“Oh goodness, that does sound serious,” Mr. Habberton said, looking at Mr. and Mrs. Gremmory over the top of his spectacles, “And how long has this behavior been going on?”

“Years now. It started small, you know, just being obstinante! All teenagers are like that a little bit. We assumed it would just be a phase, but it’s only gotten worse! And now they want to throw him in jail!” Mrs. Grammory said, and then burst into tears and her husband held her while she sobbed.

“Please Mr. Habberton, if there’s anything you can do–we’re desperate,” he said, looking down at his wife.

“Well, selling drugs and stealing cars is a pretty difficult case, but I’ll take it. Bring him to this address tomorrow morning,” Mr. Habberton said, and handed them his card, “I’ll get the boy sorted out, trust me.”

The parents thanked him profusely, and Mr. Habberton went back to his large mansion, where one his many boys helped him undress and provided him with his evening blowjob, and he looked over young Dennis “Den Man” Grammony’s file, looking at the rough, unkempt man in the photos, smoking a cigarette, scowling towards the lens. All he really needed, like the rest of his boys needed, was some proper discipline–still, young Dennis would probably require a month in sensory deprivation before he’d be pliable enough to conform to the house rules. Even then, he’d probably have to be leashed to Mr. Habberton and tightly caged, to ensure proper compliance. Still, his methods were extreme, but he did have a one hundred percent success rate. And all of his boys were plenty satisfied living in his spacious mansion, or at least until they got too old. Then he’d sell them off for a handsome profit. Still, he was going to enjoy breaking this one–but then again, he did always enjoy breaking in the violent ones.

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