This excerpt from 'The Badness' is a trip into D. Wayne's world, where he lives under the strong hand of Joselle, his abusive, alcoholic mother. Joselle views her son's timid nature as a sign of weakness and she determines that there is only one way to make a man out of him.
"You called your mother a ho!" Her lips were mere inches from his face. "If I'm a ho, I'm a damn good ho! Sexy enough to be a ho if I want to."
D. Wayne didn't know the answer to that one. He didn't know that hos had to be sexy. But there are some sexy hos though, he reasoned. Some of them girls be wearin that real sexy ho uniforms too! D. Wayne felt his nature throbbing at the memory as he pulled up images of a few of the working girls that he saw on his way home from school. He fixed them in his mental Rolodex and began to replay their fleshy movements- which were practiced to perfection. His imagination caught fire every time he saw one stunner who had an ass that he could only descibe as perfect flesh. She liked to wear tiny mini-skirst but she didn't particularly care for underwear. D. Wayne like to watch her walk and as her hips caught his lust in an uproar, he imagined that he spied the roundness of her mound, swaying with an open invitation for pleasure. D. Wayne was a virgin but instinct screamed for him to put his manhood inside of her and once that mission was accomplished there would be no better place on earth. His cock stiffened wtih the anticipation.
Joselle noticed his excitement too. "Look at you," she indicated his erection. "You talk that shit... but look at you!" She quickly reached down and grabbed his dick through his underwear. "That! That is the same shit that men do! Then they wanna call you a ho! You seen ho juice, boy and look at you! You just another motha fucka." Joselle released him and walked unsteadily over to her dresser with her drink in her hand. D. Wayne collapsed, his knees were weak with shock. Joselle had touched his privates!
"Joselle! That's nasty! You can't touch me down there! No! You can't!"
Joselle turned a drunken eye on him. She tilted the drink and drained the rest of the vodka before she slammed the empty glass on the dresser and picked up Flo Jigga. She claimed that her knife that she named Flo Jigga was really her best friend. When she got drunk enough she even sang to it: Flo Jigga! Bent flat and curved for a nigga! She walked over to D. Wayne. "Get in my bed." It was a simple command, spoken without question and with a quality that he had never heard in her voice before. But he was not going to get in Joselle's bed. She has to be fucking crazy!
"But Joselle..." D. Wayne began. She moved fast. The next thing he felt were her fingers digging firmly into the flesh of his throat.
"You better not lose that hard boy," she snarled. "Now. Get. In. That. Bed!" She yanked him to his feet and hurled him toward the bed. When D. Wayne regained his balance, he turned back toward Joselle and was met by Flo Jigga, inches away from his throat.