The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dickie Grayson had been fat since he could remember—not enormously so, but he had just always found video games more exciting than standing around sweating with his hand stuffed into a glove, waiting to get hit by a baseball that strayed into left field.

He had been an embarrassment to his parents, well-kept good-looking people each. When he was twelve, his dad had tried taking him with him jogging, which was just cruel. His only weapon to defend against perversity like that was “the voice”—to complain in his most annoying screech-whine until his dad snapped back at him, “All right! Stay here and GET FAT, then!”

Exactly what Dickie wanted. The “stay there” part, anyway; and he didn’t see the “get fat” part as too large a price to pay.

When he graduated high school, the video games were even fancier and better than ever, and work was as miserable as sports. He knew his parents were going to throw him out of the house one of these days, probably right after they made him get a job, but as long as he could hold them off with his screech-honed voice and his sullen demeanor, he was going to.

“Hey, Mom,” he mumbled as he shambled into the kitchen for breakfast.

She was sitting at the table, but there was no plate being kept warm by the stove. There wasn’t even a fry pan in the sink from where she had fixed eggs! “Oh, maaaaaaan! Didn’t you fix breakfast?!” he turned to her.

She was just sitting there in the chair at the table, staring off into space. Looking goofy. Like she was stunned or something.

“I said, ‘Didn’t you fix breeeeeeaaakfast?!’”

She just continued sitting there, staring off.

He walked up to her. “What’s wrooong with you?”

No response.

“Mom?” He lightly shoved her shoulder. “Mama?”

She shook as he pushed her, then just settled back into staring off. Her breathing seemed to be fine. Had she turned into some type of freaking goof? Had she fried her—

Wait a minute ....

Last night she and Dad had gone out with the Evansons to see some hypnotist’s show or something.

Maybe ... she had ...

Dickie swallowed.

Maybe she had volunteered. And this guy had ... hypnotized her. And she had just now ... slipped back into a trance.

Suddenly, she didn’t look so goofy, sitting there all stunned. She looked ... hot.

His Mom was only 35 (yeah, he had done the math—shut up about it), and was incredibly well-kept. He knew she dyed her hair red, and once, after three days of pestering with “the voice”—she had relented and told him that she was naturally a dishwater blonde, whatever that was. He like her better red.

She was ... one hot babe! Especially sitting here all vulnerable in a trance and everything!

Maybe ... maybe this hypnotist guy had thought so too, and given her a post-hypnotic command to come back to his dressing room after the show. Maybe ... she had been sitting here this morning, remembering how good it felt to be bent over and stuffed full of hypnotist’s cock and just ... craved it so much she slipped back into the trance.

“Mom?” he checked one more time to make sure it was safe, “You BITCH.” That should bring her out of it if she was faking.

Nothing.

He knelt beside her and ... cupped those tits with his hands.

God!

Squeeze.

Nothing from her—just dull, staring accession to his feeling her up.

Oh, MAN! Yeah!

He untucked her blouse from her shorts, then reached up between her chest and the blouse to squeeze those bra-covered honeys!

She blinked.

Yeah! This was getting GOOD to her TOO! Feelin’ the rush of getting her JUGS-

“Dickie?!” her face bunched up, aghast.

Then her palm clipped him across the cheek.

Dickie disentangled his forearms from her blouse, stood and backed up a couple steps. Shit.

“GOD?! What the HELL are you DOING?!”

“Nuthin’.”

She stood up out of the chair and took a couple steps back from the boy. Then her mouth grimmed, and she hauled off and slapped him again. “You keep your hands OFF me, you little monster!”

“But Moooooom! You were just sitting here, staring off into space! I was trying to resuscitate you or somethin’!”

She jabbed her finger at him. “Don’t you lie to me, Dickie!”

“Jeeeeez, I’m not lyin’! You were like a zombie or something.”

“I can’t BELIEVE you DID that! Dickie!”

“Well ... how’d I get my hands up your blouse without you stoppin’ me, if you WEREN’T in a trance? Hmm?”

“Go. To. Your. Room. Now,” she commanded him, voice clipped with indignation. “I am going to tell your father when he gets home, and ... and it’s time you got a job, Dickie. It’s time you got a job and moved out of this house.”

“Maaaaaaaama,” he grumbled.

“No. I have put up with you for eighteen and a half years. I don’t have to do it anymore. You’re moving out of here, young man.”

With a sigh, Dickie turned and left the kitchen. Bitch. He suspected that even “the voice” wasn’t going to get him out of this one.

Dickie Grayson was laying back on him bed, musing. Yeah, he was probably going to have to get his own place after this morning, but there were bigger things at stake here.

The bitch HAD been in a trance. She had been sitting there, staring off into space, wide open to suggestions.

And if Mrs Evanson had volunteered too, maybe SHE was slipping back into trances, as well. And she was just as hot as his mother!

Maybe ... maybe he would even have them do a little girl-on-girl action with each other for him if he got the chance!

His stomach rumbled. Time for his mid-morning snack.

Hey! That’s right! He had missed breakfast because Mom had been such a bitch after she had caught him with his hands up her shirt. And then he had been too distracted thinking about the possibilities to remember to eat.

God, what was WRONG with him?! He really WAS famished! He got up and headed upstairs to the kitchen.

His Mom was there, washing the china in the sink. She was doing the “fall cleaning” thing—which meant she kept bugging him too with cleaning chores.

“I didn’t tell you you could come out, Dickie,” she informed him over her shoulder.

“Sorry, Mom,” he opened the fridge, “Geneva convention and all. Starvation’s cruel and unusual. Ya gotta let the prisoners eat.” He began shifting food items out and onto the counter, then got a plate and began loading up for his snack.

“I promise you, Dickie,” she said as she went back to washing china, “you won’t be a ‘prisoner’ in this house much longer.”

It wasn’t time for “the voice” yet. Let her get her bitching out of her system, then he’d start an aurally sculpted campaign of whining until she couldn’t take the tone anymore and broke down and let him stay.

He carried his plate to the table, leaving the containers of leftovers on the counter, then began working the food into his mouth and down his esophagus, not unlike trying to wedge a couple t-shirts and bath towels through a gym-sock, into his waiting gut.

“Do you feel any shame at all for what you did this morning?” his mother interrupted him out of the blue when he was three-fourths done.

Dickie rolled his eyes, his mouth full: bitch.

He set the rest of his hoagie down, but it took several seconds for the food in his mouth and gullet to journey the rest of the way to his gut and clear the speaking-tube for speaking, so to, ehr ... speak.

“You are so UNFAIR to me!” he gasped when the final swallow cleared. “I was TRYING to SAVE YOUR LIFE! You were just sitting here, staring out into space! I thought you’d had a stroke or something! And I was trying to bring you out of it, and was going to call an ambulance if that didn’t do it!”

He grabbed his soda and gulped down a half-pint to lube everything up in the belly.

“You’ve ALWAYS been unfair to me,” he gasped when that was done going down. “You and Dad have ALWAYS treated me like I should be just like you. But I’m NOT! I’m my own person! And I don’t WANT to have to do fall cleaning, or jog five miles everyday, or go to work eight-to-five. I want to be my own person!” So there.

He looked at her to see how she was taking this. He’d planned on letting her vent a little more before he started in on her with “the voice”, but she’d just pissed him off with that “aren’t you ashamed” crap.

She was standing there at the sink, looking out the window.

Water running, hands not moving.

“Mom?”

Nothing.

Ohgod! Ohgod! “Bitch?”

Nothing.

Goddam YES! Dickie left the rest of his hoagie and hopped up, scurried over to the entranced woman, and turned off the water. He opened his mouth, then shivered. God! He was ready to piss his pants with excitement here! He took a deep breath, then tried to continue without a quivering voice.

“Here—here are some post-hypnotic commands for you.

“You want—” he swallowed, “you want to show your breasts to Dickie. You want to find some way to show them to him so bad that you don’t know what to do.”

He fidgeted with excitement. Don’t forget to set up the future, he told himself—wish for a million wishes, and all that. “And—and anytime I say ‘milkshake’, you’ll slip back into this trance and be totally open and receptive to everything I say!

“And—and you’ll just be my all-around sex slave! Anything Dickie wants, you’ll let him do! Got that?”

He swallowed. Did that have everything?

Oh, yeah. “And you’ll tell him the truth. You’ll always answer truthfully every question he asks you. You’ll be completely truthful. Got that?” Good safety net, that one—he could always ask her if she was plotting to escape his clutches or anything.

She blinked. If this was like last time, that probably meant she was coming out of—

“Why did you turn the water off, Dickie?” she scowled at him standing beside her. “I was busy washing the china.”

“No, you weren’t. You were staring off into space again. Just like this morning. And I was trying to make sure you were okay again.” He let his tone turn sarcastic, “And you’ll notice that this time I didn’t accidentally brush your breasts while I was trying to revive you.”

“My, uhm ...,” she looked down at them, “my breasts?”

“Yeah,” he smiled with a little resentment. “See? Untouched.”

She looked down at them again, then distractedly reached back toward the china and turned the water back on.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Dickie taunted her.

“I’m trying to think of some excuse to show you my breasts.” Then her eyes widened, and she jerked her gaze toward him. “I mean—uhm—”

YES! There WAS a god for fat people! And He was a kindly god!

“I mean, I shouldn’t think such thoughts! But I’m ... trying to find some pretext to, uhm ... uncover them for you.”

“Aww, that’s okay, Mom. I’m okay with it,” he raised both hands to tit-height, took a step toward her and rested each boob in a palm.

Her palm whacking against his cheek was unexpected and rattled him a little.

“Hey!” he scowled at her. “What’s the matter with you?!”

“For Chrissakes, Dickie! You don’t touch your mother that way!”

“You’re supposed to be my sex slave!”

Her palm crossed his cheek yet another time. “Go to you room! You little—!”

Okay, something had gone wrong. Time to fix it. “Milkshake.”

“No! You’ve already stuffed your face. No more food. Go to your room! Right now, young man!”

“But—” But—“But—milkshake!”

She jabbed her finger toward the basement in case the boy had forgotten the layout of the house. “To your room! Now!”

He just stared at her. What had happened? Part of it seemed to have taken, at least for a few moments. But now, she was like some kind of screeching harpy. What was—

“Dickie! Go! To! Your! Room! Now! You! Are! Being! Punished!”

“What is WRONG with you, bitch?!”

She slapped him again.

Glaring at her, he headed to his room.

There was a knock on the door of Dickie’s bedroom, then it opened, and his mother’s face poked in. “Dickie, I need to dust in here. For the fall cleaning.”

Bitch! First she screamed at him and sent him to his room; then she wanted to just barge in and dust. “Well, I don’t want you to.”

Her mouth drew to a line, and she cocked her head. “Well ... it’s not your house, mister.” She stepped in.

Dickie’s eyes widened hugely.

She was still wearing her levi shorts, socks and tennis shoes. She still had that gorgeous red hair pulled back with a hair clip as she cleaned. But, instead of her blouse ... she was wearing some type of sheer lingerie cover.

With no bra on.

Her—! Her—!

“M-Mom?!”

She turned to face him, feather duster in hand, and drew her shoulders back.

Her NIPPLES COULD BE SEEN through the sheer material!

“Yes?”

“Mom?! Your—your—blouse?! What happened?!”

She stood there, breasts unashamedly exposed through the lingerie. “I was trying to think of some way, some excuse, to show you my breasts. And I changed into this. I was going to tell you that I spilled water on the blouse and bra, and I didn’t have anything else to change into than this teddy cover. I just—I don’t know. I wanted to show them to you.” She swallowed hard. “And I have no idea why I’m telling this to you.”

“They’re GREAT, Mom!” He stood up and stepped toward her. She continued standing there with them on display.

“Well ... thank you. I’m still angry at you for the way you’ve been behaving today.”

Dickie was moving around them, viewing them from every angle, and this caused her nipples to perk up just a little.

“They’re WONDERFUL!”

“Thank you, Dickie.”

“Can I touch them?”

“No! OF COURSE you can’t touch them!”

“Why nooooot?!”

“Because that would be inappropriate! You KNOW that, Dickie! Why are you acting like this today?!”

“But isn’t it just as inappropriate to SHOW THEM to me? Hmm?”

“I, uhm ...,” she fidgeted, but didn’t move to cover them. “Yes.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“I ... don’t have an answer for that, Dickie.” Still on display.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you show them to me. And you let me squeeze them just a couple times.” The hands came up in anticipation.

“No! Certainly not!”

“Milkshake.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘milkshake’?”

“Milkshake, milkshake, milkshake.”

She sighed and tapped her foot. Breasts still exposed.

“Nothing?”

“I have no idea what gets into you sometimes, Dickie,” Candace Grayson shook her head, her breasts still open for viewing by her son through the sheer lingerie top.

“I think you’d better pull on a bra and shirt.”

Candace Grayson was in her son Dickie’s room, with nothing at all on above the waist, posing around the room under the pretext of doing fall cleaning.

She had dusted his room earlier this morning in just a lingerie top, then had asked him if he wanted to have lunch with her. While she had been fixing her sandwich, she casually swiped the knife with mayonnaise on it over one nipple. “Oh, my. Look at what I’ve done now.”

Dickie had looked. He had practically drooled. “Do it again! Do it again!”

“What?” She had raised one eyebrow. “This?” She had swiped the mayonnaise off the other side of the knife and around the erect nipple.

Normally she didn’t encourage her son like this, lazy, pudgy little perv that he had turned out to be. But today she was just SOOOO enjoying keeping his eyes on her breasts.

“Let me,” he had stood and stepped toward her, “let me spread the mayonnaise around on your breast—pleeeeeease?”

“No!” she scowled and raised her hands to block him. “No! Now you behave, or you can go back to your room.”

He dropped his hands, glaring at her. “Okay, Mother ... why DID you just smear mayonnaise around on your tit, then, if you—”

“Dickie, you WILL NOT speak of my ‘tits’! Is that understood, young man? You will not be disrespectful of me, and you will not use profanity in front of me!”

“Why DID you just smear mayonnaise on your ... ‘breast’ ... Mother?”

“I wanted to dirty the lingerie top so I’d have an excuse to take it off and show you my breasts. With nothing at all covering them.”

Dickie was grinning from ear to ear.

“I mean—I—Why am I telling you these things?”

“What? Are all your secret plans being let out of the bag?”

“I ... just ....”

“Well, go ahead and take it off and show them to me.”

“What?” she looked at him, unsure.

“Okay,” he sighed with a smirk, “we can do it your way. Gosh, Mother! You have mayonnaise all over your top. Maybe you’d better take it off.” Confirming nod. “Before you get all sticky, or your skin gets irritated.”

She stared at him several seconds, then chewed her lip a few moments, then opened and removed the teddy cover.

“Ohhhh! Those are NICE!” It was true. His mother was a babe.

“Th-thank you, Dickie,” she said, subconsciously puffing her chest out for him.

“Are you sure I can’t ... just ...,” he had reached toward one of them.

“No!” she slapped the hand away.

Then they had gone back to Dickie’s room, where she had enjoyed cleaning with nothing on above the waist the rest of the afternoon while Dickie had enjoyed watching.

“I think you’d better pull on a bra and shirt,” Dickie repeated. “Dad’s going to get home in a little while, and if he finds us together with you running around topless, he’s going to beat the shit out of me.”

Candace opened her mouth to chastise him for the profanity, but he was right. If Stephen caught her showing her breasts off to Dickie, he would not understand at all.

“Or you could leave the bra off, and that way you could flash me all night.”

There was definitely something wrong with that idea, but ...

Damn, it sounded exciting!

She dressed for her husband, then started reheating the meatloaf. Stephen got home a little while later, kissed her, and headed back to the bedroom to change clothes.

“Hey, Mom. Flash me.”

Candace looked at her son and shook her head, no. Stephen could be back out any moment, and something like that would ... not be explainable.

Chuckling at her nervousness, Dickie walked up stand in front of her. “Then just pull your blouse out in the front so I can look down it.”

Candace gnawed her lip a couple seconds, then ... pulled her neckline open for him to look down.

Dickie ogled, then looked back up with a smug grin—she HAD left off the bra for him!

“That’s enough,” she whispered nervously and let her neckline fall back in place. “Your father will be back out any moment.”

“Nah. We’re just having meatloaf. Reheated meatloaf at that. He’ll take his good time.”

“Dickie, that was just mean.”

“Well, I don’t see him rushing back out here. Do you?”

Stephen WAS taking a long time changing clothes, and a couple minutes later, Candace wandered back to see if he was okay.

He was standing at the closet, just looking inside when she walked in. “Stephen? What’s taking so long?”

He just stood there, continuing to stare in the closet.

“Stephen?”

No response.

“Stephen? Are you okay?” she stepped to him and shook his shoulder.

Nothing.

“Stephen?!”

“Come on, you guys! Let’s EAT!” Dickie came up the hall complaining.

“Dickie! Something’s wrong with your father!”

Crap! Dickie hoped this didn’t interfere with dinner! He stepped into their bedroom.

“He’s not—he’s just standing here, not answering me!”

“Oh, cool!” Dickie stepped up to him. “Dad?” He gave him a little shove. “You with us, Dad?”

“Dickie, don’t hurt him. What’s wrong with him?”

“Nuthin’ that we can’t fix!” Dickie nodded his head, then turned back to his father. “Dad, no matter how angry you get, you won’t try to hurt your son, understand?”

“Dickie ... what are you doing?” Candace asked him.

“And whenever Dickie asks you a question, you will answer with the whole, complete truth!”

“What are you doing, Dickie?”

“And—” God, Dickie was starting to brim with excitement about the possibilities here! “—and you don’t mind if your wife and son fool around with teach other! In fact, it turns you on! It turns you on if they get naked with each other, or touch each other or do things with each other!”

“Dickie!”

“It turns you ON!” Dickie continued, ignoring his mother. “You WANT it to happen! Encourage it whenever you get the chance.”

Her hand clipped Dickie’s cheek again. “Dickie! Stop that! What is WRONG with him?!”

Stephen’s eyes blinked, and he started moving again as she asked that.

“Stephen! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, fine. Never better. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were ... just standing here.”

“Yeah, I was changing clothes.”

“No, you weren’t moving. You were just standing there, in front of the closet. Like you were stunned or something.”

“I—” Stephen swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, “I what?”

“You were just ... standing in front of the—”

“How long was I like that?! Did either of you say anything to me?!”

“What—what is going—”

“Candace, answer me! Did either of you say anything to me while I was like that?!”

“Dickie said a few things.” They were too embarrassing to repeat.

“What did he say?!” He turned to Dickie, then halted, getting his anger and anxiety under control. “What did you say to me, Dickie?”

“Awwww ... nuthin’ important,” Dickie shook his head, a little smug grin on it, “Why you so worried about it anyway?”

“Because Paula and Angie, a couple of the girls at the office, did the same thing today, and Dave and I had seen the hypnotist’s show last night, and we gave them some suggestions, and they did everything we told them to.” He looked guiltily toward his wife.

“Gee, Dad ... what sort of suggestions would you give two office girls? Hmm?”

“To strip down to their underwear when they came into either of our offices, and to give us blowjobs when we asked for them,” he blurted, then his eyes widened, and he grimaced and shrugged to Candace’s glare.

“Oh, that’s cool, Dad! How many times did you get blown?”

“Four,” his mouth betrayed him.

Candace’s slap clipped HIS cheek this time. “You ... BASTARD!”

“Candace, I—I don’t know how—I mean, I don’t know what—came over us.”

“That’s okay, Dad. You’ll never believe what Mom showed ME all afternoon!” Dickie was rather enjoying this.

“Dickie, leave the room,” his mother snapped at him. “Your father and I have things to discuss before—”

“She was showin’ me her tits all afternoon!”

“You ... WHAT?!” Stephen eyes grew wide at his wife.

“Dickie!” Candace snapped at him, “Language! And leave the room right now, or I will spank you, old as you are!” Then to her husband, “I did no such thing, Stephen. You, however, were ... getting—with a SECRETARY—God! I can’t BELIEVE you would DO that, Stephen!”

“Hey, Mom, what were you wearing when you knocked on my door and asked to come in to dust?”

“I was wearing that sheer green cover from the teddy I got for our anniversary two years ago. Now leave, Dickie.”

“And what did you do at lunch, Mom?”

“I pretended to accidentally get food on the teddy cover so I’d have an excuse to take it off and walk around topless in front of you all afternoon,” her mouth betrayed her again.

“Hey, Mom, do you want to show me your breasts now?”

“So bad I can hardly stand it, Dickie.”

All three were silent several uncomfortable seconds.

“Do it,” Stephen whispered at last.

“What?!”

“Do it. Show them to him. Show Dickie your naked breasts! I WANT you to! It’s OKAY! I don’t mind!”

“Go to HELL!”

“C’mon, Mom, show me your titties!”

“Language, young man!” she jabbed a finger toward him.

“Dad’s using it!”

“Your father,” she turned back to stare Stephen down as she said this, “is a shit.”

“C’mon, Mom, you know you want to show them to me. Remember how much fun you had running around this afternoon?”

Dickie, Candace and Stephen were sitting around the dinner table, the meatloaf nearly gone as Dickie consumed it while his parents glared at each other.

After a minute of silence, Dickie tried again, “C’mon, Mom. Show me. You can hardly stand NOT showing me.”

“No.” She did look at her son, though. “Dickie, this morning ... I was like your father, wasn’t I? In a trance?”

“Twice!” Dickie grinned and nodded.

“You .,. hypnotized your own MOTHER, Dickie?!”

“Naw,” he shrugged, “the hypnotist hypnotized you; I just took advantage of it.”

She turned her head to look at her husband. “But ... we didn’t volunteer last night ...”

“Show him,” Stephen urged. “Take it off and show them to him.”

“Shut up, pig.” She turned back to her son. “Dickie ... what all did you tell me to do this morning?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he sing-songed.

“Dickie, tell me.”

“Milkshake.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Does it make me do something?” She turned her head toward her husband. “Am I doing something when he says that?”

“I know what I WISH you would do.”

Candace shook her head, disgusted. “Is that all it took, Stephen? Him just giving you one little suggestion? Now you ... get off on ... thinking about me baring my breasts for Dickie?”

“Don’t you?”

“That’s beside the point. You want to see me just ... take this blouse off and show him my breasts?” She studied her husband, could see his erection straining at his pants. “You want to see me ... go up and let him feel them? Where does it stop, Stephen? Are you going to get off if I give him oral sex? What if I spread my legs for him? Does THAT get you HARD?!”

Stephen was slowly nodding, breathing deeply. “Do it,” he whispered. “Yes. Do it. All of it. Please.”

She turned to see Dickie, whose tongue was also hanging out his mouth.

“Never going to happen,” she declared, and stood. “Nothing like that is ever going to happen.”

She began carrying the dishes from the table to the sink to wash them.

It didn’t look like anything interesting was imminent, so Dickie got bored and left.

Stephen just sat at the table a few minutes, then went to get a pop from the fridge.

“You need to shut that before you let all the cold air out, Stephen,” Candace sighed as she finished the last of the dishes. You’d think the man was watching a TV in the refrigerator, he had spent so long staring in it.

“Did you hear me, Stephen?” she asked as she hung up the dish towels. “Stephen?”

Could ... it be? She walked up and shook his shoulder. “Stephen?”

Stunned, staring off at nothing.

Candace’s eyes narrowed. “So ... you hypnotized those two office girls into fellating you, you sonofabitch? That is—! You are such a—!”

She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Okay, Stephen, from now on, you cannot get hard, no matter how much you try, until I tell you, ‘get all hard, Stephen.’ What do you think of that, you little asshole? And as soon as I say, ‘get all soft, Stephen,’ all the blood will drain out of your damned little penis and refuse to return until I command it to. Got that? Asshole?”

“Hey Mom, what did you do with—” Dickie came loudly into the kitchen.

“Dickie, go to your room. Now!”

“What?”

“To your room! Now, young man!”

“Dad?” he called loudly.

“Dickie! I told you to leave!”

“Hey, you’re reprogramming Dad! Cool! What did you tell him to do? Show his little weener to the neighbors?”

With a moment of great will, she managed to not tell her son. “None of your business! Now return to your room right now!”

Dickie stared right at his mother as he called, “Hey, Dad! Whenever you find Mom in a trance, the first thing you’ll do is come get me! Got that?”

Candace slapped the boy across the cheek again, then glared at him.

He gave back a mean grin. “Just you wait.” He smiled as he wandered back toward the basement. “Dad’s going to come get me. And then you won’t ever slap me again. You’ll beg me to touch you, but you won’t ever slap me again. So just you wait.”

“What ... is ...,” Stephen started blinking again. He shut the refrigerator door, but knew from how cold his face was that he had been standing there a while—a longer while than he remembered.

“I ... did it again, didn’t I? I slipped into a trance again, didn’t I?”

Candace just glared at him.

“What did you tell me to do? Hungh?! What did you tell me to do, Candace?!”

She subtly shook her head and walked off.

“What did you DO to me?! What did you do?!”

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Candace walked into Dickie’s room at about 10:00 in a sheer-topped nightgown, sat on his bed, reached up behind her neck and undid the upper part of the lingerie, then lowered it to expose her breasts. “Look at them. You can’t touch them, but just ... look at them for me.”

“Couldn’t take it anymore, could you?”

“No,” she sighed, breathing a little easier now that they were free for him to look upon. GOD, this felt good. But, “What ... else ... did you tell me to do, Dickie?”

“Hmm, why don’t you tell me what you told Dad to do?”

It was easier to resist blurting this time.

“I ... can’t, Dickie. It wasn’t very nice, but I was angry about—God, how could he order those two girls to fellate him?! Doesn’t our marriage mean ANYTHING to him anymore?!”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so, Mom. Not anymore. As a matter of fact, I think nowadays he gets off on you betraying him. Especially to his son.”

“That wasn’t funny, Dickie. We’re going to have to fix that the next time he relapses into a trance.”

“You know what WAS funny, though? Why you didn’t already fix him when he was freezing his face off in the fridge. Musta had one hell of a revenge plan going there, Mom.”

“We ... need to stop this, Dickie. I shouldn’t be sitting here with you like this. You shouldn’t have made him like things like that. And I shouldn’t have ...”

“Shouldn’t have what, Mom? What did you make Dad do?”

“Just something to keep him from abusing those office girls anymore.”

“Hey, Dad! Come here!” Dickie brayed.

“Don’t do that, Dickie. Or I’ll leave.”

“You won’t leave. You can’t stand NOT exposing your breasts to me.”

“What is it, Dickie?” Stephen sighed as he came down the steps.

“Lookit! Mom’s showing off her tits for me!”

“She—oh—God! Yes, Candace!”

“Stephen, you get out of here right now. You’re not really turned on right now, it’s just the suggestion that Dickie gave to you.”

“Welllll,” he moved around to get a good view of the display, “it’s an awful good suggestion! Because ... damn, you look hot doing that, woman!”

“You don’t think I’d let you watch, anyway, do you? Not after you fooled around with those two office girls today. Get the HELL out of here!”

“Mom,” Dickie told her, “he stays. If he goes, I’m not going to look at you.”

“Diiiickiiie!”

“No, he stays.”

“You oughtta let him feel them,” Stephen suggested.

“Yeah, you ought to let me feel them,” Dickie agreed.

“No,” Candace held her hand up, “we are not going there. And,” she turned to her husband, “get all soft, Stephen.”

The tenting in his pants collapsed.

“What—?! What did you DO to me?!”

“Try to shtoop one of those office girls now, why don’t you?” she smirked.

“You ... evil ... bitch!”

“Aw, quit your whining, Dad. Just sit back and enjoy her showing them off for me.”

Grumbling, Stephen sat and watched his wife show tit to Dickie. He guessed he was still feeling pretty excited about it, even without an erection in his pants.

Candace was a bit insulted at the treatment she was getting, but Dickie was right—at the moment, she couldn’t stand to NOT be showing her breasts off to him for long.

The family sat there about an hour, enjoying Candace’s display for her son. Then Candace and Stephen headed upstairs to bed, and Dickie turned out the lights as well.

“Dickie,” came a loud whisper in the dark.

“Mmmrrngh?”

“Dickie, hurry!” came the whisper again.

“Whuh?”

“I found your mother in a trance again, and I wanted to come tell you.”

Dickie’s eyes came open, his excitement clearing the sleep out of his head.

“Come on.”

Dickie followed.

“I heard her go to the bathroom, but I never heard her come back. I went to check on her and found her sitting on the toilet, staring off into space.”

“Cool.”

The two men went into the master bathroom and, sure enough, there was Candace, squatted on the toilet, staring dully out into space again.

Two suggestions had failed last time, but Dickie decided to try them again, in case they might take this time. “Mom, anytime I say ‘caramel’, you’ll re-enter a trance. Got that?”

“Good one,” his father nudged him, then started with his turn to make a suggestion, “Candace, you will—”

“And you will be my willing sex slave, Mom,” Dickie talked over his father. “Whatever I tell you to do or to feel, you will obey.”

“Yesssss,” Stephen whispered, “make the bitch do all kinds of things with you!” He might not have an erection, but he could still get excited about the bitch fooling around with Dickie! Now, his turn: “Candace, you will—”

“And talking dirty makes you HORNY!” Dickie enthusiastically steamrolled over his father. “Dirty words just slip out of your mouth, and it makes you hornier and hornier every time they do. And GOD you get hot when someone else speaks dirty to you!”

“That’s very good, Dickie. But now it’s my turn to make a suggestion,” Stephen whispered. He wanted control of his own penis back. Otherwise he was going to look pretty silly tomorrow with those programmable office girls, but unable to produce an erect penis. “Candace, first thing in the morning, you—”

“AND you wanna run around naked, Mom! You want to show EVERYTHING! And you want Dickie to touch ALL your good parts! And you want him to—”

Candace’s eyes fluttered.

“Oops. That’s it, Dad,” Dickie yanked his father back out of the bathroom by the wrist.

“But I still haven’t made MY suggestion to her!”

“Sorry, Dad. There’s only so much we can program her with before she wakes up each time. Tonight, my stuff was all more important than your stuff.”

“But—”

“It’s better this way, Dad. Hurry back into bed, and she won’t even know we messed with her again.”

Irritated that he was going to have to keep his soft penis now, Stephen crawled back into bed, and Dickie headed for the basement.

A minute later, Stephen heard Candace return to bed beside him, not even suspecting she had just been reprogrammed.

If he’d been able to get erect, he would have ejaculated with excitement right then and there.

Candace made a point of getting up with Stephen the next morning. Just in case he misunderstood anything, she wanted to make sure he had everything straight: “Get all soft for me, Stephen,” she told him in a sweet voice, “Like a good little boy, won’t you? Now you keep it like that for me all day today.”

Stephen had woken up without an erection anyway this morning, but still resented her yanking his chain like that. “Yeah, you just show off for your own son today, bitch. And by this evening ...”

I ought to mute him, Candace thought. A trigger phrase that would shut him up on command, so she wouldn’t have to hear him bitch like this.

Next time she caught him tranced off, she would do just that.

He finished his petulant tirade and left, then Candace had the urge to just pad around the house naked today, to just let Dickie look at ... everything.

But she couldn’t do that. He was her own son, for godssake.

Tits were all he was going to see.

Breasts—she meant breasts. Breasts were all he was going to see.

Normally Dickie slept until 10:00 these days, but Candace was already yearning to strut around in front of him. She looked at the clock: 7:30. Somehow, though, she doubted he’d be too pissed if she woke him toplessly.

Especially if she also had breakfast ready.

She walked back to the bedroom to change clothes. If she was going to strut around in front of Dickie all day, she might as well dress the part. She removed the robe she had used to prevent Stephen from being able to see her body—that asshole didn’t DESERVE to see her after what he did yesterday.

She pulled on a bubblegum-pink thong she had bought to turn Stephen on about a year ago, and flossed the straps up between her butt cheeks. Then she pulled on a pair of black fuck-me pumps—another bedroom tease for Stephen, who didn’t even appreciate it enough to keep from boffing the office help.

Dressed like that, she strolled back to the kitchen and started cooking eggs and sausage.

“What a chef you make, Candy,” Dickie said from the kitchen doorway a couple minutes later, “topless and in heels. God, you look hot, bitch.”

Her son’s approval gave her more of a rush than she expected. But, “You, uhm ... shouldn’t call me Candy, Dickie. It’s ... not respectful ... And don’t ... call me ... bitch ....” Shiver.

Dickie took note of the way the word “bitch” made it hard for her to think—cool! But first things first. “Breakfast.” He stepped to the table and sat, waiting to be served.

Candace leaned forward to show her tits off to best aspect as she served Dickie his eggs and sausage, then stepped back. “Do you like my outfit this morning, Dickie?”

“S’posed to be naked.”

“No, we already went over that. I’m not going to do that. And you can look but not touch. And as soon as—”

“Syrup. You forgot the maple syrup.”

Candace retrieved the maple syrup for him and took a seat.

Dickie forced the food into his mouth, occasionally dumping it with a swallow into his gullet, while he ogled her naked bust.

This made Candace’s nipples perk up—a fact that did not go unnoticed by Dickie. She was getting off on this!

“Take off the g-string,” Dickie told her. Actually, it was mumbled around the baseball-sized mass of food in his mouth, so it sounded more like, “Egg offuh eastun.”

Candace had learned to make out her son’s food-muffled words in the last eighteen years. “No, I told you: you get to see my tits, nothing else. And no feeling anything, either.”

“Ah-uhl.”

“What?”

Big swallow. “I said, caramel.”

“You want some caramel? I think that would be kind of nasty on the sausages, Dickie.”

“No, listen: caramel.”

She waited a moment for him to continue and make sense, then shrugged. “Caramel.”

“This isn’t working.”

“What’s not working?”

“You’re supposed to go back into a trance when I say the word caramel.”

“Go back into a trance? Oh, Dickie, don’t you dare. I told you that you could look at my boobs, young man. Don’t you DARE go trying to plant more suggestions in my mind! Understand?”

“Don’t you find yourself wantin’ me to touch things today?”

“Not at all! I’ve already told you. You can look at my titties. And,” she stood, made sure her thong was still flossed up between her ass cheeks, then turned around and wiggled her ass at him, “and you can admire me when I’m wearing sexy clothes. But I’m not going naked in front of you. And you’re not to touch ANYTHING.”

She sat back down and a minute or two of silence passed. Well, except for Dickie’s slurping noises as he devoured the rest of the eggs and sausage.

Something was filtering these suggestions, Dickie thought. The stronger ones, like being his sex slave, were getting ignored. So was the one about falling back into a trance upon command, though he had seen hypnotists give exactly that suggestion before. At least the smaller suggestions seemed to be taking, though.

Finally, he poured down liquid to lube up everything in the gut and stared at her. Her nipples were still excited. He smiled—they were even more so now that he was staring at them.

“Mom, you ever fooled around on Dad?”

“What?!”

“Simple question. You were pissed off because he banged those two office sluts, but ... have YOU ever cheated on HIM?”

“Three times.” Her eyes widened after that was out of her mouth, and she blushed from face to bosom. “Dickie, you shouldn’t ask me things like that.”

“Tell me about them,” Dickie grinned.

“Dickie, I don’t think we should—”

“Tell me about them, bitch.”

“Two ... two of them were trainers at the gym. The third was one of your father’s coworkers.”

“So ... you’re not really any better than those two office bitches that sucked Dad off? Spreading for the guys at the office?”

“I am NOTHING like them! It was at an office New Year’s party, and I ... got a little tipsy. And did something stupid.”

“Bringin’ in the New Year right,” Dickie nodded arrogantly. “So ... did ya ever tell Dad about it? You know, clear the conscience and all that?”

“I ... I couldn’t. Brian was ... your father’s competition. They had competed for the same positions twice, and Brian beat him out both times.”

“Bendin’ OVER for the enemy! Tell me more.”

“There’s not much to tell. I, uhm ... started off making some catty remarks to him at the start of the party. Then he ... told me he would have me before night’s end. I laughed at him, but he just kept ... staring at me the whole rest of the night. And I kept trying to ignore him. And, unfortunately, drinking.

“Then he ... came up to Stephen and me and went on about how, despite losing at the jobs, Stephen had won at what really mattered most. Me.”

“Gee, what a line. And that made you just butter your panties with juices, didn’t it?”

Candace shut her eyes and felt a shiver tickle through her at the crude language. “I did, just ... butter my panties.” Another shiver.

“So? Go on.”

“About 11:30, I went to look him up. I wanted to ... apologize for being so catty earlier, and to thank him for being such a man about things. I was ... too drunk to resist him when he pulled me off into a side room. And then he startled me by kissing me, and—”

“Were you red at the time?”

“What?”

“Were you dyeing your hair red at the time?”

“Yes.”

“Red-headed bitch!” Dickie sing-songed arrogantly. “Please, continue.”

“Well, at midnight I was bent over the back of a sofa, Brian taking advantage of me from behind, his hands up the front of my blouse to squeeze my titties. I, uhm, wasn’t caring who heard me as I kept gasping, screaming, Brian’s name.”

“Mom!” Dickie grinned, “You’re a screamer!”

“Yes,” she blushed head and bust, “I, uh ... can get quite vocal during sex.”

“I’VE never heard you?!”

“That’s because I’ve been careful not to get loud here at the house since you turned out to be such a little pervert. I mean, back when your room was upstairs, I knew that if I screamed in the bedroom even once, you would be in there whacking your little weener, fantasizing about all kinds of nasty things.” Candace shivered slightly at her own words.

“So ... Dad still had a little self-esteem left before that night. Even though he had lost two jobs to this creep, he still had the prize that mattered. But then you carried the prize to this Brian guy and spread it, for him to mark his territory with his semen just in time for the new year. Is that about it?”

Candace’s eyes flared at him. “I had had a little too much to drink!”

“Anybody catch you two love bugs shtooping and getting shtooped at the stroke of midnight?”

“I think ... the, uhm ... hostess came in around the middle there. There was a, uh, female gasp while I was clawing at the sofa.”

“Caught doing the dirty,” Dickie sing-songed. “Did you pause the infidelity long enough to see who it was, or did you just go ahead and complete the act?”

“I told you, I had had too much to drink. And we were ... very close to ...”

“Completing the betrayal?”

Candace’s hand slapped Dickie’s cheek again.

Dickie glared at her. “Well, did you?”

“I came right after that.”

“And got marked as the enemy’s semeny bitch.”

“Uh, no, not yet. I came two or three more times before Brian finally ejaculated into me.”

“The enemy’s slutty semeny bitch, then. Screaming ecstatically the whole time?”

Candace looked down. “Screaming ecstatically the whole time.”

Dickie stared at her a minute before speaking again. “You get off on being ashamed, don’t you?”

“What?!”

“Look how stiff your nipples are. This is making you all hot.”

Candace looked down and, indeed, they were standing at attention. She covered them with her palms. “Dickie, I don’t think we should—” She stood and stepped back from the table. “I don’t think we should talk about things like this.”

“Hey!” he called as she left toward her bedroom. “We’re not done here.” He wanted her to fry up two more eggs for him.

Oh well. He went to the fridge, got out the cake they’d had for dessert night before last, cut himself a four-inch wedge, then left the cake on the counter and took his slice to the table to devour.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Dickie forced the last of the cake wedge into his mouth, then went to answer it.

“Ar-er!” It was Arthur, one of Dickie’s co-hecklers back in high school, and there was a gorgeous babe standing behind him.

Big swallow. Dickie’s throat bulged a moment, then he smiled.

“Hey, man, how are you doing? Come on in.” His eyes never left his friend’s hot bitch.

“Hey, Dickie. Let me ask you, have you noticed people acting strangely lately?”

Dickie looked from the babe to Arthur. “You mean, like, people doing what they’re told?”

Arthur noticed Dickie’s eyes move back on the female. “Exactly. Dickie, have you met my mother? She goes to the same gym as your mom.”

“Wow! Mrs Venturi! Hi! You look ... GREAT!”

Alice Venturi had dark, shoulder length hair. Like Dickie’s mom, she kept well fit by working out at the gym, as evidenced by her figure as she stood there in four-inch heels and an aqua bikini.

“Ehr ... hi there. Dickie, is it?”

Dickie squeezed the tire around his belly. “In the flesh!”

“You’re, uhm ... you’re Candace’s kid?”

“Since I was born.”

“Aren’t you a little roly-poly to belong to her?”

Dickie’s smile left like the front windshield collapsing in a car wreck.

“Don’t be mean, Mom,” Arthur told her. “Please don’t get pissed, Dickie. She can’t help it. I suggested that she blurt out the truth so I could always know what she was thinking.”

“Hmph,” Dickie sniffed. “I told MY Mom to just answer all my questions truthfully. That way mine can still be taken out in public without being an embarrassment.”

Mrs Venturi stuck the tip of her pinkie the corner of her mouth. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I, Arthur?”

“I’m afraid you have.”

Mrs Venturi turned around and cocked her ass out. “You’d better spank me for it, then.”

Arthur looked at Dickie and smiled. “Another suggestion.”

Mrs Venturi stood there, poised partially over, ass awaiting its firm reprimand.

“I ...,” Dickie swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry with excitement, “I like that one!”

“It wasn’t me you offended, Mom. It was Dickie. I think you should apologize to him.”

Mrs Venturi waddled about to face ass to Dickie. “I’m sorry, Dickie. Perhaps you should spank me so that I know better in the future.”

Mouth still dry, Dickie smack-grabbed Mrs Venturi’s ass.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

He brought his hand back and smack-grabbed her ass again.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t cum, man,” Arthur chuckled at his friend’s excited nervousness. “Where’s your mom?”

“Hey, Mom! Haul it out here!” Dickie brayed.

Smack-grab.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

“Yes, Dickie?” Candace walked out, chest proudly on display for her son. Then shrieked. Covered. Covered one forearm over her breasts. Covered the other spread hand over her thonged crotch. Gasped. “I ... ehr ...” Backed up.

“Oh, Candace! You too!” Mrs Venturi moved out of her bent-over position to follow Candace back from the kitchen into the living room. She managed to get ahold of the redhead’s shoulders and tug her towards the sofa. “Isn’t it just awful?! We just can’t help ourselves!”

“You—you’re affected too, Alice?” Candace asked, breasts still uncomfortably barely covered, but needing to know. “What’s going on?!”

“I’ve gotten four to take,” Arthur said quietly beside Dickie.

“What?”

“I’ve gotten four suggestions to take on her. The dressing in bikini; the blurting out what she’s thinking; the asking for spankings; and one other.”

“What’s the other one?”

“You’ll see in a minute. It was how I was able to get her over here. How about you? What suggestions have you gotten to take?”

“Not all of them work. I tried giving her a key phrase to put her back under, but the phrase hasn’t had any effect on her yet.”

“I know. Me too. And the more outrageous ones don’t seem to take, either.” Arthur stopped when he had spoken that aloud. “I mean—” Because getting your mother to present ass for spanking whenever she thinks she’s offended you IS a little outrageous. But the MORE outrageous ones didn’t seem to take.

“I know what you mean. The smaller suggestions are more likely to take than the bigger suggestions. I guess ‘be my sex slave’ never really had a chance.”

“Shame, too, that.”

“I know. Mom would make a great sex slave.”

“That she would.”

Mrs Venturi was sitting on the couch, leaning toward Candace. Candace was sitting there leaning back from Mrs Venturi’s slow approach. They were muttering some female nonsense or other.

“Is everyone that went to see that magician affected this way? If so, there are a couple teachers from high school I’d like to bang. And a couple cheerleaders.”

“Now that’s an interesting question. I stopped by Charlie’s before coming here. You know his older sister, Elaine? Blonde, big—” Arthur made cupping gestures in front of his chest, and Dickie grinned and nodded. “She graduated college last year and got married. Well, Charlie’s got her turned into a ditzy bimbo that sits on his lap and loves to get her tits pawed. He had her on his lap, his hand reached up under her blouse, just a cuppin’ and a squeezin’.”

“Man, I’m going to have to pay a visit to Charlie!”

“Thing is, though: he swears she wasn’t AT the magician’s show.”

Dickie frowned.

“He swears she was with him and his mother all night, sobbing about how her new hubby is doing her wrong. Then yesterday, he just walked down to breakfast and found her and his mother staring off into space.”

“That’s just stupid. The magician could only do this to people that WENT to see his show. Charlie’s just lying for some reason.”

“Then—too—Dickie, I didn’t go to see the magician, either.”

“Naw, you didn’t have to if you’re an order-giver. Just the order-takers would have had to—”

“Hey! Hey! HEY!” Candace slipped off the couch from being almost pinned to its arm by Mrs Venturi leaning so far forward. “I don’t need comforting like THAT!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Mrs Venturi was reaching for Candace’s forearm-covered breasts. Candace slapped her paws away a couple times, exposing a great deal of nipple until Mrs Venturi slipped one hand through and squeezed a tit. “OhGOD these are nice, Candace!”

Candace lightly slapped Mrs Venturi’s cheek.

Mrs Venturi still had her hand cupped under Candace’s tit and, with a grin, gave another squeeze.

Candace stepped back, a shocked look on her face as she slapped Mrs Venturi’s still-enthusiastic hands away, then fled to her bedroom.

“I can’t HELP it, Candace,” Mrs Venturi called after her. “It’s just the suggestion that Arthur planted in my brain! It’s not my FAULT. It’s the hypnotic SUGGESTIONS.” Then she walked over to the boys with a smug grin.

“Cop some good feels, Mom?” Arthur asked.

With a smile, Mrs Venturi nodded. “Your mother has a GREAT body, Dickie!”

“That was the fourth suggestion: she likes girls now,” Arthur explained to Dickie, then asked his mother, “Did you get excited?” He stepped a little closer to her.

“Yeeeeaaaaah.”

“Real ... excited?” Arthur traced one hand up to cup Mrs Venturi’s aqua-covered breasts.

“Arthur,” she cleared her throat, “I think you’re getting a little frisky.”

“Mom! Don’t!”

“Maybe you ought to go relieve yourself.”

“Dammit!” Arthur looked from side to side. “Dickie, where is your bathroom?!” He continued straining to look.

Dickie frowned. “It’s up the—”

“Shit! Oh shit!” Arthur ran to the corner of the room, facing away, unzipped and reached both hands down to his crotch.

“My cute little boy,” Mrs Venturi nodded, admiring him.

“What’s he—” Ohgod, he was half bent over, grunting, and it looked like he was—“What’s he DOING?!”

“He’s taking the edge off his sex drive. So he doesn’t do anything stupid. Like cup my tit.”

With a last grunt, Arthur stood up, looking relieved and zipped, then turned and walked back to them. He had apparently fired into his palms, because he wiped them on the sides of his t-shirt, leaving fresh jism-stains there.

“Whew! THAT feels better!”

Arthur followed Dickie’s horrified gaze to the stains on his t-shirt. “Aww, Mom! You made me do it again, didn’t you?! DAMmit!”

Mrs Venturi stuck her pinkie tip in the corner of her mouth, then turned to face away from her son and cocked her ass out. “I’m sorry, Arthur. Perhaps you should spank my ass so that I know better in the future.”

Shaking his head, Arthur smack-grabbed his Mom’s butt.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

“She just—you—” Dickie was still quite horrified.

“She tells me to go relieve myself. And I ... do.” Smack-grab.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

“Man, that’s ... horrible!”

“Even more horrible, Dickie: I didn’t go to the magician’s show.”

Dickie scowled: that made no sense. “Then you go whack off in the corner because ... you WANT to?!”

“No! I can’t help it! It’s a suggestion my mother planted in me.” Smack-grab.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

“She planted that suggestion in me. It somehow took. But I was never at the magician’s show.”

“But then ... that would mean ...”

“Something else other than the magician is causing all this.”

Dickie was a little distracted by Mrs Venturi bent over, enjoying her spanking. “That’s ... crazy.” He reached out to squeeze her cheek.

“Hey, hey!” Mrs Venturi looked over her shoulder. “You’re getting a little frisky, Dickie. Maybe YOU ought to go relieve yourself.”

“Ha, ha!” Dickie gave his mock-laugh of power and domination. “I am immune to your powers, woman.”

“Then quit,” she pulled his hand off her butt, “feeling my ass up, little fat boy!”

Dickie’s cheeks reddened with anger.

Arthur quickly decided that if he had her let Dickie spank her, she might wind up with bruised ass cheeks, so he moved the conversation along. “We’re heading over to Jessica’s next.”

“The cheerleader?!”

“Ex-cheerleader. She cheered in high school. She hasn’t gone out for the team at college yet.”

“Man, I bet her Daddy has her doing naked cheers for him now!”

“That,” Arthur nodded, “is what I’m hoping for. Come along, Mom. Nubile young tit-flesh awaits us.”

“Oh, goody!” she followed him to the door and out.

Candace was in her bedroom, standing in front of her mirror, not believing that Alice Venturi had just tried to grab her breasts.

She, apparently, was under the power of her son’s suggestions as well.

Candace had the waist of her thong pinched between thumb and forefinger and was very slowly tugging it down to just ... so.

That’s what it would look like if ... she showed Dickie just the barest hint of pubic hair.

Not that she wanted to encourage the little pervert, but ... well, for some reason the thought of doing that was getting her excited today. Not fully naked, of course—he was her son. But ... just the barest hint of fur.

She wondered if he had somehow slipped another suggestion or two in on her.

She sighed. What could Alice Venturi have been thinking?! If that was from one of her son’s suggestions, she sure wasn’t trying very hard to resist them.

Unlike Candace herself, who at least was drawing some lines she would not cross—she wasn’t going to go naked, and she wasn’t going to let him feel anything. At least she had SOME willpower.

She was practicing lowering her thong again when the phone rang, and she answered it, “Hello?”

“Hi, Candace.”

“Stephen.”

“I called to apologize for what I did with those two secretaries yesterday. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Apology accepted. I still have quite a bit of resentment—and feelings of betrayal—but apology accepted.”

“And on the flip side, you have no business showing your breasts to Dickie. And I forgive you.”

Candace stayed silent while she tapped her foot. Stephen had just re-lost any points he had gained the moment before.

“My point is this. Strange things are happening. And we both need to be mature adults about them. And I think it would be a sign of maturity on your part if you—”

“I’m not giving you your penis back, Stephen.”

“Caaaandaaaace! It’s not fair. I can’t get a hard-on because of what you did, and everyone’s making fun of me because of it.”

“I don’t care. You’re not responsible enough to be allowed to have a hard-on.”

“Candace! You let me get erect, right now!”

“No.”

“Candace!”

“Is that all you called to talk about, Stephen?”

“Candace ... pleeeeeease?”

“What are you going to do with it if I let you have one? Go shtoop one of those office whores?”

“Well ... yeah.”

“Get all soft for me, Stephen, get all soft for me, get all soft for me.”

“You bitch!”

She hung up on him.

Turd.

“Hey, Candy!” Dickie opened her bedroom door and barged in as she was practicing with her thong, eliciting a squeal of surprise from her. “Didn’t the Evansons go with you and Dad to the hypnotist’s show?” He stared blatantly at her nipples and watched them perk up as he did so.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, they went with us.”

“And haven’t I heard you say that Mr Evanson is a pervert?”

“I’ve seen him ogle a few girls at the gym.”

“Hmm. Don’t you think we’d better go check on her? If she’s been slipping back into trances with that pervert around, she may need our help.”

The boy had a point. But ... “No.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’d have to cover up my breasts, and you wouldn’t be able to look at them,” she blurted. “Erh ... I mean ... it’s just that ...,.” Oh hell, that WAS what she meant.

“It’s okay, Mom. You can wear a tank top without a bra, so you can pull it forward and let me look down your shirt every now and then.”

“I think ... I’d rather stay here where you can look at them without anything covering them.” Plus, if she practiced just a little more, she would do the “expose the teensiest bit of pubic hair” thing.

“Well,” he shrugged, “I’m going. You’re welcome to come or not.”

“Oh, come on, Dickie. Let’s just stay here and look at my breasts.”

“Nope. Mrs Evanson is our friend, Mom. I for one, am not going to desert her.”

“Dickie, you know I don’t want to stay here without you.”

“Then pull on a tank top and let’s go.”

A few minutes later, Candace was walking out bralessly in a tank top, thong and heels with Dickie.

“You drive,” he told her.

They got in the car.

“Hey, Mom, before we get started, show me your tits,” Dickie told her.

Candace pulled out the front of her tank top and let Dickie look down and watch her nipples harden. She thought about pulling her thong down, but she only wanted to show him the barest amount of pubic hair and didn’t want to accidentally show too much. She was not about to go naked for the boy. She still held some standards and was going to stand by them, hypnotic suggestions or not. So she decided to wait until she had practiced enough.

“Okay,” he looked back forward again. “We can go now.”

Candace put the car in gear and started toward the Evansons.

They stopped at a red light, and Dickie noticed a girl sitting on a bench at a bus stop there, staring off into space. She wasn’t bad looking, and he was half-tempted to jump out and go whisper some suggestions in her ear, but as he watched, she blinked, then looked around. Shame, to let a trance go to waste like that.

He looked back forward, and the light was green. “We can go now, Mom.”

He looked at her.

Hot damn, yes! She was in a trance again!

“Listen, Mom,” he tried to keep his excitement under control, “You’re going to want to kiss Dickie, you want to neck with him so , you want to swap spit with him, you want to stick your tongue down his throat.”

Breathe. breathe.

Actually, since the suggestions had to be smaller to take—since the all-encompassing ones seemed to just bounce off—it somehow made the smaller ones even more exciting!

“Also, you LOVE Dickie’s fat. It turns you on SO much to rub your hands over it and touch it that you just can’t help yourself.”

She blinked. That meant she was coming out of—

Oh, shit! Don’t forget the reason they were going to the Evansons! “Girls, Mom! You like girls! Naked girls get you really hot, and you want to kiss Mrs Evanson!”

“Dickie ... did you just ... tell me to like girls?”

“No ... I don’t think so.”

“I slipped into a trance again, didn’t I, Dickie? And you ... told me to like girls?”

“Gosh, Mom, I would never take advantage of—”

“Because I don’t WANT to like girls.” She pointed her finger at him. “Dickie, don’t you DARE suggest to me that I like women, understand me? That is not a place I want to go, so don’t you DARE try to push me there!”

“Gotcha, Mom, gotcha. No lesbo.”

“No, none of it. Understood?”

“Gotcha.” Grin of innocence.

She started the car forward and continued to the Evansons.

Angie swayed her hips as she walked up the hall. Yesterday everyone had been very careful to undress and boff each other only inside private offices. Today everyone had already received suggestions from spouses or from lustful admirers, so if her clothes were in a little disarray—you know, a tit hanging out here, or your thong flossed up a little too far between your ass cheeks—well, noone really bothered to fix stuff like that today.

She knocked on Mr Grayson’s door and waited a moment to give him a chance to pull his pecker out of Mary if he had her bent over a desk in there—although, it sounded from the rumors like his wife had taken his penis away last night. Poor little guy couldn’t get hard for the life of him.

She opened the door and stepped in and ....

... Mr Grayson was sitting at his desk, staring off into space.

Before she even had a chance to think about it, words tumbled out of her mouth, “Mr Grayson, you want to share your wife with other men. You want to bare the slut in public, you get SOOOOOO excited to have her pussy wet down with the spunk of other men.”

She then instructed him that if he came across any man in a trance, he would issue the same words to him; and if he came across any woman in a trance, he would tell her that she would get SOOOO turned on baring her breasts and ass and pussy, letting them feel things, until they made her shiver with pleasure as they unloaded jism into her.

These were the same instructions that Mr Buchanan had given Angie yesterday, along with the instruction to pass them on.

Anyway, when she was done with her auto-response, Mr Grayson was still sitting there, staring off into space. With a giggle, Angie decided to do the poor little guy a favor. “Mr Grayson, you don’t have to be hard to cum. You can still get real excited, even when you’re soft. And if Angie tells you, ‘Cum for me, baby,’ you’ll instantly orgasm.”

Actually, there was no reason she couldn’t make her own life a little easier too. “Also, Angie is your favoritest office girl. You’ll do ANYTHING for her! Even ... even leave your wife and shower Angie with any gifts she wants. And you just love to lick her toes, to get your tongue threaded in between them and clean them out all happy and fresh, and until Angie tells you that—”

Oops, his eyes were fluttering. It looked like he was coming out of it.

“Here are the Dexter reports,” she smiled as she handed him a folder.

He was just staring at her ....

Looking at her in a whole new light ....

Then he looked at her feet. “Angie ... have I ever commented on how beautiful your toes are?”

Giggle. “Are they?”

He dropped to his knees on the floor. “They are the toes of a goddess. Let me ... let me worship them.”

Angie giggled as she stepped out of her heels and let her feet be tongue-cleaned.

When Janine Evanson answered her door, she was wearing a hip-length white lace teddy; white four-inch strappy heels; her hair was in pigtails; in her left hand she held a large, partially-licked lollipop; and her right thumb was inside her mouth.

“Janine?!” Candace was shocked. “What—?! How—?! Who did this to you?!” It HAD to be some sort of hypnotic suggestion.

Janine pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “Daddy did this to me.” She stuck the thumb back in.

“You mean Bill?! Bill did THIS to YOU?!”

Thumb out. “Yes, Bi—Bi—” frustration showed in her eyes, but she calmed herself and tried again, “Bi—” Sigh. “Yeah, him. Daddy did this to me! That bastard.” Thumb in.

“Wow, Mrs Evanson,” Dickie grinned, “You look HOT!”

Thumb out. “Don’t you start in, Dickie.” Thumb in.

“How, Janine? How did Bill do this to you?” Candace asked. This was much more extreme than what Dickie had done to her.

“I don’t know. Sometime I guess I started daydreaming or something. And when I came back, Bi—Bi—(foot stamp) Daddy was smirking. And then I had these urges to ... do things. Like the pigtails. And the thumb sucking. And the lollipop.”

“Janine, this is—” Candace shook her head, feeling for her friend’s predicament. “Oh, you poor thing.”

“Let’s step inside, before the neighbors see me like this. And decide to take advantage of me later.”

Candace and Dickie followed Janine into her living room and sat on the sofa. Janine sat in her babydoll on the coffee table, thumb parked in mouth.

“Really, Mrs Evanson, you look AWESOME like this!” Dickie grinned and nodded.

“Shut up, Dickie,” Candace told him. Then to Janine, “How could someone do something like this to their own wife?! I can’t believe Bill is being such a prick!”

Janine’s eyes widened, and she pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “P-prick?! Bi—Bi—(frustrated foot stamp) Daddy’s not a prick.” She took several nervous licks of her lollipop. Thumb in.

“Mom! YOU ought to be like this!”

“I told you to shut up, Dickie. Janine, how many suggestions has he made to you?”

Thumb out. “I don’t know. There are the pigtails. And the lollipop. And my mouth feels empty now until I have my thumb or a cock in it.”

“Shut up, Dickie,” Candace cut him off before he could even say anything.

“And Bi—Bi—Daddy also made me so I cum any time he squeezes my tits.”

“Oh, I GOTTA see this!” Dickie started forward with hands at tit height for Mrs Evanson’s orbs.

“Dickie! Don’t you DARE!” Janine shrieked and brought hands and forearms forward to block him.

“Dickie!” Candace grunted as she grabbed his belt and tried to tug back, “Cut it out!”

One of Dickie’s hands managed to get around the slapping hands and forearms to press boob. Janine gasped and arched her back, unintentionally thrusting breasts forward. It became a lost battle after that: Dickie’s hands both cupped tit and brought about gasps with every good squeeze.

Candace was yanking her son back by his belt to no effect, so reached around his belly to try to throw the boy off balance and let—

Oh.

Wow.

Dickie’s fat felt so ... GOOD!

Candace spread her fingers wide and gently squeezed the blubber.

Ohgod.

That felt ... erotic.

She—she moved her hands around to ... feel some more.

With a chuckle, Dickie even stopped groping the moaning pigtailed woman. “Yeah, the ole rolls of fat are starting to feel pretty good to you, aren’t th—”

“What are you two smirking about?!” Dickie grumbled. Both his mother and Mrs Evanson were looking at him with smiles in their eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” Candace said lightly.

Janine took her thumb out of her mouth. “How are ya feelin’ about now, Dickie? Hmm?” Thumb in.

“Like you two are a mite too pleased with yourselves. What are you up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” Candace continued smiling.

“You HAVE to tell me—I gave you a suggestion, Mom. You HAVE to.”

“I was able to resist that suggestion, Dickie. And it gets easier every time I do it.”

“Tell me,” Dickie reached for Mrs Evanson’s boobs. Before she could get her thumb out of her mouth to block him, he’d squeezed tit, and she started cumming.

Candace found herself on the face end instead of the ass end of her son as he milked orgasms out of her best friend this time, so she slapped him hard across the cheek.

“OW!”

“Quit making her cum, you little prick!” Candace got her pointed finger in Dickie’s face while Janine started to catch her breath from gasping. “How can you DO that to her?! After the smug prick that her husband is being?!”

“But—I—”

“Go. To. The. Car. Now!”

“But—?!”

“Dickie! Now!”

He glared at her a minute, then decided he would just fix her attitude the next time she zoned off, make her a little more amenable to the good stuff. Still keeping up a show of being pissed, though, he stomped out to the car.

Candace came out a minute or two later, got silently in the car, and neither of them spoke the whole way home.

Candace pulled into the driveway and parked, then just paused, her hands on the steering wheel.

Dickie sighed. Here it came. She was going to get all motherly and bitchy again. Well, he’d already decided that he’d just keep on implanting—

Candace reached over, grabbed Dickie’s love handles and fondled, startling him. Not meeting his eyes, she ran her hands over them, gently squeezing.

Then she jerked her hands back, got out of the car and went into the house.

All riiiiight! With a chuckle, Dickie followed.

The rolls of fat were gettin’ good to the bitch!

With feet clean and glistening, Angie dropped to her knees in front of Stephen and opened her mouth to receive cock.

“But I—it’s—I mean—” Stephen was excited but ... limp.

“I don’t care, baby. I can still make it feel good.”

“Ohgod, Angie, you’re wonderful!” he sighed as he laid his soft penis on her tongue.

She wrapped her lips around it and sucked like she was going after the last of the toothpaste in the tube.

“Ohgod, Angie! Ohgod!” his hands went to the back of her head.

She had to use a lot more jaw action to make up for the lack of rigidity, but she stimulated it to excited softness.

“Ohgod, Angie! Ohgod, Angie!” he whimpered over and over, hands pressing her face full into his crotch. She didn’t mind. it was easy deep throating Stephen’s excited little softie.

“Am I your bestest bitch?” she asked when she popped off and Stephen’s penis sagged down onto his scrotum despite his excitement.

“Ohgod, baby, yeah! I would leave my wife for you!”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” she grinned. “Cum for me, baby. Dribble all over my face!”

Groaning powerfully, Stephen clenched his ass cheeks. A couple drops of semen leaked out of his penis and dripped onto Angie’s cheekbone.

“That’s my baby! That’s my man!” Angie cheered him on. She wiped the cum off her face with one index finger, had to turn her finger until the dab of spunk glistened in the light to make sure she hadn’t missed the tiny gob, then stuck that finger in her mouth and drank down the drop of his sperm.

“I DO!” she gushed as she stood and hugged him. “I DO take you for my husband!”

Candace had shed that silly tank top as soon as she was in the house, and was standing there with her arms crossed under her boobs, ready to display then in all their glory for her little Dickie.

She beamed for him when he came in from the car, but he just walked past her on his way toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Dickie,” she called, her thumbs in the waist of her thong. She was ready now to show him the faintest hint of fur. No more than that, understand you, but the faintest hint of fur wouldn’t hurt anybody.

“Sorry, Mom,” his back called to her, “It’s been a couple hours since I ate. Gotta feed the machine and all that.”

Well ... she guessed she’d show him the faintest hint of fur later. After he’d stuffed the gut.

She followed Dickie into the kitchen, where he’d already spread dishes all over the counter and table and was chowing down on a cold chicken leg. She sat down across from him so that he could enjoy looking upon her bare breasts, though it was a couple minutes of food later before his eyes left his chicken leg to drift to them.

“Mmm, lookin’ good there, Mom,” he slurped around the greasy chicken.

Candace sat there ten more minutes until he finished his feeding, then she stepped to him, knelt on the floor beside his chair, and laid her hands on that overstuffed inner tube he called a belly. “Dickie ... a lot has happened over the last couple days,” her hands wandered over those soft curves of fat as she talked, “and I wouldn’t have thought that—”

“Hold it, Mom.”

Her voice stopped, but her hands continued to lightly roam.

“If I can’t feel yours, you can’t feel mine.”

The hands stopped. “What?”

“If I can’t feel nuthin’ on you,” he pulled her hands off his belly rolls, “then you can’t feel nuthin’ on me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope. I treasure my fat rolls as much as you treasure your tits.”

“You’re kidding, right, Dickie? I’m doing you a favor touching them. Noone else would want to—”

“Hey, this is my personal body we’re talking about here. You have no right to be going touching things uninvited.”

“Dickie, I can’t believe you’re saying this. You’re lucky that I’m not too repulsed by it, by you, to even—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he took both hands, pinched up a roll of adipose and shook it at her. “Doesn’t that just make you mouth water? But I’m going to keep it from you, same as you kept all your good parts from me.”

Candace shook her head as she started to get angry now. “Dickie, don’t you thank you can twist—”

“Ah-ah. Nope. What’s fair for the pussy is fair for the prick.”

“Fine, then!” She glared at him after a moment. “You can just sit here and squeeze your own rolls of fat, then.” She stormed off.

Dickie heard the door to her bedroom slam shut.

He pinched up the roll of fat again and pointed it upwards to face him. “What do you think?” he asked it. “Is she overreacting?” He shook it as though it were answering. “Yeah, I think so too.”

“Oh, honey, I’m home,” Stephen called when he opened the door and stepped in. Then more softly, “And I brought company.”

“Hey, Dad.” Dickie was stuffing his food hole a little more before dinner, though he stopped to ogle the babe that Dad led in behind him. “Who’s the, uh ... ?”

“Dickie, this is Angie. She’s going to be your new mother.”

“Bitchin’! I got one hot mom! ‘Course ... I already got a hot mom, Dad.”

“Where is wife number one, by the way, Dickie? I’d like the bitch to meet her replacement.”

“She’s in the bedroom. I did something or other to piss her off earlier. Door’s locked—I’ve already tried it.”

Stephen stepped to a drawer and opened it. “Your mother sometimes likes to play the drama queen. This,” he held up a key, “cheats her of that fun.” He strolled toward the bedroom.

“You look hot,” Dickie nodded approvingly at Angie.

“Well ... thank you. You’re Stephen’s son?”

Dickie pinched up a roll of the belly. “In the flesh,” he chuckled.

“Oh.” Quick polite smile. That kid was going to military school as soon as she became Mrs Stephen Grayson. Maybe they could work some of the fat off him.

“I want you to meet your replacement, sweetie,” Stephen led Candace out to the kitchen.

“Oh, you must be the penis woman,” Angie offered her hand, which Candace didn’t take.

“The what?”

“That tried to take your husband’s penis away. Poor thing.” She wrapped her arms around Stephen and hugged him from the side. “Bet we found ways around that, didn’t we, snookums?”

“That we did,” Stephen beamed.

“Guess you can’t keep a good prick down, can you Dad?”

“Nope, that you can’t, Dickie.” Then to Candace, “What do you think of that?”

“I think you’re still soft, no matter how much she tells you you’re hard.”

Stephen opened his mouth, but there was a knock at the kitchen door, so he answered it first.

Mrs Mulcahy from next door stood there in a raincoat. “Hi, Stephen.” She had the short dark hair of a pixie-ish housewife and very cute dimples when she smiled, as she was doing now.

“Uh, hi, Ann. What’s up?”

“Well, I was sitting next door when I had the indescribable urge to—” She flung open her raincoat to reveal that she wore only high heels underneath.

Not even pubic fur.

Dickie sputtered. “Mrs Mulcahy! You look great!”

“Why, thank you, Dickie,” she swayed her hips to the other side, then back for him.

“I don’t think Dickie needs to be seeing,” Candace stepped in front of the naked woman, frowning at her bald pubes, “that.”

“Moooom!”

“C’mon, Stephen,” Angie tugged him by the hand, “I want to see our new bedroom. Show me where we’ll be making love tonight.”

With a grin, Stephen left the kitchen with his replacement wife.

“No, really, it’s no good unless someone’s looking,” Mrs Mulcahy stepped to the side around Candace so Dickie could continue to ogle.

“Now see here, Ann, I will not ... have ... him ...,” Candace swayed slightly, then just stood there.

“Ohh, trance! You have the irresistible desire to shave your pussy!” Mrs Mulcahy blurted. “And any woman that you come across in a trance, you will make this same suggestion to her.”

“Hey! Don’t make suggestions to my Mom!” Dickie complained. “That’s MY job! Okay, Mom, you are going to find that—”

“Candace, where did you put the,” Stephen called as he stepped back into the kitchen, but then halted when he saw her dazed look. He stepped in front of her unfocused eyes. “Are you—ohgod, yes! You are going to get it now, bitch!” He clapped his hands in anticipation of payback.

Startled, Dickie looked down at his crotch, where he had just sprouted a monstrous hard-on.

“Okay, Candace, for starters—”

“Dad! I think you’d better stop!” Dickie told him.

“Nonsense! You gave her your suggestions last night. Now it’s my turn! And I have a couple whoppers to give her! Candace you will—ooomph!” The breath was knocked out of Stephen as Dickie barreled into him and toppled him to the floor. “What the—cut it out, Dickie! Get offa me! Hey! What’re you DOING?!”

Dickie was fighting to get his father’s belt unbuckled and his pants unzipped. “Sorry, Dad! I ... got an URGE!”

“For Chrissakes!” Stephen tried to fight, but it was like trying to struggle with a 350 pound sack of horny potatoes that wanted sex RIGHT NOW. Unable to shove the weight off him, Stephen found his pants pulled down and himself rolled over on his belly, then he felt an urgent hammering at his—behind his—“For Chrissakes, Dickie! Don’t DO that!” Stephen fought to keep his boxers pulled up as a thin shield against ... THAT!

“Ohgod, Dad! I can’t HELP myself!”

“... looking ... at ... your bare pussy,” Candace started up again, realized the bare-shaven woman was no longer in front of her, then turned to look at what Ann was gaping at.

Thanking every god that had ever shown mercy to a human being, Dickie found his urge gone and crawled off his father.

Stephen laid there limply.

From a safe distance, Dickie studied the back of Stephen’s boxers. No hole. No hole! No hole! Thank God! So he had—for SOME INSANE reason—tried to, but he HADN’T. He HADN’T! Thank God!

Stephen stood, visibly shaken, cast a glance over his shoulder at the 350 pound terror his son had turned out to be, then sank into Angie’s arms, whimpering.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, “It’s okay. We’ll pack the little monster off to military school right away. I hear they use instruments up the butt in hazings at such places. The little monster will feel right at home, getting sodomized by the other cadets.”

“I’m ... I’m SORRY, Dad! I have no idea what came over me!”

Mrs Mulcahy crossed herself as she backed to the door with shocked eyes, then quickly left.

“I just ... slipped into a trance again, didn’t I?” Candace asked.

Angie glared at her while Stephen sobbed into wife number two’s shoulder.

“Please, Mom,” Dickie shook his head in horror, “stop being concerned with just yourself. I just ... tried to stick my ... up Dad’s ... and I have NO IDEA WHY!”

“I do.”

Dickie’s head snapped to her.

“You were protecting me. From his suggestions.” She nodded toward the sobbing Stephen.

“I—no—I mean, I love ya, Mom, but—I wouldn’t do THIS for you. And besides, Dad mighta come up with some good suggestions for you. No, it’s gotta be—”

“It’s what Janine suggested to you when you were in a trance this afternoon.”

“When what?”

“You slipped into a trance this afternoon, and she suggested that—”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes you did, sweetie.”

“No, I—I couldn’t have. I didn’t even GO to the hypnotist.”

“And yet there you were, staring off into space. And I was worried about Stephen trying to pull some type of vengeance suggestions. So she suggested that if any man tried to plant suggestions in my head while I was in a trance, you would try to forcibly hump him. We figured that 350 pounds of attempted leg-humping—or butt humping in this case—is enough to distract anyone until I came to and was safe again.”

“I—but—how COULD you?!”

“It’s okay, honey. Daddy’s shorts aren’t torn. You didn’t even achieve penetration.”

“That doesn’t MATTER! I still shouldn’t have to have my willy jammed up between ... between his ass cheeks!”

“He bruised my rectum!” Stephen snapped back over his shoulder.

“C’mon, baby, let’s go make it all right,” Angie started leading him off toward the bedroom. “I’ll even lick you poor bruised rectum later. Will that make it better?”

“I can’t believe you DID that!” Dickie complained after those two left. “I don’t want to jamming my pecker up some guy’s—I—ohgod, I can’t believe you did that! How COULD you?!” He ran off to the basement, his face bunched up.

Candace shook her head. People could dish it out, but couldn’t take it. She guessed she probably ought to go throw Stephen and his slut out of the bedroom.

First, though ... she had the sudden urge to go shave her pussy bald.