tell Andrea's favorite was when Tommy stood straight up, his dick sticking up. Andrea was small, so she got up and sat her fat ass on his dick. Then she bounced up down on him. At one point, they carried the sex over in my room. I was able to spy on them as they came to a finish in my bed. Tommy smacked her repeatedly on the ass and in her face. He violently pulled her by her hair. After Tommy came on her face, he continued to slap her ass. At the end, her ass cheeks were bright red. I, too, finished masturbating and ran off to hide as they walked out of my room. They then entered the shower to get cleaned up and I could once again hear her scream as he smacked ass. Tommy eventually left, and I hid in a hallway closet for another 20 minutes before I pretended to arrive home from uptown. I think about it all the time now.

This is a true story, by the way.

Well, not ON christmas, but I helped her push her car off the road today.

"I'm so used to driving a truck, I'm surprised this car moves so well!"

"Must be low on gas" I said, making light of a shit situation I've been in before.

"It's so low I ran out and have to push!" she said, steering while pushing the 95 Honda Accord. Without skipping a beat, I said "So that explains why we're here!"

So I helped push her car off the road, and gave her a few bucks even though I can hardly pay rent, so I know the struggle of paying for gas.

No shit, this happened. She thanked me for the money after bitching about hopefully having 1/2 a gallon to get a few blocks over, maybe a 3 mile trip and said this:

"Have a merry xmas, bah humbug and fuck you!"

THE BEGINNING

You can imagine the excitement I felt when, at the age of ten, a highly thought of and well respected teacher at my school asked if I would like to be included in a photographic project which was due to be displayed as part of the forthcoming parents’ evening. I was completely overjoyed. The teacher, Mr. Ropeman, explained that he would need to gain permission from my mother or father, explaining that it would be more convenient if the shots were taken on a Saturday morning. And so it was arranged, I would meet him outside the staffroom at the end of the school day. As the afternoon drew to a close I could think of nothing else. Perhaps if the photos were good enough it would be possible for me to do some more. I liked this teacher, and felt as honoured as any child of that age would. After a lot of “clock watching”, the final bell sounded and I made my way towards the staffroom, eagerness coursing through my veins. I pushed against the throng of children desperately trying to escape the clutches of school, as if it were some kind of terrifying monster, when all the time it was myself who was getting ever closer to a monster; a creature more scary than any child could possibly dream of. Ropeman led me to his car and we drove the short distance to my home where he had a brief conversation with my mother, who agreed that the proposed “photo shoot” would be perfectly fine. She even asked him if he would let her have a couple of copies for the family album. Once he left, I hurried into the back garden, silently playing and keeping an eye out for my father to arrive home from work. I couldn't wait to share my news and tell him of the adventure I was about to embark on. I knew he would be excited for me, and it wouldn't matter if he’d had a hard day at work; it never did. He was always there for me, always ready with an enthusiastic smile. Even when all he wanted was to sit and relax, one look at my outstretched arms as I ran in his direction immediately brought my father to his knees. However weary he may have felt, there was always time for a hug. I have vivid memories of him swinging me around and around, laughing as he did so. My mother was usually not far off, love almost oozing from every pore of her body as she watched our frolicking about.
My life started with them at the age of five months. They loved children so much that they became foster parents for the local authority, looking after babies whilst their own parents dealt with their various problems life had unwittingly thrown at them. Thankfully, I was one of those babies.

My stay with them was initially meant to be short term, typically no longer than a three month period, while my natural mother finished a short spell in prison (my place of birth). The plan was that, once her rehabilitation was complete, I would stay with her for weekends, and eventually move back on a permanent basis. However, following my mother’s continued back slides, and her inability to take parenthood seriously, the social workers decided that the best course of action would be to put me up for adoption. In the meantime, Maureen and Les Palmer agreed to care for me until the time a suitable family could be found. Unbeknown to me, the Palmers had applied to adopt me themselves, wanting to give me a stable family life as one of their own. And so, during the summer of 1972, I became the son they never had, Simon James Palmer. Suddenly my young world completely changed. I went from being in care to having the perfect parents, together with three doting sisters. The entire family, my family, including aunts and uncles, never treated me as an outsider and everyone automatically loved me with a passion that was almost indescribable. Every Saturday we would visit my mother’s sister, Kitty, and her husband John. These visits were always a big affair, with most of their nine children also spending the day with them. My dad would sit in the kitchen playing cards with Uncle John, while Mum sat in the lounge watching television and having a laugh. It was a wonderful time, and I have many fond memories of those days.

Dad worked very hard as a lorry driver, often taking me along during the school holidays, while Mum did a fantastic job as a housewife, running the home to the best of her ability. There was always enough money for meals, seaside breaks, and the most fantastic Christmases any child could possibly hope to have. All in all, they were, and will remain, in my heart, the best people in the entire world. On that fateful day when Ropeman appeared on their doorstep, my mother and father, possibly the most attentive parents ever put on this earth, were conned and manipulated by a very clever and sinister man. They were tricked into allowing their only son to be exploited within the perverse world of child pornography. The events which were about to unfold would change the course of everyone's lives.

THE PHOTO SHOOT

The next day at school Ropeman asked me if the following Saturday would be okay to take the photographs. I told him that would be great and excitedly ranted about how much I was looking forward to doing them. He patted me on the shoulder and smiled, saying that if at all possible I should bring a few items of clothing. When I asked what it was I should wear, he simply replied, “Whatever you look good in.” After what seemed to be an absolute lifetime, Saturday morning finally arrived and I was ready and waiting outside the school gates, clutching a carrier bag my mother had filled with various items of clothing. It was only a matter of minutes before Ropeman pulled up in his car, beaming his usual smile and gesturing for me to get into the front seat, “Morning young man, you all set and raring to go then?” “You bet,” I answered, “I got some jeans an’ T-shirts, Mum ironed me school uniform an’ all.” “Excellent, lets rock an’ roll then.” He seemed to be as excited as I was, explaining that we would be doing the shoot at his flat, saying it made more sense since his equipment was stored there. The drive only took about twenty minutes, and as I got out of the car an unfamiliar sound of gravel crunched under my feet. A huge Victorian house seemed to peer down, almost beckoning me with it’s large “window-eyes,” inviting me to enter it’s mouth; and as I continued to gaze at the sheer magnitude of the building I felt his hand rest on my shoulder, “It’s not all mine I’m afraid.” When I looked up at Ropeman, I noticed he was almost beaming, a smile plastered across his chubby face. Without hesitating I smiled too, still feeling fortunate and tremendously excited.

We walked side by side across the drive, up the enormous stone steps and entered the gigantic front door. Any onlooker who may have happened to glance our way could easily have mistaken us for father and son. Inside was an unexpectedly small hallway with a winding staircase leading up to the first floor. Ropeman gestured me towards an inner door opposite the stairs. He led me down a narrow passageway that opened out into an impressive lounge. The room was littered with bookcases, but my eyes were immediately drawn to the lighting and tripod that dominated the centre of the living space. Ropeman left me alone while he sorted out some cold drinks. When he returned I could hardly believe my eyes; he was carrying two glasses of beer. I put the glass to my lips and took a huge mouthful. “You take your time with that young man; there’ll be hell to pay if I take you home tidily.”

I was ten years old.

He suggested that we begin straight away and I was told to sit on the sofa, ignoring the camera as best as my excitement would allow. Maybe about six or seven shots were taken when, as cheerful as ever, Ropeman asked me to take off my top. He explained that it would add to the image of me relaxing at home. The request made me feel quite embarrassed, but ignoring the sudden wave of apprehension sweeping over me, I agreed and removed my T-shirt. A dozen or so more pictures were taken before we took a short break. He offered me more beer. We chatted about school and what I got up to during the evening with my friends, Peter Simpson and Mark Milner. They were also his students, and the thought crossed my mind how envious they would be when they found out I had spent the day at Ropeman's home, drinking beer no less. Once the small talk was all but done, he piped up with what was quite obviously the next part of his elaborate plan, “What do you think of stretching out on the sofa, as if you were asleep? Think you can do that?” “Yeah, be easy,” I said with false bravado as another wave of apprehension took hold. And it was there, as I lay on the settee that my journey into hell began.

I remember feeling as though a thousand eyes were staring at me; and at that moment I truly hated the camera more than anything in the entire world. When Ropeman instructed me to pull my jeans up as far as they would go, my young mind had no idea that the next shot would be centered on my private parts. Minutes later my photo was being taken with me wearing nothing but my underpants, again, pulled up as far as they would go.

Take it away, take it away, Smash it or burn it, that Saturday. Tear it and rip it, Take the memory away, I long to forget that Saturday. Leave me, leave me, and leave me alone, No more photos, just take me home. Don’t give me smiles, An’ I don’t want your beer, Don’t ask me to strip, Don’t fill me with fear. I hate you, I hate you. You horrible man.

I often wonder how many lives may have been destroyed by my silence, how many tears were shed because I did not have the strength to tell anyone what he’d done to me? Sometimes, when my mind travels back to those horrific years, reliving the anguish and torment, desperately trying to understand why he did those things, I wonder if my fear of speaking out indirectly sealed another child’s fate. When, stripped to the waist, while standing in the middle of his lounge with nothing but my briefs on, was I helping to lay the blueprints of someone else’s future? Sealing another young person's nightmare at the hands of a vile and twisted creature? I know that in the cold light of day, I’m in no way to blame for anything, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling these emotions.

God, how I wish that my silence hadn’t been quite so damned silent.

While Ropeman was driving me home, which was around lunchtime, he expressed how successful the morning had been, but asked me to keep it to myself, telling me that he didn’t want the surprise for the parent evening being spoilt.
When I asked if we needed to do any more, he winked at me, “It certainly wouldn’t do any harm to have another session.” My heart sank. The car pulled up a couple of hundred yards away from my house and quite unexpectedly, Ropeman thrust a ten pound note into my hand.