The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

They Got Us

Hi, Robert.

Yeah, it’s me. Your self. If you’re reading this, it means that they got to you. To us. To me.

Wow, this is weird, talking to myself. Or writing to myself, as the case may be—to a now-ignorant version of me ....

I knew they would be after us when they found out—after all of us. Something like this is just too big to not squash when it begins to leak.

When I realized this, I took several of our journal entries and included them with this explanation and sent it out on the net. This e-mail has probably been around the world 20 or 30 times, time-paused at each hop along the way to hopefully throw them off our trail. If you’re reading this, I guess it worked. You may get this message several times—I sent it out via multiple routes.

I deleted the original entries from our journal, though I don’t expect that to help much. I suspect they’ll just do a mass brain-wipe of the town to clean up this mess.

I’ll warn you now that you’re not going to believe this. I couldn’t believe it even as it happened. But there it was ... happening.

Do me—us—a favor and read this entire message all the way through, no matter how insane it sounds before you judge me—us? yourself?—as crazy.

I guess the best way to start this off is to just jump right into our first journal entry of the events:

Monday, November 5th. I can’t believe what happened today! It was like something out of a porn movie, for goodness sake!

I was sneaking to the supply closet in the front office for a cup of coffee when ....

Photographers Do It With a Flash

“You’re not supposed to notice me,” Robert whispered when Mrs Stotter glanced up from her desk in the front office.

“You know that coffee will stunt your growth, Robert,” the pretty blonde secretary whispered back.

“I’m eighteen. I’m already as growthed as I’m going to get.” He continued walking toward the supply closet that held the precious brown brewed liquid. “And thanks for understanding senioritis,” he grinned.

Barbara Stotter understood senioritis—had watched her daughter Tina go through it last year. But, “It has nothing to do with understanding bored high school seniors, Robert. Your mother said that it was okay for you to have a little coffee now and then, but to let you keep thinking you were sneaking it—that it would taste better for you that way.”

Robert harrumphed. His mother taught senior English and the administrative staff at the school always knew all about his life-events—like his first kiss two years ago, which Mrs Stotter had thought was just darling. “Just darling”! No man likes to be “just darling.”

It wasn’t easy being a teacher’s son.

“Well, get your coffee,” she flicked her hand at the closet, “before we both get caught.”

“Thanks!” he whispered and ducked inside. He filled his mug with the last in the pot, then ran some water in the empty pot to start brewing the next one.

Meanwhile, Principal Chadburn stepped out of his office, carrying a camera. “Hi, Barbara. Anyone else out here?”

Her eyes flicked toward the supply closet. “No, sir. Just me,” she smiled.

“In that case, I’d like to get a couple pictures for the yearbook if I could.”

“Sure,” she sighed. Usually they waited another month or two before they started in with this yearbook stuff.

He brought the camera up and she put a smile on her face.

Robert had heard Principal Shitbum and was peeking out where the closet door was opened a crack.

Flash.

“That’s good, Barbara. How about a couple more?”

“O ... kay,” she said, looking a little distracted.

“But you’re a pretty girl. Stand up, take off that jacket. Let’s see your pretty figure.”

“Thank you, sir,” she smiled, standing and removing the jacket.

“Smile.”

Flash.

“Oh, beautiful! You should have been a fashion model. Pull your hair back and up and let it fall to your shoulders.”

Pleased with the compliments, she smiled and did so.

“Yeah, that’s nice, Barbie! Now let’s see a pout. C’mon, more than that. Show me that bottom lip. Your hubby won’t get you that cute little kitten at the pet shop that you asked him so nicely for. Yeah, that’s it.”

Flash.

“Now even more pout. You’re man has abandoned you for the night all alone at home all HOT and BOTHERED. Isn’t that just horribly, horribly MEAN of him? Oh, yeah, THAT’S the pout.”

Flash.

“Yeah, you’re just EXUDING sexiness, baby. Now lean forward and cup your breasts through your blouse.”

Robert’s eyes widened as he watched the pretty blonde administrator do as she was told.

Flash.

“Oh, Barbie, the camera loves you. Come around and sit on the front of the desk.”

Robert watched Mrs Stotter flounce around and sit on the top of her desk.

Flash.

“Okay, let’s hike that skirt up and show a little knee, Barbie.”

Mrs Stotter grinned naughtily as she pulled her hem up to about three inches above her knee.

Flash.

“Barbie! You’re a NATURAL! Now hike it up a little further and let’s see that look of SHOCK as you get caught FLASHING your PUSSY.”

Robert’s jaw dropped as Mrs Stotter—the coworker of his mother and the mother of one of his long-time friends—pulled her skirt up to show white panties!

“No, no! What in the world were you thinking, honeybunch?!”

Barbie raised her eyebrows and looked hurt.

“You’re a star, sweetheart, a model. You don’t ever want to be caught wearing something as mundane as panties.”

“No?”

“No,” Shitbum shook his head solemnly.

“I’m ... sorry ....”

“Well, now ... reach up and pull them off.”

“I ... don’t think that ....”

Flash.

“You’re HOT, baby. You’re TEASING the camera. Now let’s lose the sopping wet underwear.”

Giggling, Mrs Stotter hopped off the desk, her skirt dropping back down. Reaching up underneath, she wriggled her ass as she slid her panties to her knees, then off. Smiling, she turned around and held them up, dangling from her thumb and forefinger.

Flash.

“Now tell me how wet they are, Barbie.”

“Oh, honey,” she smiled, “I am just a JUICER! And I am SO turned ON right now!”

“WHAT ... is going on here?!” Ms Carmichael stood with her fists on her hips, having just walked in on a scene wholly unexpected and utterly inappropriate in a public high school!

Flash.

“Yes, YES, the camera likes you TOO, Rachel.”

“I, ehr ....”

Flash.

“Oh, yeah, what a SEXY little thing you are. Doesn’t this look like FUN? To pose like Barbie?”

“I, uhm ....”

Flash.

“Yeah, now hold your left hand up behind your head, Rach, and cock your hip out to the left like you’re a model on Vogue.”

“I—I, uh—like this?” She flashed a smile up on her face.

Flash.

“Beautiful! Hot! Sexy! Now lean forward and shake your chest to jiggle your boobies!”

Ms Carmichael, 45 year old stern brunette math teacher with pretty, arched eyebrows, bent over and tentatively shook her chest to show off her large boobs.

“Rachel, Rachel, no. You’re wearing a bra, aren’t you?”

“Uhm ... yeah?”

“No, honey. You have the cleavage to go bare. You don’t ever want to mess up your pretty figure with a ...,” Chadburn made a face, “bra.”

“I—I’m ... sorry. I ... I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl!”

By this point, Mrs Stotter was looking confused, still holding up her soggy panties for some reason like some wet flag of lust. “Perhaps I should,” she pointed toward the door leading out.

“Nonsense! Let me get a picture of both of you. Sit next to each other on the front of the desk there.”

The two women did as they were told, Mrs Stotter the more hesitant of the two.

Flash.

“Beautiful! Beautiful! You were both MADE for the camera!”

Flash.

“Now, Rachel, lay your left hand on Barbie’s right knee. Smile, girls.”

Flash.

“Great! Now, Barbie, lean over and kiss rachel on the cheek. That’s it! Beautiful!”

Flash.

“Rachel, turn your head around and meet Barbie’s kiss.”

Robert watched through the door crack in amazement as the two women pressed their lips together for the camera.

Flash.

“Wonderful! Wonderful! Now Barbie, I want you to use a little tongue on Rachel, but pull your lips back from hers slightly so I can catch it on film.”

Mrs Stotter wound up messily licking Ms Carmichael’s lips and tongue, which came out to play with hers.

Flash.

“Rachel, reach up and tell me if ... if Barbie is wearing a bra.”

“Yeah ... yeah, she is,” Ms Carmichael gasped in between tonguing Mrs Stotter back after she groped the younger woman’s boob a few moments.

Flash.

“Well, let’s continue this photo shoot in my office, girls. And we can turn it into a really hot three-way shoot.”

The two women stood, still caressing and feeling each other up, and followed Mr Chadburn into his office.

Holy ... SHIT!

Mrs Stotter just ... and then Ms Carmichael just ... and then they BOTH ....

Holy ... SHIT!

Like I said earlier, I couldn’t believe that happened any more than I’m sure you can reading about it now. I pinched myself to make sure I was awake until I bruised. I threw out the coffee in case someone had spiked it with something that would make those three act like that. I poked my head back in the front office that afternoon to see what Mrs Stotter was doing then. She looked at me a little strangely—I didn’t usually step in just to say good night—but she seemed otherwise okay.

I spent the next few days trying to figure if what I thought happened was real or not.

Principal Shitbum had told Mrs Stotter that she should never wear panties and Ms Carmichael that she shouldn’t wear a bra anymore ....

“More coffee, Robert?” Mrs Stotter asked without looking up.

Robert wasn’t even trying to sneak by this morning.

“Uhm, Mrs Stotter, could I get you to check where the coffee pot is plugged in with me? I thought it might have a loose wire yesterday and wouldn’t want it to start a fire.”

“Sure, Robert. It wasn’t smoking or anything, was it?”

“No, ma’am, but it looked like part of the six-way plug was loose.

She stood and followed him into the supply closet.

Robert pulled the cords out of the six-way plug, including the coffee pot, then pulled the six-way out of the wall and let it slip to the floor.

“Oops. I dropped it. Could you pick it up for me?”

Barbara raised her eyebrows—Robert was perfectly fine to bend over and pick it up himself—but after a moment, she knelt to retrieve it.

Robert quickly studied the back of her skirt as best he could—there did not APPEAR to be any panty lines.

“Robert?”

“Ma’am?” That was a wrinkle to the side of her hip, not a panty line.

“Are you trying to stare at my ass?”

“No!” His eyes widened and he jerked them away from her and to the floor. “No, ma’am!”

She stood. “Because it sure looked like it.”

“No, ma’am! I just wanted to check the six-way.” He took it from her. “But it appears to be okay now.” He turned and plugged it back into the wall, then reconnected all the plugs to it and turned around.

Mrs Stotter was standing with her arms crossed, her eyes at half-height. Very deliberately, she moved her eyes from his ass up to meet his gaze. “Now you know what it feels like,” she arched an eyebrow.

“Uhm, yes, ma’am.” He cast his gaze down. Head bent over, he stepped past her and out into the office. “Uhm, thank you.”

He was still dark crimson as he stepped back into the outer office and then into the hall.

After math class—the last one of the day—Robert walked up to Ms Carmichael’s desk. He had studied the back of her blouse for bra straps during class, but hadn’t seen any.

“Yes, Robert?”

“Ms Carmichael, it looked like someone, uhm, taped—" he gestured toward her back, then stepped behind her. While he reached behind his own back to retrieve the “grouch” piece of paper that he had taped there, he felt across her shoulder for a bra strap.

Nothing!

He felt up the center of her back for bra snaps.

Nothing!

“Robert, are you feeling me up for a bra?”

“No! I—" he swallowed hard.

“Because I’m not wearing one.”

“—I was just getting this.” He held out the “grouch” sign. “Someone taped that to you.”

She took it and studied it, raising one eyebrow.

“You’re not, uhm, wearing a bra, Ms Carmichael?”

“No.” She arched one eyebrow. “Robert ... isn’t this YOUR handwriting?”

How could she know?! She COULDN’T tell with big printed letters like that! She HAD to be bluffing!

Ms Carmichael took note of Robert’s panic-wide eyes and nodded. “You’re just trying to ogle teacher’s boobies, aren’t you, young man?”

“I—I—" he shook his head in denial.

“Oh, I understand. All the boys try.” She smoothed the blouse over one of them. “There quite nice, really—the boobs I mean. I don’t blame you young men,” she mused.

“I—I—”

“But we’re teacher and student, Robert, and we shouldn’t pursue this much further. Here,” her face melted into a compassionate smile, “I can do this for you, but nothing more.” She hopped up and down for several seconds.

Robert swallowed hard. Her boobies really jiggled quite ... delightfully ... through her blouse.

“You like that, don’t you?” she smiled.

“Y-yeah.”

“Well, you whack off to that for a little while, but that’s the most I can give you.” She wagged her finger at him. “And don’t you go trying to cop feels from me, young man.”

“No, ma’am!”

“Because I’d have to say something by the fourth or fifth time you did something like that,” she smiled. “Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now you run along,” she ushered him out of her classroom, copping a feel of his butt in the process.”

WHAT ... in the HELL ... was going on?!

He headed downstairs to the front office in time to catch Mrs Stotter.

She raised one eyebrow. “Hi, Robert.”

Don’t even MENTION this morning’s little scene, he told himself—don’t draw any more attention to it than it had already drawn.

“I just, uhm, wanted to show you the coins that Mr Johnson brought me back from his trip to France. Here, this one’s a franc.” He deliberately held it so she’d have to spin her chair toward him to take it, which she did.

“And this—oops.” He dropped the next coin to the floor, then dropped himself to his knees to retrieve it.

And to look up her skirt for panties.

“Oops.” He let the other three coins clink out of his hand onto the floor, then slowly retrieved them too, all the while trying to see if he could make out any panties in the shadowy space between her knees.

“Robert?”

From his hands and knees, he looked up to meet her gaze.

“Are you trying to look up my skirt?”

Shit, not again!

She was still looking at him, one eyebrow raised.

“I—" he shook his head.

With a faint smile, she pinched the hem of her skirt in her fingers, then slid her hips forward, spreading her knees apart.

Robert’s jaw dropped.

Soft, light brown pubic hair surrounded dark pink pussy lips. Robert gaped back up at her face.

“Well, that’s what you wanted to see, wasn’t it?”

“I—I—”

She slid her hips back and dropped her skirt. “Does that get it out of your system? Or are you going to need follow-up treatments?”

Jesus Christ! What was going ON here?! He stood and backed out of the office, stammering.

How Do You Get a Twinkle in a Blonde’s Eye?

Author’s Note:

Q: How do you get a twinkle in a blonde’s eye?

A: You shine a flashlight in her ear.

By this point, we knew that SOMETHING was going on, you and I.

Other people were catching on too:

Thursday, November 15th. Paul was really wound up today ....

“Man, you OWE me,” Paul pointed his forefinger at Robert, “for bringing you IN on this!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll owe you. For bringing me in on what?”

“Just follow us,” Al Chadburn nodded smugly. Altus—Principal Chadburn’s son—had been a fat pimply brat as a child, and he was now a fat pimply brat as a young man.

Paul Glickman was a skinny, pimply geek. The mad scientist comes in two flavors: the arrogant bastard that tampers with things that man was never meant to tamper with; and the timid genius with the occasional perverted taste. Paul was of the latter category. He was already accepted into MIT, where he would work with laser and sub nuclear fusion and other scary things while paying for sex with the monthly prostitute.

Paul was also Robert’s best friend.

“Man, you are going to LOVE this!” Paul spun around, ready to pop with excitement as he and Robert followed the fat kid up the hall.

“Easy, Paul. Don’t wet your pants.”

Paul deflated and turned back around, considerably dampened. “Man, you’re not showing NEARLY enough appreciation for this,” he muttered.

The halls were empty, abandoned by the students when the end of day bell rang twenty minutes ago.

Al came to a stop in front of Miss Caloway’s geography classroom. Debra Caloway mostly taught 8th and 9th graders, but she was the centerpiece in many a wet dream by all male students. And male teachers. In fact, the principal would like to bend her over and ....

She was in.

The three boys stepped into her classroom. “Hi, Miss Caloway,” Al smiled. “Tina told you I was going to come by to take your picture for the yearbook, didn’t she?” He dropped his backpack and dug a camera out of it.

Miss Caloway frowned. “No, she didn’t say anything about—”

“Guess it slipped her mind,” Al shrugged, “But that’s okay.”

Flash.

“Uh ... yeah ... I guess. Where ... do you want me to pose?”

“Why don’t you come around to the front of your desk?”

She came around and sat on the edge, laying her hands in her lap. “Like this?”

“Beautiful!” Flash. “Have you ever thought of modeling? You’d be wonderful at it!”

Miss Caloway giggled and shrugged. “I’ve thought about it a couple times.”

Flash.

“Well, now’s your chance.”

This was starting off just like Principal Chadburn’s session with Mrs Stotter and Ms Carmichael the other morning! Could ... Miss Caloway be ... ?!

Could God BE so kind ... ?

Flash.

“Beautiful! Beautiful! Now turn around and give us a come-hither look over your right shoulder.”

“Like this?”

Flash.

“Yes! Exactly like that! Now cock your butt out and shake it from side to side for us.”

Robert had been going to say, “This isn’t right, you guys,” but the ass in question began undulating and sapped that moral stance clean out of him.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“Have any of the students ever told you you’re pretty?”

She smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, they tell me that sometimes.”

Flash.

“Good! ‘Cause you have a hell of an ass, woman!”

She giggled and shook it again.

Flash.

“Now turn around and give us your dumb blonde look.”

Giggling, Debra turned around, crossed her eyes, slacked her jaw and smiled. “It’s like ... y’know ... all about what’s important. Ya know? Hee-hee.”

“Great! You make a REALLY good dumb blonde, Debbie! You’re a natural blonde, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she giggled. “As blonde as the fur between my legs.”

Flash.

“Wow, a natural dumb blonde!”

“No, not a natural DUMB blonde, just a nat—”

Flash.

“That’s what I said: a natural dumb blonde. But look at you—you’re even getting confused about whether you’re dumb or not. Trust me: you are.”

“I—I am?” Her brow furrowed. “But ... but I’m a teacher.”

Flash. “You’re eye candy. Just dumb eye candy that we let dress up like a teacher ‘cause you’re HOT that way.”

“But—”

Flash.

“We ALL wanna boff you, Debbie. And it just makes you SO wet between your legs thinking about all the stiff pricks standing up just for you! But, no, you couldn’t think your way out of a wet paper bag, you blonde, big-titted bimbo.”

“But ... I’m ....”

Flash. “Damn, your dumb look is hot, bitch! And you wear it all the time!”

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“But ...,” she whined.

“Okay, look, I’ll prove it to you. I’m going to ask you a question in just a second. Now picture the answer. It’s like a beautiful, multi-colored butterfly!”

“Ooh!” she cooed.

Flash. “But you can’t catch it. No matter how hard you try, the butterfly zigs and zags and darts and you just can’t get your dumb pretty blonde bimbo hands on it. So let’s try. Ready?”

“Ehr ....”

“Quick! What’s the ancient name of Thailand?!”

“I—It’s—”

“QUICK!”

“It’s—I know it. It’s—”

“Hurry! What’s the answer?!”

“I—It’s—ooh!” She stamped her foot. “I KNOW this one! It’s—it’s on the tip of my tongue!”

“Brrrrrrnnnnnnggggghhhh! I am SO sorry, Debbie! But you have missed that question. The proper answer, if you had any brains inside that dumb blonde bimbo head of yours, is Siam.”

“Siam! Yes!” she snapped her fingers. “That’s it! I knew that one! I don’t know why it just slipped my mind ....”

Flash. “No, you didn’t. You don’t know it. Or you would have said it. Right?”

“Yeeeaah.”

“So you’re dumb. You’re just dumb blonde bimbo Debbie.”

“No,” she pouted, brow furrowed. “I’m not. I’m a teacher! I’m smart!”

“Care to play again?”

“Yeah! I’ll show you! I’m smart!”

Flash. “Okay, Debbie. This time the answer is a bee, and it’s buzzing around your nose.”

“Eeww! Yuck!”

Flash. “You are so sexy when you show off your bimbo-hood! So the answer bee is buzzing around your nose, and you’re going to try to catch it between your thumb and forefinger. If you succeed, he’ll sting your thumb, which will swell up like a red, throbbing golf ball, but that will be okay because you’ll be able to answer the question. Now if you CAN answer the question, we’ll admit that maybe—maybe—you’re not just the dumb blonde bimbo that you are. But if you can’t—”

Flash. “If you can’t answer it, you’ll have to remove your blouse.”

“My blouse?! Wait—”

“Quick! What’s the northernmost country in South America?! Quick!”

“I—It’s, uhm, that one ... that one that ... it’s wide and flat ... and it’s got a really long name ... and Juan Valdez works there ....”

The three boys looked at each other. Juan Valdez?

“C’mon, Debbie! HURRY! You’re running OUT OF TIME!”

“Oh, dammit!” she stamped her foot. “I KNOW this one!”

“Brrrrnnngh! Apparently you don’t ... know that this country is called Venezuela.”

“Yes!” she jabbed her finger at Al. “THAT’S it! Venezuela!”

“Debbie, Debbie, Debbie. Dumb blonde Debbie. The shirt, babe.”

“Nooo,” she held the front of her shirt to herself possessively.

Flash. “You HAVE to live up to your promise, dumb Debbie.”

Flash. “And you’ll make all of our hard-ons swell just a little bit harder. And that thought REALLY turns you on, dumb Debbie.”

“I—It will? Really?”

Al nodded.

“Cool!” She began unbuttoning. After a couple moments, she dropped the blouse to the floor. “Are you guys ... really ... swelling for me?”

The three boys nodded.

“Cool!”

Flash. “I’m sorry. I just can’t stop taking pictures of your pretty dumb blonde looks!”

“Well ... I guess it’s okay if you do that a little bit. I DO get sort of ditsy sometimes.”

Flash. “Okay, Debbie. This time the answer is an angry wasp!”

“Oh!” her brow furrowed with concern.

“And it’s coming after YOU, Debbie! It’s going to sting YOU!”

“No!”

“Run! Run from the answer before it stings you!”

“Please! Don’t!”

“QUICK! What’s the capital of Europe?! Quick!”

“I don’t know! Stay away from me, answer! Stay away!” She waved her arms in front of her like she were swatting at a wasp.

“You don’t know?!”

“No! Stay away!”

“And the answer is—”

“Stay away!”

“Europe doesn’t have a capital. Europe isn’t a country.”

“Oh.”

“So ... take off your skirt, dum-dum Debbie.”

“But I can’t.”

Flash. “But you HAVE to. You lost the question. You HAVE to take off your skirt.”

“But—" She dropped her voice to a whisper, “but you’re students!”

“Students with hard-ons!” Paul piped in.

Debbie gestured toward Paul while she looked at Al and nodded. “Students with hard-ons.” See?

“And you’re a dumb blonde bimbo that’s getting really hot thinking about our erections.”

“I ... uh ...,” she fidgeted with her hands a moment, then unzipped the side of her skirt. “You guys can’t tell ANYBODY about this!” She slid the skirt to the floor, then stood back up.

“I’ll get the door,” Paul said and stepped to shut it.

“Debbie,” Al whispered, “your crotch is really WET!”

“I KNOW!” She fidgeted from leg to leg. “And you boys are seeing me in my underwear, and you’re not supposed to, and that’s making it even WETTER!”

“Squishier?”

She nodded sincerely. “Squishier!”

Flash. “I know that you’re so horny you could explode, but do you think you can keep from frigging yourself for a couple more questions?”

“I’ll try.”

Flash. “Okay, Debbie. This time, the answer is a poisonous snake slithering toward you.”

“Eeeeewwwwww!”

“Yeah, ew. And it’s trying to bite you.”

“No!”

“Quick! What’s the capital of New York? Quick!”

“I don’t know! I don’t want to remember! Don’t bite me!”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Keep the answer away from me!”

“And the answer is ... New York City. Lose the bra, Debbie.”

“Actually,” Paul corrected, “the answer is Albany.”

“Well ... she still has to take off the bra,” Al protested.

“Oh, I would agree!” Paul nodded.

“And since I missed the question too, I’ll just whip out Long John Thomas here.”

Miss Caloway’s eyes grew wide. “You will?”

“After you lose the bra, bitch.”

Debbie reached behind and unsnapped her bra, then let it fall, exposing D-cups with the biggest, pinkest nipples any of the boys had ever seen. Of course, none of them had ever seen any live naked breasts before.

“Oh, man!” Paul writhed in his seat, “We are seeing Miss Caloway’s TITS!”

“John Thomas?” the blonde teacher prompted.

“Sure.” With almost a strut to his actions, Altus unbelted, unzipped and dropped clothing to reveal a perky little three-incher. “Bet just thinking about this monster gets you all hot and ready, hungh, Debbie?”

Reverently Debbie reached out to touch the little fella.

“Man, is that all you’ve got?” Paul asked, blinking his eyes.

“You think you can do better?”

Robert’s best friend stood, unzipped and dropped to expose fourteen inches.

Debbie gasped and moved to reverently run her fingers over the new guy. After a few moments, she turned to Robert. “Bobby?”

Robert unclothed to reveal the average six inches, but certainly an enthusiastic six inches. He almost squirted when she touched it.

“Yeah, well, it’s not the size, it’s how you use it,” Al stammered. “Okay, Debbie,” he brought the conversation back to the pretty blonde. “Last question. What country do you reside in?”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that complicated political stuff,” she flicked her hand and giggled. “I’m just your basic dumb blonde. Pretty to look at, but vacant,”—she knocked on her skull with her fist—“up here. Guess that means I lose. And these come off.” She stood and hooked her thumbs in her waistband, then pulled her soaked underwear to the floor and stood back up. “See? Natural dumb blonde! (giggle) Guess you boys are seeing ALL of me now! And I’m ready for some student COCK!”

The boys began running their hands over the dumb blonde teacher’s body and they were soon in a knot of flesh on the floor with her.

Dumb Debbie was on her hands and knees, ass in the air, making little squeals in time to Paul’s pumps from behind while Robert and Al laid out a round.

“Man, what is happening with these women?!” Robert wondered.

“Which ones do you mean?” Al asked.

“Well, there was Mrs Stotter. And then Ms Carmichael. Now Miss Caloway.”

Al got a smug smile on his face. “I think all the bitches are getting camera-happy. Why ... I’ve even done your mom twice.”

“You shit!” Robert punched him in the upper arm. “Don’t even lie about that!”

Al massaged the punched shoulder. “I’ve done her twice,” he repeated defiantly, “and she’s a good enough that I may do her a couple more times!”

“You—!”

The door opened then, and Becky Lane, senior and head cheerleader—who had been going to plead for grades from Miss Caloway—stood in the doorway sucking in air as she gaped at the awful scene in front of her.

Al dove for the camera.

Flash.

“We’re doing a (flash) photo session and you really (flash) REALLY (flash) want to join in, Becky!”

“I ... ehr ....”

Flash. “Let’s start off with a naked cheerleader routine ....”

Robert wasn’t paying much attention to the carbohydrates and esters during first period chemistry class. Instead, he was worrying about what Altus Shitbum had said yesterday.

About ... “doing” ... his mother.

The little prick HAD to be lying. There was just no way his mother would EVER ... bend over ... for the likes of him. Or for anybody.

But ... then ... Miss Caloway would never strip for three students, either.

Until now.

He fidgeted in his seat. It was all fun and games when it was some other teacher or somebody else’s mother that was stripping and posing and doing nasting things for you.

But when it was your OWN mother going down like that ....

He decided that whatever was causing all these other women to be talked into being whores, his mother was immune to. Because she just wouldn’t ... ever ....

Not ever.

He would have like to have talked to his dad—obviously he couldn’t talk about this specifically! But talking with his dad had a way of making him feel that everything was going to be okay. His dad was on a business trip for two weeks, though.

The classroom door opened and Mrs Stotter poked her head in. “Mr Jesperson? Principal Chadburn would like to speak—ooh!” She jiggled, slapping something away from her ass and revealing in the process that she had on a candy pink tube top. Then she refocused. “Principal Chadburn would like to speak to Robert Metcalfe for a little while.” She put on her perky face. “Please?”

“I ... guess. Mrs Stotter, are you feeling all right?”

“Oh, never better, baby!”

Jesperson turned to Robert. “Mr Metcalfe, you are excused to go with Mrs Stotter.”

Robert gathered his books and stepped outside.

Mrs Stotter was wriggling while Paul felt up her ass.

“I thought you might want to frolic some,” Paul grinned.

“Yeah, thanks, man.”

“Hi, Bobby!” Mrs Stotter lightly tapped him on the nose.

“Hi, Mrs Stotter.”

“Oh, call me Barbie, Bobby. It makes me feel more like an empty-headed sex doll. OOOH!” She wriggled at Paul’s wandering hand again.

“You ought to call Tina and have her come home for the weekend. Then you could BOTH do a photo shoot for me,” Paul encouraged.

“Oh, no, I’d rather Tina not get involve—”

Paul brought his camera up. Flash.

“Just think, you could ... kiss .. her. Man, that would be HOT!”

“I, ehr ....”

Flash.

“And she’ll make you even more attractive to me, Barbie.”

“She ... will?”

Flash. “Yeah! There’s nothing hotter than a babe and her daughter babe both together!”

“I ... uh, guess so.”

Flash. “So you’re going to call her?”

“Yeah.”

Flash. “Even you have to agree that she’s hot enough to drool over, Barbie.”

“Yeah, she is ... a hottie.”

“Now you’re coming around, Barbie. And those TITS! Don’t you just want to squeeze those tits of hers?”

“They ARE pretty squeezable, aren’t they?” Barbie grinned. “And when she traipses that ass through a room, you just get the urge to smack it a few times until it makes her all hot and wet and wriggly!”

“That’s the spirit! So you’re going to call her?”

“You bet her ass, baby! Meanwhile ....” She cupped Paul’s crotch.

Paul looked at Robert. “Man, this is how things OUGHT to be!”

“But Tina is our friend, Paul.”

“Yeah, our friend with TITS!”

“But the three of us used to play together all the time. You can’t just ... use ... her!”

“We’ll be better friends than ever. We’ll just be playing a different kind of game.” Paul wagged his eyebrows.

“Hide the salami!” Barbie giggled, still cupping Paul’s crotch.

Paul gestured at Tina’s mom. See? Hide the salami. Even her mom’s okay with it.

“Oh, think of that little hussy’s ass, Bobby,” Barbie traced her other forefinger down his chest. “Don’t you just want to rub your stiffie up and down the greased-up globes of that ass? Until you just squirt your load all over them?”

Robert looked at Paul. “Man, what have you done to Mrs Stotter?”

“Do you like her? I went over and we had a long talk last night.”

“Well, you talked,” Barbie giggled. “I just sucked and bounced. And posed.”

“What about Mr Stotter?” Bobby asked.

“That dickless bitch?” Mrs Stotter sneered.

“We had a photo session where I cut a hole in a pillow,” Paul smiled, “and he tried to hump that. Then I sent him and the pillow into the closet for an intimate date the rest of the night. Then Barbie and I discussed lots of things.”

“I want you now, baby,” Barbie sighed, her face serious, her hand working at Paul’s crotch. “Do me! Here in the hall! Please?”

“Hold on to your panties, Bar—”

“But I’m not WEARING panties,” she smiled naughtily, shaking her head. “And I wanna hump my daughter’s boyfriend!”

Bobby looked at Paul. “You were never Tina’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, but he WILL be, as soon as she gets a glimpse of this magnificent schlong!”

Paul puffed up and smiled smugly.

Mrs Stotter stepped in front of Paul, her back to him, then leaned over, pressed her ass back to his crotch and wriggled it.

Paul grabbed her hips to still them, then began rutting his crotch against her ass cheeks, causing her to coo. “Man, I LOVE this family!”

“I’m going to go check on my mom,” Robert said, “and give you two a few minutes of privacy.”

“Thanks, man,” Paul said, unzipping.

As he walked up the hall, Robert saw Becky the cheerleader standing outside a classroom with Mrs Barclay, a redhead history teacher, and Mr Phillips, the nerdy physics teacher.

“There’s really nothing to discuss, Oscar. The girl is strutting around today in this short skirt. PANTILESS!”

“I have the RIGHT to not wear panties!” Becky protested. Al had planted that thought in her steamed-up little mind yesterday afternoon.

Mr Phillips gestured toward the girl. “See? There IS something to discuss.”

“Oscar?!” Mrs Barclay gasped. After a few moments, though, she narrowed her eyes as she realized that Oscar was one of THOSE male teachers that was OKAY with ogling eighteen year old students. Well, it might be legal, but it sure as hell was immoral! This girl was a student, for Christ’s sake! “Mr Phillips—" she said as she raised her hand to point her finger at him.

Mr Phillips brought a camera to his face at the same time.

Flash.

Mrs Barclay lost her train of thought and shook her head, trying to regain it.

“It’s good for women to break out of the straight jackets that men bind them in, don’t you think?” Mr Phillips suggested to her.

“... ehr ... yes, of course.”

Flash.

“It’s GOOD for women to be uninhibited, to be free!”

“Ehr ... yes ....”

Flash.

“Becky here is a model of ‘uninhibited.’ You can learn a LOT from Becky, Mrs Barclay.”

“I ... uhm ....”

“Here. Watch. Becky, flash me your boobs.”

Giggling, Becky yanked her sweater up to expose her breasts.

“Nngg!” Mr Phillips whined at those big pink nipples that Robert saw yesterday afternoon. Flash. The photo of those nips would be a keeper!

Mr Phillips turned to the redhead teacher. “Now your turn, Elaine.” Flash. “Show me yours.”

“I ... ehr ....”

Flash. “Show me your boobs, Elaine.”

“I ....” She began unbuttoning her blouse, unsure.

Flash. “Proudly, Elaine.”

She tried a hesitant smile on her face as she spread the front of her blouse, then let the clothing drop to the floor.

“Now what’s wrong, Elaine? What’s in the way?”

“My ... my bra?”

Mr Phillips nodded.

Flash. “Now show me those AWESOME boobs you have, Elaine.”

With a firmer smile, Mrs Barclay reached behind herself and unsnapped. She slid the straps off and let it drop to the floor.

“Wow, Mrs Barclay! Boobs!” Becky giggled.

Flash. “Nice ‘uns,” Mr Phillips commented.

“Nice ... ‘uns ...,” Mrs Barclay echoed as she traced her palms over them.

Flash. “You’re a model for women everywhere, Elaine.”

She looked at him, puzzled.

Flash. “You’re independent, uninhibited ... and you’re baring your boobs.”

“I ... I am, aren’t I?” She was still tracing her palms over them and the nipples were VERY erect.

“Now, let’s discuss panties ....”

Robert continued up the hall. As he passed by Mrs Caloway’s classroom, he opened the rear door and stepped inside.

Debbie was wearing a tied-off white men’s shirt, daisy dukes and heels.

“And they completed the canal in ... in ... oh, I TOLD you boys,” she wriggled at the front of the room, “You can’t LOOK at me all GA-GA. You’re making me—... I’m gonna WET my PANTS up here, you guys!”

Three girls rolled their eyes, clucked their tongues, slammed their books together, then walked toward the door to leave.

Al Chadburn hopped in front of the door to stop them.

“Out of the way, Altus,” the girl in the center, Julie Preston, the class valedictorian, told him. “You’re not even IN this class. You’re just sitting in for some reason today.” She turned to glare at the wriggling teacher. “Though I can GUESS why!”

“But you ARE in this class, so learn what Debbie is teaching you, Jules.”

“YOU learn, Al. Sit here and ogle the slut teacher. I’m leaving.”

Altus whipped up a camera. Flash.

“Oh, stop it, Altus. Get that camera out of my way.”

Flash. “Smile, bitch,” Al grinned.

The two stared each other down for a couple moments, then Julie splashed a smile on her face. “Happy, Altus? Now step aside, please.”

Flash. “Oh, what a dazzling smile! You ought to keep it on your face all the time!”

“I ... well ... thank you, Altus,” she pulled her bangs back and treated Al to a another pleasant smile.

Flash. “In fact, all three of you are REALLY pretty! Pose for me.”

All three girls smiled, pleased, and touched their hair, then leaned together and smiled, posing for the camera.

Flash.

“What about ME?” Debbie asked, strutting over in her daisy dukes.

“You’re just a slut,” Julie smiled condescendingly.

“You always DID resent that I was assigned to be your independent study adviser instead of Mrs Payson,” Debbie sighed. “But you know what? You really AREN’T so smart at all, you little tight-assed stuck-up boring repressed frigging twat.” Smile.

“YOU—" Julie clenched her fists.

Flash. “Slap her!”

“Bitch!” Julie slapped Mrs Caloway.

Mrs Caloway held her hand to her cheek. “You brazen little SLUT!”

Flash. “Catfight! Tear off each other’s clothes, girls!”

The two women grabbed each other, and Julie’s blouse was promptly ripped off, to her horror.

Flash. “Tear each other’s clothes off, girls!”

A few moments later, Mrs Caloway found herself topless.

A few flashes later, Julie’s pants had been removed and, a couple flashes after that, her bra.

Flash. “Okay, girls, time to ease off the fighting start getting turned on. C’mon, let’s make up. Let’s take it from slaps to caresses.”

Flash. “Let’s start purring, girls. Softer ... softer ....”

Flash. “Time to let our lips brush, girls.”

A few flashes later, the teacher and the valedictorian had their tongues buried in each other’s mouth, caressing and groping each other like fresh lovers.

Al turned to Julie’s two friends. Flash. “You too, girls. Time to strip and join in.”

A few more flashes later, Al had the ladies all posing at the front of the classroom for the enjoyment of the rest of the class.

Robert stepped back out and made his way up the hall to his mother’s classroom. Holding his breath, he peeked through the window in the front door.

She was holding a book, reading from it, then set it down and wrote on the board.

Fully dressed.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Things were just getting too weird. But at least she was okay.

He walked back up the hall to his starting point to find Paul and Barbie naked in the stairwell across from chemistry class, her face bobbing at his lap. They were working toward Paul’s sixteenth ejaculation, so he was showing some staying power.

Robert sat on the step next to his naked friend. “What do you think is going on here, Paul?”

“Somebody’s been programming our women,” Paul sighed while Mrs Stotter continued to polish his rod. “Programming all of us, actually, because the flash worked on Mr Stotter last night. So watch yourself, Robert. Don’t let anyone take your picture.”

“But how? Why? Is it something chemical? Something that light activates?”

“It has to be something chemical, a drug, to be this powerfully persuasive,” he gestured at Tina’s mother, bobbing at his lap. “I don’t think it’s light-activated, though. The optic nerves don’t have a direct connection to the parts of the brain that deal with learning or suggestibility.

“No, I think they take a natural instinct and exaggerate it. People just naturally do what a photographer tells them to—smile, move a little to the left, put your hand on your hip. There’s a natural reward mechanism too—people are flattered when the camera pays attention to them. This combination of compliance and reward make for a natural garden for suggestibility. Lingerie photographers—like the guys that do boudoir photography for housewives wanting to give their husbands a special gift—will vouch for this. Once a woman gets past her initial nervousness, her instinctive exhibitionism and suggestibility is unbelievable! They can’t GET them to stop stripping and flirting!

“The programming probably requires the flash as a trigger, sort of as the key to unlock the suggestibility, though I would have expected a more complex key to be required.” He gestured again at the mewling mother on his rod. “It wasn’t too hard for us to figure it out and exploit it.”

Robert sighed. “Who do you think is doing it?”

“I don’t know. The government? The ATF? A secret society? I don’t think it’s anyone local. I’m the smartest kid in this city—despite what Julie Preston will try to tell you—and I’m not smart enough to do this. I mean, I can figure out where they’re starting from, but how to go from there to these results—" He gestured a third time at Mrs Stotter’s rhythmic head and shook his.

“They’re going to come after us, aren’t they? They won’t like us abusing what they’ve set up.”

“They’ll come after us—all of us—for sure. Though if they’re this powerful,” Paul shrugged, “there’s not much we can do about it except enjoy it while it lasts.” He grinned. “And I’m not a VIRGIN anymore, Bobby Boy.”

“What do you think they’ll do to us? Blow up the town?”

“Hopefully not. That would put them in the multi-millions of dollars for munitions plus the awkward task of explaining what happened—whole towns don’t blow up every day. No, with the powers they have with the mind, I expect they’re much more likely to brain wipe us.”

“Brain wipe?”

“Yeah, erase our memories of the last few weeks, make us think that it’s been business as usual instead of sex city.”

“Any way to avoid that?”

“Funny you should ask. No, I don’t think we can avoid it. Whoever is behind this is far too powerful for us. But I may send my notes and observations and suspicions out on the net in a series of packets, time-delay them, let them bounce around on relatively prime cycles and schedule the LCM of those primes so the packets all re-meet at my MIT email account next winter. I’ll be able to factor the messages back together and read my notes. I may not believe them, especially if the people that do the brain wipe program into us some type of aversion to conspiracy theories when they do the clean up here. But ... if they slack on that point, and then I could do some more research on this ... maybe ... maybe exploit ... exploit it ....”

He gripped the stair step he was on. “Here comes number sixteen!” He clenched Mrs Stotter’s mouth caught his liquid artillery round.

“Ohgod your seed tastes god, Paul! I don’t WANT to share you with my daughter!”

Paul reached for his camera. Flash. “But think how hot it will make me to see you two tonguing each other.”

“Yeeaaahh ... you’re right.”

A Model Mother

Robert watched his mother as she cooked dinner.

She couldn’t have spread twice for Altus Shitbum—there was just no way.

She couldn’t be that easy.

“Bobby, hand me the colander, please.”

“Sure, Mom.” He retrieved it from where it hung on the cabinet door and handed it to her.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she smiled.

She drained the spaghetti from the boiling water, added it to the sauce that had been simmering all afternoon and, voila, Friday night delight.

Could ... could his mother be made into a Friday night delight too ... with just a few camera flashes?

He cast that horrible thought out of his mind immediately—there was just no way.

At one point during dinner, a small amount of tomato sauce dropped from his mother’s fork to her cleavage. “Oops,” she giggled and dabbed it off with her napkin.

Robert cast his eyes down from his mother’s breasts to his plate.

Just no way! Just ....

He glanced back up ... at her ... dabbing.

Eyes down!

Just no way!

After dinner he helped her carry the dishes to the sink and fidgeted while she washed them. His own mother wouldn’t ... she couldn’t ... not ....

He had to know. It was killing him. The idea of her ... and he KNEW it just COULDN’T be true.

He ran upstairs and brought the camera back down.

“Smile, Mom,” he called from behind her.

“I’m sorry, honey?” she looked over her shoulder.

Flash.

“Oh, sweetie, you shouldn’t be taking pictures of me. I’m not dressed for it.”

“But you like it, Mom. You like posing for the camera.”

She turned off the water and turned around to look at him. “I ... uhm ....”

He kept the camera held to his eye and she splashed a smile up on her face.

“That’s it, Mom.”

Flash.

“Now turn around and look at me over your shoulder.”

Jennifer Metcalfe rolled her eyes with a silly smile, then did as requested.

“Great!”

Flash.

“You take great pictures, Mom, and you love posing. Now give me a look of surprise.”

Giggling, she formed her lips into an “O” and brought her spread hands up by her face.

“Oh, you’re great!”

Flash.

“This is fun. Now give me a pout. C’mon, pout for me.”

Jennifer pursed her lips and frowned with her eyes.

Flash.

“This IS fun,” she giggled.

“Okay, turn around and give me that pout over your shoulder. Yeah, now shake your butt, Mom.”

Giggling, Jennifer wiggled her tushie.

Flash.

“Okay, Jennifer, turn around and lean toward the camera.”

His mother turned around and stopped. “Honey, don’t call me by my first name. It’s a sign of respect to—”

Time for truth.

Flash.

“You’re Jenny, the fashion model, known for your lusty photos just oozing with sex.”

“I ... uh ....”

Flash.

“Lean forward, Jenny, and shake your chest to jiggle your boobs.”

The smile returned to her face as she did so.

Flash.

“You are so HOT, Mom!”

“Do you think so?” she asked teasingly as she traced her hand upward over her breasts.

Flash.

“Pop the top couple buttons on your blouse, Mom.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she sighed as the buttons found themselves undone.

Flash.

“Ooh, yeah, Mom!”

Flash. Flash.

“Now you’re a tiger, a sexual panther. C’mon, kitty, kitty, show me how ferocious you are.”

Giving a wide snarl, Jenny ripped her blouse open the rest of the way, sending buttons flying.

Flash.

“C’mon, kitty, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty.”

Jenny swiped the air with her fingers hooked into a claw, snarling again.

Flash.

“Where’s my sweet kitty, kitty? Hmm? Where’s her sweet purr?”

Jenny tempered her fake snarls into a pout, then began audibly purring.

Flash.

“Yeah, sweet kitty. Show me how you bathe.”

Jenny hooked one hand over, licked the back of her wrist, then raised her hand to softly swipe the side of her head twice, purring all the time.

Flash.

“Great! Okay, I got an idea. Trust me on this one, Mom.” He set the camera on the table and opened the refrigerator door. While he dug in the shelves, Jenny began wondering why in the world she was in the kitchen with her blouse open while her son took photographs.

Robert came out of the refrigerator with a jar of chocolate syrup for sundaes. He removed the top and stuck his index finger in, then stepped toward his mother.

“Honey, I don’t know if we should ....”

“You’re a ...,” he slowly traced his finger down her left cheek, leaving a smear of chocolate, “... dirty girl, Mom.” He handed her the jar. “You snuck into the chocolate syrup when you knew you weren’t supposed to.”

“Bobby, we shouldn’t be—" she started as he stepped back toward the camera.

Flash.

“Dip your finger into the jar, Mom.”

“But—”

Flash.

“Dip your finger ... then poke it in your mouth.”

“Like ... this ... ?” she gave a coy smile, then began sucking on her finger.

Flash. Flash.

“You naughty girl! Mom!”

Jenny got a mischievous smile, dipped her finger again, then stuck it in her mouth and closed her eyes and, “Mmmmmmm! MMMMM! ... OH! OhGOD!” she lightly faked a chocolate orgasm.

Flash. Flash.

She dipped her finger again, then traced a chocolate line down the front of her throat.

Flash. Flash.

“Yes! Mom!”

She looked down and giggled. “You LIKE this, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Mom! Smear some on your ... on your breasts.”

“On my breasts?” she gave a coy, silly smile. “I don’t KNOW if I should ....”

Flash.

“Yeah, smear some on your boobs!”

Smiling naughtily, she traced her finger on the inside of her left boob.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“Yeeeeaaahh!” he stepped toward her, holding the camera in his left hand and dipped his right forefinger in the jar. “Let ... let me ....”

“Bobby?!” she gasped in mock-chastisement, but puffed her chest out to give him easy access.

Slowly, holding his breath, Bobby traced his finger along the inside flesh of his mother’s right breast.

“Yeah,” she sighed quietly, suddenly serious. “That’s ... nice ... Bobby ....”

She started to lay her hand on her son’s chest, but he stepped back.

Flash.

“Yes, ma’am, the pastries look good and the powdered sugar creampuffs look just delectable, but what I’d really ... really like are some of those ... chocolate-covered titties.”

Jenny arched one eyebrow. “Would you now?”

Flash.

“Oh, yeah ....”

She dipped two hooked fingers into the jar, then dribbled syrup all over her breasts and bra. “We ALWAYS swirl the chocolate, sir ...,” she smiled, looking directly at him as she swirled the dribbling chocolate.

Bobby had no idea what that implied, but WOW!

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“Guess that means you approve, sir,” she smiled and tucked two chocolate smeared fingers into her bra cup and wiped them around her nipple in there.

Bobby stepped forward, dipping two fingers in the syrup, then smeared them around his mother’s navel.

“Gah!” she jumped back, giggling. “That tickles!”

Bobby dropped to his knees, grabbed her hips and held them still while he licked chocolate off her abdomen and out of her belly button. Over a few moments, Jenny calmed down and became more serious, then started running her hands through her son’s hair while he licked her.

“Bobby ... we’ve made a mess here.”

“Ungh-hungh,” he breathed, looking up at her.

“Let’s ... go ... take a bath,” she smiled softly, then stepped away. “And bring your camera. I LOVE posing for you!” She traipsed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bathroom.

Bobby guessed now that she probably HAD spread for Altus Chadburn, but his pecker could have cared less. This woman—his mother—was hot and mewling for sex!

He darted upstairs after her, causing a peal of giggles to erupt from her.

She dashed to her bedroom, spun around in the doorway and held up a forefinger, bringing her son to a halt there. “Ah-ah. You wait here. Mommy has to get her sexy nightie to put on afterward.”

While Bobby waited at the door, Jenny knelt and opened her bottom dresser drawer, pulling out a sheer nightie, then, on inspiration, reached in the back and pulled out another item. Holding it up to her mouth, she leered lewdly at her son. “Do you like this, Bobby?” Then she messily tongued the dildo she held.

“Mom?!” Flash. Flash. Flash. “You have a dildo?!”

“Silly boy (slurp) ... Don’t you read porn stories? (slobber-slurp) EVERY woman has MULTIPLE dildos that she pumps into herself whenEVER she’s alone!”

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“Mmmmm, you like mommy being dirty, don’t you?”

Flash. “Oh, yeah!”

Jenny stood, stuck her index finger to her lips to pose as she thought, then swayed her hips across the room to her closet, where she pulled out a pair of three-inch heels. Stepping back across the room, she set them beside the nightie, then looked to her son and twirled a ringlet of hair. “I’ll tell you—no garters, no hose, not even a pair of pasties! I don’t know WHY I don’t keep more FUCK COSTUMES around the house!” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “SOME things are going to have to CHANGE around here, mister!”

Flash.

Giggle. She grabbed her clothes and led her son to the bathroom.

While he stood in the doorway, she unzipped her skirt, then turned around, cocked out her ass and did a little dance with her bum as she slid her skirt off.

“Ohgod, these things are DRENCHED!” she complained in exasperation when she stood back up. Her panties were so wet they were almost transparent.

Flash.

“You like this, don’t you?” she asked her son. “Your mother so hot for a fucking that she could squeal?”

Flash.

“OH, yeah!”

She hooked her thumbs in her waistband, then pulled her panties to the floor and stood back up, holding them out, dangling from her fingers. And baring her bush.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“Hee-hee.” She held one hand to her head and cocked her hip out to the other side, posing for him.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“Here come your chocolate treats ...,” she smiled as she unsnapped her bra and let it drop.

“Here, Mom, let me.” He stepped to her, then began cleaning them with his tongue.

“Oooh ... what a ... goooood ... booooyyyy ...,” she sighed as he nibbled her nipple.

While she ran the bathwater, she got her son out of his pants and underwear, then traced her fingers lightly along the length of his erection. “Gosh,” she looked up at him solemnly, “It’s SO BIG I don’t know if the whole thing will FIT inside my MOUTH ... !” Then she smiled, teasing. “But we’ll find THAT out later.” She stood, then stepped in the tub and sat in the bathwater.

Flash. Flash.

“You TEASE!” he complained with a grin.

His mother just smiled smugly.

“You KNOW that you’re going to have the first of multiple orgasms right here in this tub.

“I suspected as much,” she smiled naughtily, stuck her middle finger in her mouth, then slowly moved it to between her legs and leaned back for her son to take more pictures of her.

At 5:00 A.M., Jenny woke and slid off her son’s cock before she dried there.

God, they had fucked all night like rabbits overdosed on spanish fly!

She knew she probably shouldn’t be doing this with her son, but ....

Bobby stirred and reached for the nightstand.

As a matter of fact ....

As a matter of fact ... WHAT in God’s name WAS she DOING?! She jerked the sheets up to cover her naked breasts. Her own SON! What in—

She looked aghast when Bobby rolled back over.

Flash.

“God, Mom, you look sexy sitting here naked in my bed. Show me your breasts again.”

“But ... we ....”

Flash.

“You melt when I stare at your naked body.”

“I ... OOOOH!” she sighed and shivered as she lowered the sheet from her breasts. “I DO, don’t I?”

Flash.

“You adore exposing your body to me.”

She giggled as she kicked the sheet down to expose her fur.

Flash.

“You want to screw all day long, every day for the rest of our lives.”

Jenny dragged her naked body upwards, rubbing along her son’s erection, then sank back and ... impaled herself with a sigh.

“Screw me, baby!” she gasped hoarsely.

Khaaaaaannnn

Lieutenant Schwartz hurled the briefing across the room, causing the unstapled papers to fly everywhere. “This ... is a goddam ... CLUSTERFUCK, Howie!”

General Howard Ulrich had a sinking feeling in his stomach, but maintained his posture of attention. He sure hoped Lieutenant Schwartz wouldn’t have him bend over for the men again ....

Captain Rita Moriarty came off Lieutenant Schwartz’s hard-on, a string of spittle still connecting her lips to his cock. She looked a little dazed, her auburn hair mussed, her lips painted dark fuck-me red, the way Schwartz liked.

“Did I tell you to stop, bitch?” He pushed her head back down to impale her mouth again.

He looked at the general. “What about the motherfucking safety protocols, Howie?! Did you forget about those?! Hmmmm?!”

“Uh, sir,” the general kept his eyes cast down, “you ordered us to, uhm—”

“Yeah, shut yer yap. I know what I fucking ordered you.” He jabbed his forefinger and started to stand, but then lurched. “The teeth! Watch the teeth, bitch!”

“I’b bobby, bir,” she mumbled past the rod in her mouth.

“Off. Off.” The pretty captain came off his cock again and Lieutenant Jeffrey Schwartz stood, pulling the captain up, and bent her over the table. He fingered her crotch from behind to make sure her slit was slicked, then rammed her red-furried cunt with cock, causing her to squeal in delight and claw at the table with her fingernails.

Then he continued to jab his finger at the general while his captain mewled in time to his humps. “Know THIS, Howie! You’re going DOWN for this!”

General Ulrich sighed. He had always known Schwartz would send him down as a patsy. This would mean even a general’s career, most likely a stay at Leavenworth as well. Unless he could ....

But Schwartz was already pointing the penlight-sized device that Sefarti had created for him and hitting the trigger.

Flash.

“Think of it, General. Going down in honor and glory.”

Honor and glory. A faint smile crossed the general’s lips while Captain Moriarty ground her ass back against Schartz’s pelvis like an animal rutting.

Flash. “You’ll tell them it was all you and your perverted lusts.”

Flash. “You’ll be the guy that took the fall for his superior and saved everything that is right and good. How proud you’ll be!”

Flash. “You don’t even KNOW a Lieutenant Schwartz.”

The general crisped to attention and gave a sharp salute. “I will make things right for you!” he bellowed. “Sir!”

Schwartz grunted as he squirted into the red-headed captain and she wailed as she came at the thought of her insides being beautifully stained with Schwartz’s pearly jism.

A tired Schwartz patted the general’s chest. “Good man, Howie. Good man,” he said as Captain Moriarty laid underneath him, wondering if he’d given her a kid. She was SCHWARTZ’S bitch now, she smiled with her eyes closed dreamily. His bitch ... with a belly stuffed full of his sperm ....

After a minute of laying on her, Schwartz pulled out of the redhead and slapped her on the heinie. “Get dressed, Captain Whore. We have to get that Hungarian genius Sefarti and get out of here.”

Then he gave his best practiced malevolent laugh, “Mmmmruuuuuhhaaaaa-haaa-haaa-haaaaa ... !”

They both pulled on their clothes while the general stood at attention.

“Oh, yeah, and General,” Schwartz remembered as he was walking out with the redhaired pussy, “Go bend over for the men like a man, won’t you?”

“Goddammit!” Ulrich muttered, but then gritted his teeth, stepped outside, called the men together and dropped his pants.

The things a hero has to endure ....

“SumBITCH!” General Burnett smacked his palm on the table. “Why aren’t we after those motherfuckers?!”

“They have a two day head start on us, sir,” Major Peterson stood at attention. “And these two guys are good. This Sefarti is some kind of mind-programming genius. And Lieutenant Schwarz knows every beat-the-system trick in the book. He’s refused two promotions and three commendations just to keep the lime-light off himself, sir.”

“Can your people at least,” the general waved his hand angrily, “follow this guy Sefarti’s notes? Undo what’s been done to these people?”

“My men are working on recovering the hard drive now, sir, but it looks like it’s been wiped. I do believe we have a course of action, though. Agent Benjamin at the CIA Mind Control Laboratories has recommended the use of a Serum 54 that they have developed. It’s a methylated hydrochloride of—”

“What’s it DO, Major?”

“It ‘brain wipes’ the subjects, sir. Depending on the dosage, it can remove up to the last three months of their memory. Although ....”

Burnett looked up. “There’s an ‘although’?”

“We don’t know how deep Sefarti’s programming of their minds goes. The drug may not remove the programming. They may still be ... camera whores ... for the rest of their lives.”

“Ferchrissake,” Burnett rolled his eyes. “So we brain wipe the whole town. What about visiting relatives? College kids that have gone back to school? Anybody that was here just long enough to get programmed and then left?!”

“I recommend a nation-wide television advertising campaign, sir.”

“Commercials, Major?”

“A photographer looks at the camera and tells you to smile. The flash flashes. We tell them to call the number on the bottom of the screen. Then we brain wipe those that do.”

“And the curious school kids that call? The college students that call on a dare? The dumb idiots that just do every damn thing that they’re told? What about them?!”

Peterson shrugged. “Casualties, sir. It’s really ... the only way to clean up this mess.”

Burnett looked off to the side and spat. “What a mess it is. Rusty Ulrich is out there with his ass bleeding, trying to take credit for all of this. I went to the ACADEMY with that man, Major! He’s not CAPABLE of atrocities like these!”

“It gets worse, sir.”

Burnett’s eyes flicked back to Peterson.

“It appears that the evil duo took Captain Moriarty with them.”

“Rusty’s DAUGHTER?!” Burnett bellowed. “Those bastards!” He breathed for a moment to calm himself. “Has her husband been told, Peterson?”

“He’s sobbing in the next room as we speak, sir.” He cast his eyes down. “There’s one more item, sir.”

“How could it get worse than this?”

“Lieutenant Cornell is also missing, sir.”

“MY daughter?!” Burnett jumped to his feet and raged.

“One of the sergeants saw a pretty little blonde officer bubbling and giggling as she headed for the chopper with the two men and the redhead. Then she ... uhm ... french kissed the redhead at Schwartz’s command. Ehr ... the sergeant described it as ‘a whole lotta tonguing’.”

“SCHWAAAAAAARRRRRRRRTZ!” Burnett raged as he leaned back and shook his fist at heaven. “I will GET you!” he vowed.

Well, that’s it, bud. We got our weener waxed. And shined. And—well, you get the picture.

That’s my—our—story. Though you don’t remember it anymore.

They apparently haven’t killed you—us? me?—if you’re reading this. I don’t know if they successfully removed the programming, or if they just made us forget all about it.

You probably don’t believe a word of this, will probably believe that it’s Paul pulling some stupid joke on you.

But don’t say anything to Paul. If word gets to them that you somehow are remembering things, they’ll just come back and brain wipe you again.

Whoever ‘they’ are.

And I’m not writing you so you can go noble on me and be stupid and try to stop some huge unstoppable government agency of evil. Remember: you record over a cassette tape too many times and you get a hissing and popping noise in the background. Same thing is true of brain wipes, I’m sure.

No, I’m writing you because Mom is hot. Gloria Reilly may have let us pet her boob last year, but Mom is a fucking vixen in bed! I’m STILL trembling from where she sucked the juice out of our pecker! And when her pussy drools on our nest of pubic hair while she rides us like a cowgirl on one of those mechanical bull machines, well ....

Like I said, I don’t know if you believe any of this, I don’t know if they removed the programming from her.

But find out.

You owe it to yourself.

You owe it to us.

Jennifer Metcalfe was sitting on the sofa, grading papers a novel when Bobby came downstairs.

“Hey, Mom. Smile!”

Flash.