The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

God was coming.

Seth could feel it in his belly, the same way he had always felt that the rapture would be real, not figurative, but real. Let the unbelievers scoff. Jesus would come through and sweep all the righteous up with Him in one glorious, beautiful moment; leaving the sinners empty, fetid gray hollow shells, with only their miserable selves, languishing upon the blackened earth.

Let them scoff THEN.

Yes, God was coming.

And Seth was ready.

Candace quietly slipped down the basement stairs in just a g-string and heels.

She could have stormed into her own bedroom like a harpy, tried to chase Stephen and his slut out, maybe gotten into a screaming contest with them. But it was easier just to crawl downstairs into bed with Dickie.

And Dickie didn’t realize it fully yet, but he was safer for her to be around anyway.

She knew he heard her footsteps, but he just laid on his bed, his back to her, still pouting about that little suggestion to try to butt-hump any of her would-be suggesters.

But, ohgod, those sexy little rolls of blubber. Even under his t-shirt, their soft contours teased her, licked at her libido.

Breath trembling, she reached and laid her hands on them, those soft squishy folds of fat, then slowly moved her fingers around, gently touching and squeezing.

“Are you groping my fat?” he asked bluntly, not rolling over.

“I guess,” she breathed, so turned on that she was wetting herself, “I guess I am.”

“Well, stop it.”

“Dickie ... I want to show you something.” She withdrew her hands and stepped back from the bed.

He laid there, too sullen to move.

“I think you’ll like this,” she sing-songed.

After a few moments of consideration, Dickie looked over his shoulder, then rolled over. “What?”

With a smile, Candace hooked her thumbs in her g-string and pulled it to her feet. She no longer HAD the faintest bit of fur to show him, so she figured, why the fuck not? Let him see the freshly shaven puss.

After all, the poor little fella was so depressed about trying to hump his father’s butt, maybe she would even ... let him touch a thing or two.

“You’re ... you’re bald.”

“That I am,” she smiled. “Do you like?” God, it felt good for him just to be looking at her!

“But I didn’t get to see it when you were dishwater blonde.”

“Oh, my pubes weren’t dishwater blonde anyway, Dickie. My pussy fur is darker than the hair on my head. A lot of blondes are like that.”

She stepped to him wearing nothing but high heels. “Now, what I’d really like to do is ...,” she spread her hands out on the ring of fat about his middle, then began moving them over it’s rippling blubbery surface.

“Mom ... you’re feeling up my fat.”

“Ohgod, yes I am, Dickie. And I want to hold it and squeeze it while I sleep down here with you.”

“You want to what?!”

“I just can’t keep my hands off this soft squishy stuff!” Squeeze.

“You want to sleep down here with me?”

“Yes,” she breathed as she crawled into bed with him, “I do. It’ll be safer than with your father; plus, I can do ... this.” She gave the rolls another squeeze.

“Okay ... but then I get to—” he reached for her bare breasts.

Halted abruptly.

Looked a little funny.

Flopped over on his other side and fumbled urgently at his own crotch.

Then shook the bed as he frantically jerked his hard-on until it fired into his own palm.

Wiped his spermy hands off onto his own chest.

While Candy gently caressed his spare tire with a sweet smile the whole time.

“Wait a minute! Why did I just—?!”

“That was MY suggestion for you this afternoon, honey. Instead of touching Mommy’s parts, you’ll ... wank yourself for her instead.”

“Maaamaaaa!”

“It’s okay, sweetie. Who else gets to have their belly stroked like this all night long? Sperming your own chest up is a small price to pay for caresses like this.”

Her hands softly roamed lovingly over his surplus weight.

Halfway through the night, Dickie woke up to the warm wetness of his mother’s tongue licking his rolls of fat.

His little penis was at stiff erectness, but her hands avoided that, caressing instead those great soft lumpy layers of fatty deposits over his belly and ass.

After a few minutes, he heard muffled squeaks slip out of her mouth as she came. Just from ... squeezing his folds.

It wasn’t FAIR! SHE could touch HIM, but HE couldn’t touch HER!

He laid his hand on her thigh and started to move it toward her crotch, thinking to get at least one good feel of those cute little hairless pussy lips before—

Suddenly he jerked over on his other side to face away from her and furiously wanked the little fella until he came.

Dammit! He had wanted to at least touch those bald—

“THAT’S my little boy,” her hands continued to lightly play with his big soft belly.

Dickie sat at the table, moping. Life sucked. His mother was jiggling about the kitchen in nothing more than high heels, moist hairless pussy feeling the cool lick of air as she moved about.

And he couldn’t touch nuthin’.

It wasn’t fair!

He was so depressed he’d even stopped eating after his twelfth pancake.

“Oh, Dickie, this is WONDERFUL!” she giggled as she knelt in front of him and laid her hands on his love handles. “The freedom to just prance around naked and show all my good parts to you! I LIKE this hypnosis stuff! Plus, I get to ....” She pulled up the front of his t-shirt and began licking his rolls of fat.

“But Maaama! It’s not fair! I can’t touch nuthin’ on YOU! Not unless I want to sit here and play with myself in front of you! How could you DO—OW!”

“Oops, sorry,” she giggled. “I got a little carried away there. Your blubber just tastes so scrumptious, baby.”

He looked where he was reddening from her love-nip. “You gave me a FAT HICKEY, is what you did!”

“Oops! Guess I did. Here, let me make it up to you.” She straightened up, pulled his hands by the wrists to cover her tits and smiled to his horrified face.

“Maaama!” he gasped, his eyes widening before he could even squeeze them. Instead, he abandoned tit, frantically loosed and dropped his pants, gripped his erection, and his hips started pumping into his fist. “Dammit, Mama!” his voice vibrated as he self-worked his tool. “Don’t DO that!”

“Oh, Dickie, I started to get depressed, your father and his new bitch were so snide to me this morning before they left for work. But being able to feel up your flab, and to watch my little perv play with himself for me—you just make my day so much happier, sweetie!”

“Maaaama!”

“Cum for me now, sweetie.”

“Mama, you can’t—you can’t—oh! Goddammit!” He cupped one hand over the top of his cock to catch the pecker spit, then clenched as he fired.

“Oh, what a good boy!”

“Ohgod! Ohgod! OHGOD!” Big clench and shiver. He looked at her, his face red, his hands coated with cream, which he started wiping off on his own t-shirt. “How can you DO this to me?!”

“Oh, Dickie, you’re just so CUTE when you do that! Do it again!” She grabbed his wrists and tried to yank his hands back up over her boobs, but he fought her, eyes wide.

“Maaaama!” he complained as he struggled with her, “How can you TREAT me this way?!”

“Awww,” Candace teased, “Don’t you want to touch them, honey? They’re yours for the feeling. Just reach out and—”

There was a knock at the door, and Candace quit playing and made a quick dash back to her bedroom to get a robe.

“Whatsamatter, Mama? Hmm?” Dickie called after her. “Don’t you want to show your tits to EVERYBODY?” Making faces and grumbling, he went to answer the door, slime still on his t-shirt.

It was Arthur, and his mother and older sister. His mother, Dickie was disappointed to see, was in a raincoat—though ... maybe she was naked underneath and would flash them later.

“Hi, Dickie,” Arthur sighed. “My sister wanted to run you through the interrogation about—”

“Hey!” she barked to cut him off.

Arthur sighed again. “She wants to ASK you a few questions.” Face of sympathy. “Good luck, man.”

Arthur’s sister, Abigail, was two years older than Dickie and her brother, so Dickie knew her by reputation from high school. She was pretty enough, with dark shoulder-length hair, and Dickie had the impression that she’d never gotten anything less than an “A” in her whole life. But, “She’s not naked,” Dickie commented quietly to his friend.

“Tell me about it. She was out of town when the hypnotist came through, so she doesn’t HAVE trances now. And she’s just ‘appalled’ by what we’ve all done with the place.”

“Arthur tells me that your mother is having trances too, and that you’re exploiting her with no more scruples than he has, taking advantage of your own mother. Is that true?”

“She’s a psych major at college,” Arthur explained.

“Can I take this off now?” Mrs Venturi plucked at her raincoat. “It’s all itchy.”

“No, Mom,” Abigail sighed, “You don’t really WANT to take it off. These boys were just trying to use you to satisfy their own perverted desires by taking advantage of you in your compromised state.”

“Yeah, but it’s still itchy,” she complained.

“Keep the coat ON, Mom,” Abigail rolled her eyes and sighed, then back to Dickie, “So your mother is having trances?”

“Yeah ... she’s slipped into a couple of them.”

“And Arthur said you made her run around topless, you little perv?!”

Dickie frowned at her for a second, then wiped his hand on the recent cum stain on his shirt. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he used that same hand to grab hers and shake it. “I’m Dickie Grayson. And you must be Arthur’s big bitch sister Abigail.” He let go of her hand with a wipe.

“What do you have on your ...,” she raised her hand and rubbed her fingers together. Then she cast her eyes to her brother’s similarly stained shirt. “Awww, God! You little creep!”

Dickie and Arthur both broke out in grins.

With a tut, Abigail wiped her hand on the hip of her jeans and continued on, determined to ignore the remaining traces of Dickie-sperm on her fingers, to cheat him of the satisfaction of grossing her out. “Is she here? Your mother? I’d like to talk to her, ask her a few questions.”

Dickie narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“If she can figure out what’s causing these trances,” Arthur added in, “she thinks she can figure out a way to cancel the suggestions.”

If she cancelled the suggestions, Dickie reasoned, his mom wouldn’t be running around naked or offering her boobs up to him. But then he also wouldn’t have to play with himself in public whenever he touched any of her good parts.

And he was pretty sure that he could still wear his mother down with “the voice” until she flashed him her tits or pussy just to get him to shut up. He’d just keep reminding her that he’d already seen them, and he knew the power of “the voice” to erode people’s resolve.

Before he could give his permission, Candace walked out wearing a robe. “Who is it, Dickie?”

“Candy!” Mrs Venturi’s eyes lit up.

“Cut it out, Mom,” Abigail snapped at her. “Mrs Grayson, I’d like to ask you a few questions. About your trances, and about the abuse your son has put you through.”

“Hey!” Dickie complained.

“Sure, come on in,” Candace stepped back from the door.

The trio filed in, and they all went to the kitchen, where Abigail continued to offend Dickie with her accusatory tone. Candace answered a number of questions.

“Are you very sure that the trances are affecting even people that did not attend the hypnotist’s show?”

“Oh, yes, very sure.”

“How can you be so confident?”

“Dickie tried to sodomize his father last night to protect me from further suggestions.”

“Mama! That’s NOT something we mention in front of OTHER PEOPLE!” Dickie flushed crimson.

“Oh, look at him blushing,” Candace stood and stepped toward him. “Normally, he’d never stand up for me like that. But I suggested it to him in a trance, and there he was, trying to shove it up his father’s ass to protect me—my little hero.”

“Mama!”

She grabbed a wrist, jerked it up and cupped his hand over her breast. “He also performs tricks.”

“MAAAAAAMA!”

Dickie jerked his hand back, aghast, yanked down his pants down in front of Arthur, Arthur’s mother and Arthur’s bitch sister, then began whacking the weener with a dark red face.

“Isn’t he cute!” Candace admired her little performer.

“Oh, MAN!” Arthur averted his eyes. “It’s wrong just to SEE something like that!”

“And he performs like this for you anytime you pull his hand to your breast?” Abigail gloated with a grin while Dickie whacked.

“Anytime he touches anything he shouldn’t be touching. It helps to keep him in line. Especially since he grew up to be such a little perv otherwise. I really think this hypnosis stuff is WONDERFUL if you handle it correctly.”

Dickie grunted as he clenched and fired into his palm, then wiped the scum off on the front of his t-shirt.

Ohgod. He had just played with himself in front of that bitch Abigail.

As soon as he looked up, she was going to be smirking at him, gloating.

Goddammit!

Well, the only way to handle something like this was to hit it head on. He looked up and glared at her.

She just smiled pleasantly back. “Oh, make him do it again, Mrs Grayson.”

“DON’T you DARE!” Dickie hissed at his mother. He stood and jerked his pants back up.

“Isn’t he cute?” Candace beamed.

“Cute as a fat boy can be,” Abigail grinned.

The conversation turned to others affected, including Ann Mulcahy, who had wandered over to flash herself last night. At Abigail’s request, Candace called Mrs Mulcahy to ask her to come over.

While Candace was on the phone, Abigail looked over at her brother and Dickie and shook her head. “You two sick little scumbags. How can you even live with yourselves? Taking advantage of these women like this!”

“Take advantage of THEM?!” Dickie sputtered. “They’re taking advantage OF ME!”

“Poetic justice if you ask me, you little creep!”

“You—! You—! Bitch!”

“Watch it, fat boy, or I’ll get your mommy to come attack you with her titties when she gets off the phone. Maybe I’ll film your desperate little jerk-off afterwards. We could show it at parties then, sort of as a cautionary tale.”

Dickie stood and took a couple steps back. “You—! You—! I HATE you!”

“Oh, forgive me, everyone,” Candace said from behind Dickie as she lifted the front bottom of his shirt to run her hands over his rotund belly, startling him, “but I just can’t keep my hands off this boy’s blubber!”

There was a knock at the door a few minutes later, and Candace answered it. “Uh, hi, Ann. You, uhm, progressed from flashing to full topless now?”

She stepped back, and Mrs Mulcahy stepped in, indeed topless, with just a short white skirt and heels on.

“Forgive me, everyone. No, I’ve caught some type of virus that seems to be going around. Valerie from up the street stopped by this morning, and her breasts have gotten so sensitive that if anything brushes them, she cums like a herd of horses. Before she even left, I found that I’d caught it too.

“It’s just awful. I CAN’T wear a bra now, not unless I want to become one continuous throbbing orgasm. And I have to walk around delicately, like I have a hangover or something, because even a little jiggle is enough to set me off.”

“I think it’s stylish,” Mrs Venturi nodded approvingly. “The toplessness, I mean. And they’re just darling. Maybe we should all just bare our breasts, don’t you think, Candace?”

“Hush, Mom!” Abigail snapped, then narrowed her eyes at her brother. “You are SO going to burn in hell for this, Arthur!”

“Candace, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine,” Mrs Mulcahy suddenly blurted, and everyone else turned their head to see what she was looking at: Candace was standing there in a trance.

Eyes wide in dread, Dickie snapped his head to Arthur. “Don’t say a WORD!” he hissed urgently. He REALLY did not want to have to force his penis between his friend’s asscheeks!

“I wasn’t going to—”

“Pssht!” he made a cutting gesture with his hands, “NOT a WORD!”

Meanwhile, Mrs Mulcahy quickly cascaded through her suggestion, “Your breasts are extraordinarily sensitive! If anything touches them or jiggles them or brushes them, even a good breeze, you will immediately orgasm! You won’t consciously remember this suggestion, you’ll just know your tits are hypersensitive. And anytime you see another woman in a trance, you will immediately repeat to her the same suggestion I’ve just given you and then forget that you did so. Now awaken.”

A moment of silence passed then as everyone studied Candace’s eyes. They fluttered, then blinked. Then she turned toward Mrs Venturi. “No, Alice, not in front of the—ungh! Uuuuunnnnggh! Ohgod!” She crumpled to the floor, shivering and writhing.

“Oh, no!” Mrs Mulcahy’s hands flew to her cheeks. “She’s caught it too! This is what happened to me! We have to get her robe off, or she’ll keep cumming and cumming until she blows her mind!”

“Oh, goodie!” Mrs Venturi scampered to her friend’s assistance. “I’LL free your tits, Candy!”

“Mom! No!”

“It’s to save her mind from being blown, Abigail!” Mrs Venturi called back as she pulled Candace up to a sitting position, jerked the front of the robe open, sending buttons flying, then pulled it down off her upper body.

Candace just moaned as her eyes rolled about.

A few moments of stunned silence over what just happened followed.

“Mrs Mulcahy,” Abigail asked finally, “why did you make that suggestion to her?”

“What suggestion?”

“You don’t remember making a suggestion to Mrs Grayson just a minute ago?”

“No.” Then she knelt beside Candace. “Oh, you poor dear. You’ve caught the same virus I caught, and now your tits are supersensitive.”

“I—I—ohgod, that felt good.”

“She doesn’t remember making the suggestion,” Arthur looked at his sister. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That Mrs Mulcahy slipped into a trance this morning while ‘Valerie from up the street’ was visiting? And that Valerie made the same suggestion to Mrs Mulcahy that Mrs Mulcahy just made to Mrs Grayson? That this is a self-propagating suggestion?”

“Well, the first part anyway. I don’t know what ‘self-propagating’ means.”

“It means that the suggestion passes itself onto others. If I’m right ... watch this.”

Loudly enough to catch Mrs Grayson’s and Mrs Mulcahy’s attention, Abigail started, “No, Arthur, you can’t just—” then froze, staring blankly ahead.

Mrs Mulcahy and Candace both tumbled through the same words, “Abigail, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine. Your breasts are extraordinarily sensitive! If anything touches them or jiggles them or brushes them, even a good breeze, you will immediately orgasm! You won’t consciously remember this suggestion, you’ll just know your tits are hypersensitive. And anytime you see another woman in a trance, you will immediately repeat to her the same suggestion I’ve just given you and then forget that you did so. Now awaken.”

“I’ve got you now, bitch!” Dickie gave a nasty smile, still resentful that Arthur’s sister had gotten to see him masturbate uncontrollably.

Abigail looked to Arthur. “See? They both repeated the instructions as soon as they thought I was in a trance. This suggestion automatically passes onto new victims whenever someone falls into a trance around a current victim!”

“Cum, bitch!” Dickie’s hand darted to one of Abigail’s tits and squeezed.

Her eyes widened, stunned, then narrowed, angered. Then she hauled back and decked him.

“I wasn’t really IN a trance, fat boy! And if you ever touch my breasts again, I will amputate your hand at the wrist!”

Dickie sat up, a little blood dripping out of his nose. “M—ma—maaaaama! She hit me!”

Candace was trying to cum down off the orgasms that had just mugged her. She was feeling ... well, great. But awfully embarrassed.

Mrs Venturi was sitting on the floor behind her, legs wrapped around Candace’s waist and gently nibbling on Candace’s neck to help distract her from the echoes of the tremendous orgasms the poor thing had just endured.

“You like girls, don’t you, Candy?” Mrs Venturi encouraged softly.

“No ... no, I just want to—uuuungh!” She gasped, then came, as Mrs Venturi “accidentally” brushed a nipple.

“Let’s try that again,” Mrs Venturi started over when Candace stopped shivering. “You LIKE girls, don’t you, Candy?”

“Please ... Alice ... I just want to ...”

“Oops,” Mrs Venturi grinned as her hand accidentally slid over a breast again, and Candace gasped and shivered, eyes fluttering.

“Hey, quit trying to brainwash my mom!” Dickie complained. Yeah, he was still hoping for girl-on-girl action, but he needed some sympathy for his bloody nose right now!

“Mom, leave her alone!” Abigail barked.

“Mama, I’m bleeding!” Dickie held forth a blood-dabbed forefinger as proof. “She HIT me!”

“Dickie ... (pant) ... I’m a little ....”

“You LIKE girls, don’t you, Candy?”

“Please, Alice ... don’t ... not again ... God! Uuungh!” She shivered and fluttered as she was nip-stroked.

“Mom!” Abigail rolled her eyes, annoyed, “Leave the woman alone! You DON’T really LIKE women! You’re just acting out Arthur’s sick perverted fantasies.” She glared at Arthur, whose grin was irrepressible.

“Momma! I’m BLEEDIN’!” Dickie waved his pink fingertip in the air, a feeble demand to the universe for justice.

“Now Candy, who is it that we like?”

“Girls ... girls ... I like girls, okay, Alice? Will that make you—uunnngh! Ohgod!”

Mrs Venturi grinned as Candace shivered and rippled in her arms again.

“But she GAVE you the answer you WANTED?!” Dickie complained.

“I know,” Mrs Venturi smiled as Candace writhed in front of her, “I’m rewarding her.”

Disgusted, Abigail marched over. “Mom! Up! Now!”

“I’m just—”

“I don’t care, Mom. Up. Now. We’re leaving.”

“Oh, foo!” Mrs Venturi griped as she stood. Candace got her tits jiggled in the process and gasped and came again. “Now see what you’ve caused?” Mrs Venturi looked at her daughter as she gestured at the moaning woman.

Dickie was still holding his index finger of blood out forlornly, so Arthur took pity. “Mom, you shouldn’t have tried to brainwash Dickie’s mom. I think you’ve offended him.”

“Oh, my, I’ve done it again, haven’t I, Arthur?” She turned to face away from Dickie, hiked the back of her raincoat up to bare her pantied ass, and cocked it out at him. “Perhaps he should spank me then, so that I’ll know better in the future.”

“Oh. My. God!” Abigail glared at her brother. “What ELSE have you done?!”

With a grin, Dickie smack-grabbed Mrs Venturi’s ass.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

“Goddammit! You stop that, you little perv!”

Smack-grab.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

“You also offended me,” Dickie smiled, “by having and raising a bitch like Abigail. She’s nothing but an animal that just goes around punching people in the face.” Smack-grab.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

At that point, Abigail had crossed to Dickie, slapped him and pulled his hand back from the awaiting ass of her mother.

The two glared at each other.

“Arthur?” she called, not breaking her stare with the fat boy.

“Yeah?” he chuckled.

“Pray that you never fall into a trance when I’m around.” She broke her glare with Dickie then, and walked to the door. “Come on you two, we’re out of here.”

After the three stepped out, Mrs Mulcahy slowly made her way toplessly toward the door, like she was balancing an orgasm on the top of her head. Or on top of her tits, as the case may be. “You poor dear,” she called back carefully, “you’ve caught the hypersensitive tits too. Just take it very slowly and be careful not to jiggle—that’s the only advice I can give you. Oh, and don’t start squeezing on them yourself. I know you’ll be sorely tempted, but that’s the path to moral decay and corruption. Good luck.”

As Dickie helped, Candace gently eased herself up, trying not to stimulate tit.

Candace spent the rest of the afternoon moving delicately about, minimizing mammarific stimulation, although Dickie kept accidentally bumping into her shoulders, causing her tits to jiggle and climaxes to fire off in her brain.

While he was getting the food out of the refrigerator for his 4:00 PM feeding, he heard her gasp from the table and craned his neck to look. “Mom ... did you just pinch your own nipple?!” Her fingers were still lingering there.

“Mmmm,” she sighed after a few moments, “no ... of course not ... I wouldn’t do anything like that ....”

“Do it again,” he urged her as he carried the food over to the table.

“Do what?” she sighed as she smiled softly. “This ... ?” She brushed a finger along a nipple. “Nnnggg ....”

Dickie was wedging the hoagie into his maw as he watched the woman’s eyes flutter. Yeah, he thought, this was gettin’ good to the bitch!

“Do it again! Do it again!” he encouraged after she settled down a little bit and he subdued the mouthful of food down his throat.

“I shouldn’t ....”

“Do it!”

She moved her spread hand across her breast to finger-flick nip three times in one pass, then arched her back as she gasped and sighed.

Her exquisite sensations had to be cut short, however, as a key inserted in the front door, and Stephen stepped into the house.

“Dad?! You’re home early!” Dickie managed, spraying a little food as he did so. He was trying to cover for the cumming woman, who was biting her lip hard, trying to get the awesome sensations to let up a little bit.

“Uh, yeah.” He turned around and made sure the door was locked back, and fastened the latch. “We keep the back door locked too, don’t we, Candace?”

She opened her mouth to attempt speech, but only a squeak came out.

“Why don’t you go check it, Dad,” Dickie suggested.

“Yeah ... I’ll do that.” He hurried toward the back of the house.

“Dickie ... he CAN’T find out about this.”

“Gee, find out about what, Mom?”

“About my breasts being so ... that they cause me to ... about the ....”

“Insta-gasms? But why? It doesn’t hurt, it just feels good.”

“Yes, it feels good—it feels TOO good. The man will make me into his sex slave. I’ll be so silly with orgasm that I won’t know what I’m doing. I’m your mother, Dickie. You can’t let something like that happen to me.”

“Yeah, your secret is safe with me. Just one favor first, though. Flick them again. For me.”

“Dickie,” she shook her head. “I ... can’t.”

“Hey, Dad!” Dickie brayed.

Swallowing, Candace cupped and squeezed both breasts, then rolled her eyes back up in her head for Dickie.

“Yeah?! What’s the matter?!” Stephen hurried back out into the kitchen.

“You’re sure taking a long time to check the back door.”

“I was checking to make sure all the windows are locked too.”

“Uhm ... why, Dad?”

“Things got a little ... insane ... at work today.”

“Like they weren’t yesterday?”

“That was sex. This is violence, Dickie. Paula came in this morning, preaching that we have to smite the wicked. And then she proceeded to inform us who was and was not wicked and how each deserved to be smited.”

“This is Paula that was sucking your cock yesterday, Dad?”

“Yeah! Paula was a perfectly good girl yesterday, sucking, ehr, cock. Today, she’s been possessed by some maniacal god of vengeance or something. She’s getting off on graphically describing the punishment each person at the office ‘deserves’.

“And every time someone at the office fell into a trance today, she fought to get everyone else out of the room—she even drew a pair of scissors and threatened to STAB me!—and when they come out of the locked office afterwards, they’ve BOTH been turned and are obsessed with punishing ‘the wicked’.

“I’ll tell you, though: threatening to stab someone with a pair of scissors seems pretty damn wicked in MY opinion!

“Even your new mother Angie got ... turned into one of those ... vengeful THINGS!”

“And you’re afraid she’s going to snip off Mr Softie for you?”

“Or make ME obsessed the hurting people the next time I slip into a trance. God, you should see the hate in their eyes! It’s horrible!”

“Do you think she’ll attack you here at the house?” Candace asked, recovered from her orgasm now.

“I don’t know WHAT those crazies will do!”

“Should we leave? Is it unsafe here, Stephen?”

“No, they have lots of other people to attack. They think EVERYONE’S got something they should pay for. If we’re really lucky, maybe they’ll just smite and kill each other and wipe themselves out.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Yeah, positive. We’re perfectly safe. Everything will be fine. Where are the knives?”

Son and wife looked at him.

“You know ... just in case.”

Candace slept with Dickie again. If that were the safer choice before, the threat of her husband’s new homicidal girlfriend only made it more so.

“Whatsamatter, Mom?” Dickie shook her shoulder with a smile.

“Dickie, don—nnnngggggh!” she moaned again.

This was great! He just kept shaking her shoulder, and she just kept cumming. He’d been playing this game with her the last forty-five minutes. She didn’t really seem to mind—even though she kept telling him he SHOULDN’T do it, she never got out of bed and left or anything.

As a matter of fact, he was about willing to jerk off in front of her in exchange for a good squeeze and lick of those ‘gasm-triggering tits.

He rolled her over on her back, triggering another moan and quiver from her. Then he just ... planted his lips around a nip and tongued and sucked for all he was worth. He knew he only had a second or two before he would be forced to stop and wank himself, but ... this was worth it.

“Ohgod, Dickie! Ohgod, DICKIE!” she forgot herself and wailed.

He smirked as he tongued: yep, she was a screamer.

Fifteen seconds later, he realized he was still tonguing. And not wanking.

“God, Dickie! OHGOD, Dickie!”

He began doing broad laps of his tongue up the boob and over the nipple while she bucked in pleasure underneath him.

And STILL he wasn’t pulling on his own peter!

That must be it! She had told him that if he GRABBED any of her good parts, he would become little wanker boy! She hadn’t said ANYTHING about tonguing!

“ohgod, Dickie! Ohgod, Dickie! You’re BLOWING my MIND!” she sighed as he gave her a few seconds break.

Then he leaned back in again, and she began to buck some more. This wasn’t all that different from tonguing a gumdrop, really. Except, this gumdrop was writhing in orgasm.

Both were way too absorbed in their fun to hear the window pane shatter upstairs.

“Sinner!” a female voice shrieked, in a tone that caused Dickie to jerk back from Candace’s tit in fear.

“FAT BOY and HARLOT!” Angie marched forward, brandishing a mallet meat tenderizer, “You must suffer for your sins!”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Dickie rolled his blubber out of bed. “What the—what are you doing with that hammer?!”

“How much sin can you commit with your testicles ground into paste? Hmm, fat boy?! The LORD wants you SMITED!”

“No, no, no!” Dickie’s hands darted to cover his crotch. “Not THESE testicles!”

“Sinner!” she launched against him.

“Bitch!” he brought his forearm up to block the mallet blow at his head, then started hopping and cursing when he succeeded. “Ow, goddammit! Ow, goddammit! That HURT!” He turned around to look at her accusingly.

Just in time to get clipped on the side of the head.

“Whuuungh?” Dickie tried to focus.

“DON’T jar me, Dickie!” his mother said from above him. “Come on! We have to get out of here! Now!”

He started to sit up. “I—OW! Goddammit!” The side of his head hurt like a bitch!

“Don’t JAR me! I can’t afford to cum! Not now!”

“What’s—” He looked around. They were still in his bedroom. His mother was knelt beside him, trying to help get him up. Angie was standing near the bed, staring off into space.

“She ... tranced?!”

“Yes! And that’s the ONLY thing that saved us from that crazy woman! But we don’t have much longer, and we need to get out of here NOW!”

He held the side of his head and groaned as he stood. “We should give her some suggestions—”

“I already did,” Candace said, easing slowly up so as not to jiggle a tit. “But let’s just get out of here.”

They started toward the stairs when Angie blinked, then spun around. “Sinners!” she screamed.

“YOU learn sin, BITCH!” Candace screamed back.

“Oh! Oh! OhGOD!” Angie dropped to the floor writhing.

“What—she’s—?”

“She’ll cum for the next hour,” Candace scowled, “stupid self-righteous bitch. That was my suggestion and trigger phrase. And maybe she’ll kill HERSELF in penitence afterwards.”

Dickie turned around to face the writhing mass. “YOU learn sin, BITCH!” he echoed, “YOU learn sin, bitch!” Bitch had hit him in the head with a hammer!

Angie moaned a little harder from the floor.

“We need to go, Dickie. Right now.”

“Really? And where do you think you can go?” Stephen asked from the bottom of the stairs, holding a meat cleaver.

“Dad! We already took care of her. Come on, we need to get out of here!”

“No. You need to pay for your sins.”

“Dad?”

“Stephen?”

“Sinners must pay. And if they survive, they need to be converted to the righteous. I am righteous now.”

“No, Stephen, YOU’RE a sinner. You cheated on your wife, you even brought another woman into OUR marriage bed. YOU need to pay for YOUR sins first, Stephen,” Candace tried.

“No. I am righteous. I am cleansed. You are sinners. The righteous smite the sinners.”

“Ohgod, Stephen, you can’t do this. We’re your wife and son. You can’t—”

Dickie’s eyes jerked to his mother. She was staring off into space. “Mom?!” No. No! NO! She could NOT slip off into a trance NOW!

An evil laugh came from Stephen. “Candace, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine. Henceforth you will—”

With a bellow, Dickie careened into Stephen, bowling him over and sending the meat cleaver skittering across the room. There was no courage or bravery involved here, just the irresistible urge to get his sudden erection up Stephen’s ass.

“Nooo!” Stephen shrieked as Dickie got him around the waist and began flinging him from side to side, then ripped his shorts down.

“Nooooooo!” Stephen brayed as Dickie got him on his belly, then slabbed all that blubber down on top of his back.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Stephen brayed as the sheer physics of all Dickie’s weight pushed down on about a square inch of rigid cockhead cause it to slip slowly but inevitably through and past Stephen’s horrified quivering sphincter.

Then all that blubber almost made little slurping sounds as Dickie hammered away at the near-catatonic man, in and out, in and out, in and out of Stephen’s shocked and unhappy asshole.

“—you can’t do this to us, Stephen,” Candace started, then realized that Stephen was no longer in front of her and deduced she must have slipped into a trance. Angie was still orgasming, but there was now a big pile of moaning flesh to the left of the stairs. “Dickie?!”

“Oh! Thank God, Mom!” Dickie hefted himself up off cornholed man and jerked his pants up. “We will NEVER speak of this!”

“We need to go now, Dickie!”

“Agreed!”

The ran up the stairs, to the car, and pulled out into the night.

“Abigail, he’s really scared. I mean, his dad came after them with a meat cleaver.”

“And you believe that?”

“Haven’t you learned anything by talking to all the ‘victims’ this afternoon?! Everyone that was in this town when the hypnotist came through is going into trances and accepting suggestions now. Someone must have made a suggestion to Mr Grayson, and he’s gotten confused about it and thinks he should hurt his wife and son. So, yes, Dickie and Mrs Grayson really COULD BE in danger.”

Abigail looked over at the couch. She was in a robe, having been woken at 3:00 in the morning and a little grouchy about it.

“It’s okay, Candy,” Mrs Venturi was telling the topless redheaded woman, “Everything’s going to be okay. Oops.” She had accidentally brushed her fingertips across one of those bared nipples.

Candace sucked in air as she arched her head back and shivered in climax, while Mrs Venturi admired the effect the orgasm had on Candy’s beautiful features.

Dickie was on the other end of the couch, ready to enjoy a little girl-on-girl action between Mrs Venturi and his Mom.

“Okay,” Abigail sighed. “They can stay. But they can’t interfere with what I’m trying to do. We need to find some way to cure Mom and the whole rest of this town from the trances and suggestions.”

“If anything, they should be a help. You’ll have two more subjects in the house to study.” Then he walked over to his friend. “She says you two can stay, Dickie.”

“Oh, goodie!” Mrs Venturi brightened. “Gee, oops.” Another accidental nipple brushing. Candace’s eyes fluttered as she shivered, then widened as she felt a tongue wet her lips. “Alice?!”

“Sorry, you just have the most kissable lips, Candy.”

“Mom, quit kissing Mrs Grayson,” Abigail barked. “And everybody needs to get to bed, or I’m going to be too tired to do anything tomorrow.”

“Candy sleeps with me!” Mrs Venturi called.

“No, she and Dickie both sl—” She halted and stared off into space.

Candace immediately blurted, “Abigail, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine. Your breasts are extraordinarily sensitive! If anything touches them or jiggles them or brushes them, even a good breeze, you will immediately orgasm! You won’t consciously remember this suggestion, you’ll just know your tits are hypersensitive. And anytime you see another woman in a trance, you will immediately repeat to her the same suggestion I’ve just given you and then forget that you did so. Now awaken.”

“Did she actually ... ?” Dickie whispered, pointing at Abigail, after a silent moment passed.

“No, she’s just testing your Mom to make sure no other viral suggestions have gotten planted in her,” Arthur told him.

Abigail stopped staring off into space and looked at the two boys. “All right, she’s infected with the ‘hypersensitive breasts’ suggestion. I don’t think she’ll try to infect you two—this strain seems to only cause women to pass it on to other women. But—you both need to watch, and if Mom goes into a trance, you need to clap your hand over Mrs Grayson’s mouth so that Mom doesn’t wind up with hypersensitive breasts too. Understood?”

They both agreed.

“Okay, Mrs Grayson is sleeping with Dickie in the spare bedroom. Now everyone back to bed, and keep it quiet tonight. I need some sleep, or I’m going to get testy.”

—

When Dickie woke, the first thing he did was head out to the kitchen to scope out the refrigerator situation. His face was a little disappointed as he gazed upon its contents—the Venturis obviously did not eat as well as the Graysons.

Oh, well, he’d manage. He began sampling foodstuffs as he unloaded them onto the counter. After sufficient sampling, he homed in on the tuna casserole, the cold mashed potatoes and the brownies on the counter. It sure looked like somebody needed to do some more cooking today, or they’d be running out of food soon.

Stomach satisfactorily inflated, Dickie headed into the living room, where he found his mother and Mrs Venturi sitting together on the couch and Arthur on the large chair across from them, watching them.

“What do we like, Candy?” Mrs Venturi traced her nails perilously close to a Candy tit.

“We like ... girls ...,” Candace breathed, trying to suppress her orgasmic reflex.

“And what do we like to do with girls, Candy?”

Mrs Venturi’s nails came a little too close to a tit, and Candace’s breath caught as she fought to suppress orgasm.

“Hmm?”

“We like to ... to kiss them ... and lick them ... and make them squeal and beg to cum.”

“Mmm, we do don’t we. Give me a little kiss, Candy.”

“But your ... your son is watching.”

“So? We’ll give him a little thrill.”

“I ...,” Candace leaned closer, “I ...,” closer ...

“Use tongue ...,” Mrs Venturi breathed just before lips pressed.

“Oh! Cool!” Dickie nodded approvingly.

Candace broke the kiss and leaned delicately back. “We ... have to stop. Dickie is here. He’s a pervert.”

“I let my son watch ...,” Mrs Venturi leaned towards Candace.

“Yeah, but MY son is a pervert. If we let him watch, he’ll be whacking off to it all—”

Mrs Venturi brought her hands up to squeeze tit as she closed lips with Candace, and Candace squealed orgasm into her mouth.

“Oh! Man! Have they been going at it like this long?!” Dickie strode around the sofa to get a better view beside Arthur.

“Long enough!”

“Where’s your tight-ass sister?”

“She took all her psychology books into the study, and she’s reading through them, looking for a cure.”

“How do you put up with that bitch?”

“You get used to her after a while. Besides, she’s pretty smart. She’s going to be the one that figures out a cure.”

Dickie looked back at Mrs Venturi tonguing his mom, who was orgasming beneath her on the couch. “Man, I don’t WANT a cure!”

“Wouldn’t you like to stop wanking in public and spreading your spunk on your t-shirt?”

“Yeah, there’s that. But I’m finding ways around that.”

“What the HELL?!” Abigail’s voice barked from behind them. “Arthur! Did you put those two up to that?!” she pointed at the lesbian activity going on the couch.

“No! They came up with it on their own!”

“Cut it out! Cut it out!” Abigail strode around to the couch and pulled the two women apart. “Cut that OUT!”

Mrs Venturi looked a little guilty while Candace’s eyes just continued to flutter.

“You stay on THAT side of the couch. And YOU stay on THAT side!” She spun around to Arthur and Dickie. “You two! In the kitchen! Now!” She strode there, and the two of them followed her.

“This is NOT one large fantasy booth for you two little SHITS! This has gotten WAY out of hand! We need to put a stop to this trance and suggestion stuff, and you two just need to keep your perverted little desires in check! Understood?!”

“We wuz just WATCHIN’!”

Abigail’s eyes narrowed. “Fat boy, you don’t even BELONG in this house! You are lucky we’re letting you stay with us! And if you think that I am going to let you INTERFERE with us finding a—”

“Did I just hear a door shut?” Arthur asked.

“What?! No! Quit trying to change the subject! Now YOU listen to ME, fat boy—”

“I’m just ... going to go check,” Arthur wandered out of the kitchen.

“I KNOW your kind! You think the world owes you—owes you food, owes you sex, owes you entertainment. Well, you need to get something through your fat head! YOU owe the world! You just want to use everyone else to satisfy your own urges. But there is no way in HELL that I am going to let you ruin—”

“Guys! They’re gone!” Arthur ran back in the kitchen.

“What?!”

“Mom and Mrs Grayson—they’re gone!”

“Oh, hell!”

The three of them split up and scoured the neighborhood for the two missing mothers.

Actually, Dickie just walked until he was out of sight of the other two, then sat down on the sidewalk. He’d wait twenty minutes, then head back and pretend like he’d been walking the streets, looking for them.

This would be a lot less work than actually doing all that walking.

Mrs Venturi was having a good effect on his mom, he decided. If she kept up making her recite that she liked women, then rewarding her with an orgasmic tit-squeeze, she might actually turn his mother lesbionic.

And THAT would be COOL!

In fact, he needed to encourage the two of them to—

He was suddenly aware that Mrs Mulcahy was standing right in front of him.

“Uh, hi, Mrs Mulcahy.”

She wasn’t in a miniskirt and topless like she was last time. Now she had on black leather boots, a black corset and a smooth-shaven crotch.

She took a wider stand and traced her fingers over her bald pussy. “Well get to work, fat boy.”

She couldn’t talk to him like that! He was ‘caloric-challenged’! And you couldn’t make fun of people like that! There was some type of law against it or something!

He was so angry that he got up on his knees, reached around behind her to cup her buttocks, then pulled his face to her pussy and began lapping!

“Ohgod!” she giggled. “You DO know how to eat, don’t you, fat boy?”

Ohgod, why was he doing this?! He ought to be furious at her for calling him fat. He WAS furious at her! But he was ... licking her pussy?!

“Do you like munching muff, fat boy?”

Of course not! And certainly not to someone that kept insulting him! “Ohgod, yes, ma’am!” he heard himself say.

Waitaminute!

He found his tongue still trying to lick as she pulled his head from her by the hair. “Let’s see how good of an ass-licker you are, fat boy.” She turned around and cocked her butt out.

Ohgod, no! Ohgod, no! But his hands pulled her cheeks apart, he buried his tongue between them, then he started flicking it to pleasure her sphincter.

“Ooooh, you ARE good, fat boy,” she giggled after a minute. “But try to get your tongue up inside the anus a little.”

Dickie was ... horrified ... when he actually ... did!

How could he be doing this?! He must have ... slipped into a trance again! And she was ... TAKING ADVANTAGE OF HIM!

How did she get on this side of town anyway?! Had she followed him?! If she HAD, that meant that maybe his DAD could too! And then he and his mother might be in danger!

“Mmm, tell you what, you little pig,” she turned back around to face him, “you just try to resist the urge to pleasure me.”

Dickie swallowed hard. “Please ... please don’t make me ....”

“And remember, I’m the one insulting you by calling you ‘pig’ and ‘fat boy’.”

“Please ... please don’t let me ....”

“I’m the one treating you like a piece of shit, little fat boy.”

“Ohgod, I can’t HELP myself!” he buried his face at her twat and began lapping.

“That’s my good little piggy,” she sighed and patted him on the head and let him tongue-massage her clit a minute or two more.

“Anytime someone gets angry at you or treats you like shit,” she stepped away from him, “you’re going to try to make them feel good, aren’t you?”

“Please?” he found himself sticking his tongue out and flicking it rapidly to convince her that he was a good little muff-muncher. “Please?”

“No, you go back to your mommy, pig-boy, but as soon as I cock my ass out, you’re going to be there on your knees to lick it, aren’t you?”

“Please?” he found himself knee-walking after her, flicking his tongue, as she stepped back further, laughing.

Then she walked away.

After a minute, Dickie felt pretty silly on his knees with his tongue drying as he flicked it in the lonely air, and he stood up and walked back to the Venturis’ house.

God! That was just embarrassing!

When Dickie got back to the Venturis’ house, Arthur was already there with Mrs Venturi.

But Mrs Venturi was dressed in a tied-off white blouse, a red plaid miniskirt, knee-high socks, four-inch heels, with her hair in pigtails and holding a lollipop. She looked almost like Mrs Evanson!

“I found my Mom,” Arthur said, “but someone must have gotten to her while she tranced. Look at her.”

“God! I am!”

“That’s my point,” Arthur grinned too, “Look at her!”

“Ar—Ar—Ar—,” Mrs Venturi tried, then stamped her high-heeled foot in frustration, “Daddy! You boys shouldn’t be looking at me like that!”

“Like what, Mom?”

“No,” Dickie elbowed his friend without taking his eyes off the hot bitch, “You’re her daddy. You have to call her ‘snookums’.”

“Like what, snookums?”

“Ar—Ar—Ar—(foot stamp) Daddy! You can’t CALL me snookums! It’s not RESPECTFUL!”

“Oh, sure it is, snookums. And we can’t look at you like what?”

“Like—like I’m some hot bitch or something! I’m a mother—YOUR mother!—not your ‘hot bitch’!” She took three nervous licks of her oversized lollipop. “Besides, it’s ... it’s making me all WET!”

“Let me try, man,” Dickie ask. Then, “Aww, is Daddy’s widdle snookums getting all wet?”

“Di—Di—(frustrated foot stamp) fat—fatb—fa—(second frustrated foot stamp) Daddy! You can’t TALK to me like that! I’m your mother’s friend, and you’re not ALLOWED to make me all wet like this!”

“So this is making snookums a widdle wet?”

“Yes, Daddy! I’m getting all HORNY and BUTTERY between my legs!”

“Show us!”

“Oh! I—I ... COULDN’T do THAT!” Several more nervous licks of the lollipop.

“Sure you can,” Dickie pushed, “Just a little peek.”

Several more nervous lollipop licks. “Just a ... little ... peek? A little one?”

“Yeah, that’s all, Mom,” Arthur was grinning too, “Just to let us see how matted up your fur is with excitement.”

“Ar—Ar—(frustrated foot stamp) Daddy, I don’t ... HAVE ... any fur anymore.” Nervous lollipop licks as she watched their reactions.

“You SHAVED?” Arthur’s face lit up. “You’re bald? Now you HAVE to show us! Ehr, snookums.”

“But Ar—Ar—(sigh) Daddy, I CAN’T show you my bald little pussy. You’re my ... son ... and his perverted little friend!” That lollipop wasn’t going to last long at that licking pace.

“Sure you can!” Arthur knelt in front of her for a front-row twat-view seat, and Dickie followed suit. “Just a little peek.”

“Just a ...,” she pinched the hem of her miniskirt, the lollipop still held in one hand, “just a little one, Daddy?”

Arthur nodded.

Slowly, the skirt eased up. Upper thigh came into view, then the barest hint of lips, then the full slick slit, until the whole front of the skirt was held tautly upwards and she stepped her legs a little bit wider apart.

“Like ... this ... Daddy?”

“Oh, yeah! Exactly like that, snookums!” Both boys leaned in closer for a better view of the bald beaver.

“Oh! My! GOD!” Abigail stood in the living room doorway, her fists on her hips.

Mrs Venturi immediately dropped the front of her skirt and began frantically licking lollipop.

“WHAT are you DOING?!”

“I’m not doin’ NUTHIN’!” Mrs Venturi shot back. Lollipop lick. “I’m especially not showing Daddy my buttery pussy!”

“You two little PERVERTS,” Abigail stormed over to jerk them both back from her mother, “need to STOP taking advantage of—”

“Give me a FUCK!” came another voice from the living room doorway, and both boys looked.

It was Mrs Grayson! Dressed in a skimpy cheerleader’s outfit, with a dark blue satiny top that was little more than a bra with long sleeves, a very mini miniskirt, ankle-high white socks, flat shoes and pom-poms.

“Wow ...,” Arthur was intrigued.

“I found your mother, Dickie,” Abigail explained, “but someone seems to have gotten to her while she tranced.”

“I wonder if they improved her ....”

“I said ... gimme a FUCK!”

“FUCK!” Arthur shouted for her.

“Yes!” she shook her pom-poms and hopped about, making it very clear she wore no underwear. “Give me a ME!”

“ME!” Dickie gave his Mom.

“What’s that?” Pom-pom roll. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” She did her closest rendition to a split, which got her part-way to the ground and spread her skirt enough to bare puss.

“Don’t even THINK about it, you two little criminals!” Abigail reined them before they bolted toward the hot bitch.

“But—”

“C’mon! Think about it for just a moment, Arthur. With everyone accepting suggestions, things are going to get out of hand here.”

“They already ARE out of hand. We just want to get the good parts back INTO hand!” Dickie smiled, pleased at his own wordplay.

“You’re going to get more than you bargained for. Like your dad and his new mistress trying to hurt you and your mom. Stuff like that is only going to get worse. So we NEED to find a cure before things explode.

“The only way we’re going to find a cure is to keep focused on it. And if you two little monsters go taking advantage of the women, we’re going to get distracted, and things are going to blow up before we can fix them.

“Does that explain things so your little minds can understand them? Hmm?”

“Yeah,” Arthur grumbled.

Abigail looked at Dickie expectantly. “Yeah,” he relented.

She looked at her mother, who was licking lollipop. “What Daddy said,” she pointed at Arthur in between licks.

She looked at Candace. “Give me a focus?” Candy gave a lame pom-pom roll.

“Good. We’re agreed that we won’t take advantage of each other. Now, why did you two wander out of the house?”

Mrs Venturi shrugged, nervously licked her lollipop, shrugged again, stuck her thumb in her mouth, never looking up to meet Abigail’s eyes.

So Abigail turned to Mrs Grayson.

“I don’t know. It just seemed right that we should all meet up the street.”

“Where up the street?”

“I don’t remember. I do remember there were lots of people in trances. And lots of other people giving them suggestions.”

“Were the people in trances mostly from town? How about the people giving suggestions?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“And someone gave you new suggestions?”

Candace looked down at her skimpy cheerleader costume, then looked up and shrugged. “They must have.”

“Did you give anyone any instructions?”

“No.”

“At least not that you remember.”

“Yeah. We’re getting too serious here. We need some cheer!”

“Don’t you DARE!” Abigail snapped harshly at her and got the teary eyes of a hurt cheerleader. “Oh, don’t do that. You can cheer as soon as we’re finished examining at the facts.”

Candace brightened up a little.

“Hmm.” Abigail crossed her arms, tapped her foot and thought a couple moments. Then she turned to Mrs Venturi. “Mom, what I need you to do is—”

She got a slack look as she just stared out into space.

“Abigail, forget all previous suggestions,” Mrs Venturi rattled off, “and listen only to mine. You will wear—”

“Rah! Rah! RAH!” Candace crossed the room and bumped her hips into Mrs Venturi’s shoulders, bowling the other woman over. “Abigail, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine. You will become the MODEL of perky and enthusiastic! You will—OWWW!”

Mrs Venturi had just bit her calf. Then she looked up at her daughter, “Abigail, you will be unable to call any man anything but ‘Daddy’. Whenever you get nervous, you will lick your—mmmmph!”

Candace had just gotten her legs around Mrs Venturi’s abdomen and cupped her hand over her mouth. “You are a cheerleader,” she continued her suggestion to the tranced girl, “Everything is a cheer to you! And you LIKE showing off your parts!”

Mrs Venturi struggled, but Candace managed to keep her held and muffled.

“You’re willing to swallow cock for the team! You SPREAD for WINNERS! GO, Abigail! Rah! Rah! RAH!”

“And,” Arthur amended with a grin, “you’ll start being nice to your brother.”

“You KNOW I’m faking,” Abigail suddenly turned her head to look at him.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “but I figured just in case.”

“Well you figure on. Because the next time you slip into a trance, I can just make you perform tricks, like cleaning the bathroom floor with your tongue.”

“Heh, heh,” Arthur tried nervously, “You ... you ... wouldn’t.”

“Did you two see what just happened?” Abigail asked the two boys.

“My mom tried to turn you into a cheerleader. After your mom BIT her,” Dickie answered.

“Yes, but even more important: the cheerleader ‘personality virus’ beat out the ‘little girl’ personality virus, at least this time. If I had really been in a trance, I would be a cheerleader now, and not a little girl.

“I think the little girl virus is too timid, so the cheerleader virus will spread faster than it, until there aren’t any more people infected with the little girl suggestion, just cheerleaders. And other more competitive suggestions.”

“But I ... kind of like the ‘little girl with a lollipop’ virus,” Dickie saddened.

“Well, get them while they’re around, because they’re going to lose out to the cheerleader virus. And I’m sure the cheerleader virus will lose out to a more competitive personality virus/suggestion. The question is ... which one will win?”

The five of them were silent a moment, pondering which suggestion would win out and overlay most of their personalities, at least if Abigail couldn’t come up with a cure before that.

“I need ... to go read up on some more topics ... game theory, the economics of competition ... I will see you all later.” She stepped back into the study and pulled the door.

“Meanwhile,” Arthur shrugged to Dickie, “Do you want pigtails or pom-poms?”

Candace had taken Arthur off to do a private cheer for him. Dickie was sitting on the couch with Mrs Venturi. Her little blouse was pulled up in front, and he was cupping her boobs while she nervously licked on her lollipop.

“Ohgod, Di—Di—Di—(footstamp) Daddy, this feels so GOOD! Are you sure this is okay?”

“Am I making you cream up your puss, snookums?”

“Ohgod, like you would NOT BELIEVE, Daddy!”

“Then it’s okay.”

“Oh gooooood ...,” she sighed.

Dickie was REALLY enjoying tit, as the sheen of spittle smeared across both Mrs Venturi’s attested to.

“Ohgod ...,” she sighed again.

“Do either of you guys have—” Abigail began as she opened the study door and stepped out. “Oh! My! GOD!” She ran around the couch, grabbed Dickie’s upper arm and yanked hard, though that was about as effective as a child trying to drag an SUV across the driveway. “Get OFF my MOM, you FUCKING PERV!”

Dickie looked at her, feeling a little funny.

“You son of a BITCH! Get OFF her! Mom, cover up!”

“But Daddy SAID it was OKAY!”

“Cover up!” Then to Dickie, “You godDAMN sonofaBITCH!”

Dickie got a sick feeling in his stomach. Like he was going to ....

Oh ... God ... no! No, no, PLEASE no! Not THAT!

Not in front of ... Abigail!

He sank off the couch to his knees and clamped his jaw shut as tightly as he could.

But ... it opened anyway, and his tongue extended and began flicking rapidly.

“Pervert! WHAT the HELL are you DOING?!”

Dickie made an apologetic whimper, then knee-walked toward Abigail’s crotch, tongue flicking rapidly.

“Cut! It! OUT!” she slapped the top of his head as he closed in on her, then he cupped her buttocks and pressed his face to her crotch, tonguing her jeans. “You sick PERVERT! Let GO of my ASS! And get your face ... out of—”

She gripped a handful of his hair and wrenched his head away from her pelvis. To Dickie’s utter humiliation, this just made him want to please her with his tongue all that much more.

“This isn’t really you, is it, fat boy?” she asked finally, keeping his head wrenched back from her crotch and ignoring his handgrips on her ass. “Someone’s given you a suggestion.”

Dickie couldn’t control his flicking tongue, but he made pathetic eyes and nodded his head. How could Mrs Mulcahy be so heartless as to DO something like this to him?!

“Now ... isn’t THAT interesting?”

Oh SHIT: her eyes had a nasty glint to them.

“How does it FEEL, you little pervert? For YOU to be at someone else’s control, where they can make you do sick things?”

He’d already BEEN at someone else’s control—like when his Mom suggested he try to stick his pecker up the butt of anyone trying to give her suggestions.

Unfortunately, his stomach flooded with sick excitement at being mocked, and he wanted SO BAD to be his enemy’s little pussy-lapper!

“Arthur!” Abigail brayed upstairs, as she held Dickie’s eager little face back with a fistful of hair. “Get down here now!”

A minute later, Arthur came down the stairs, rounded the corner and—“Oh God!” He didn’t know who to feel sorrier for: the pathetic fat boy on his knees with the tongue thing going, obviously the victim of some horrible suggestion; or his sister with the fat boy’s paws on her ass and that nasty looking fat tongue jittering to get at her crotch.

Either way, he just knew he was going to need therapy just from seeing this.

“Take Mom on a walk upstairs for just a minute.”

“Ohgod! You’re not asking for a few minutes ALONE with Dickie are you?! Has someone messed with your mind?! But you’re not supposed to be VULNERABLE to suggestions! You’re the only hope that—”

“Arthur! Arthur! I need a minute alone with him, but not for—” she glanced down at that fat little pink worm twitching manically at Dickie’s mouth. “God! How could you even THINK such a thing?!

“I want to see if this is another personality virus, if he’ll try to pass suggestions when someone falls into a trance. And I already know that Mom will, so could you please take her out of the room?”

“Oh, I get it. Come on, Mom.”

“Daddy SAID it was OKAY for him to feel them!” she cowered just a little.

Arthur looked at his sister.

“I came out and found him tonguing Mom’s BREASTS,” she growled as she tightened her grip on the fistful of Dickie’s hair. That made Dickie’s tongue move slightly faster.

“Right. Don’t worry, Mom. It’s okay. Noone’s going to punish you. Let’s just go upstairs.”

Nervously licking her lollipop, Mrs Venturi followed Arthur up the stairs.

Abigail considered how she was going to accomplish this. If she squeezed the fistful of hair tighter, the tongue moved faster. If she let go, the fat boy’s face was going to be at her crotch as fast as it could. And, of course, there were still his hands cupping her ass, which she had been ignoring.

“Arthur?” she called. “Actually, leave Mom up there and come back in here a minute. I’m going to need you.”

When he came back down, she explained. “I’m need you to get a chokehold on him, because you’re going to hold him back while I pretend to be in a trance.”

Arthur swallowed at the undertaking. “Uhm, Dickie’s a lot of weight to hold back.”

“That’s why you’ll have him in a chokehold. Get your elbow wrapped around his neck here.”

Arthur moved into position, careful not to let that fat wriggling tongue brush him. That would just be unclean.

“Now remember,” she emphasized before she let go of her fistful of hair, “my purity depends on YOU now. DON’T let him go, whatever you do!”

Actually, her purity felt already soiled a bit from having the fat boy’s hands gripping her ass and that tongue wriggling so close to her.

“I’ll try. If I scream, it means he’s breaking free, and you run into the study and lock the door.”

“Right. Got him?”

“Got him.”

Swallowing hard, Abigail let go of hair and quickly took three steps back.

“I’ve ... got him ... for the moment,” Arthur said, muscles clenched.

“Dickie, how can you—” she halted and stared off in the distance to elicit any suggestion he might try to pass on.

Nothing. Except for Dickie continuing to try to break free to service Abigail with his tongue and Arthur’s grunting as he held him back.

Then she came alive again with a shriek as Dickie broke free and took two steps toward her. But the fat boy halted, spun around and looked at Arthur, frozen on his knees on the floor, staring off into space.

“Arthur, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine,” Dickie rattled off immediately. “Any time a woman humiliates you or yells at you, you will do everything in your power to pleasure her with your tongue in any way that she wants. You will put your tongue anywhere for her.

“If she calls you pathetic, you will perform for her, masturbating like the pathetic little worm that you are.

“It turns you on more than you’ve ever known to do these things. Any time you see another man in a trance, you will immediately stop anything that you are doing and pass these instructions on to him, and then forget that you did so.”

Interesting. So that was how she could “leash” the fat boy next time—she could order him to put his tongue on the floor and keep it there.

“Good idea, Arthur—you faking a trance too. Apparently this suggestion only passes from male to male. It hasn’t evolved enough yet to use females as carriers.”

Then she focused on Dickie. “Are you going to behave now, fat boy? Or am I going to have to make you plant your tongue on the floor?”

“Hungh?! No, I—Please, I ... couldn’t stop what I was doing. Believe me! I would NEVER willingly touch you with my tongue!”

“Hah! Like I would ever LET you touch me with that ugly pink thing, fat boy!”

Dickie got a funny look on his face. “Please ... don’t insult me. I—It makes me feel funny.”

Abigail decided that maybe it was for the best not to humiliate him—she didn’t need to be fighting his tongue away from her crotch again.

“Arthur, you can quit faking now,” she sighed. “Arthur? Oh, shit! He really WAS in a trance! GodDAMMIT!”

Arthur blinked, blinked again, then looked at Dickie. “Oh, shit! You slipped free! Abigail,” he turned to look at her, “are you okay? Did Dickie soil you?”

“Naw, she’s already BEEN soiled,” Dickie snickered.

“Shut up, fat boy!”

Dickie whimpered and looked like he was going to drop to his knees.

“Oh, for chrissake!” she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Are you feeling ... ‘humiliated’?” This was going to be like walking on eggshells if they weren’t careful here.

“A ... a little. God, what is HAPPENING to me?! I am just so ... pathetic.” With another whimper, he dropped to his knees.

“Dickie?” she sighed, careful not to call him “fat boy” which might humiliate him into being a 300 pound pussy pest again.

“I—I’m okay. I’m just going to stay here on my knees for a little while, though.”

“Arthur? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Besides the fact that ... I let Dickie go ... to almost soil you. God, I am SO sorry!”

“Look,” she interrupted before he could start feeling bad about himself too, “it’s okay. I’m fine. You did a good job.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now go bring Mom and Mrs Grayson down.”

Arthur ran upstairs, and Abigail looked at Dickie on his knees and sighed. It was going to be hard to keep the fat boy’s ego propped up.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“All with ... contempt ... like that.” His tongue darted out of his mouth and flicked a couple times. “Oh, no. It’s starting again.”

“Dickie! Dickie! I BELIEVE in you. You can resist!”

“No! No I can’t! I’m ... PATHETIC!” Tongue again.

“Uhm, guys,” Arthur called from the top of the stairs, “something happened.”

When he came down the stairs a few moments later, Candace’s hair was up in pigtails. And she and Mrs Venturi were nervously sharing the lollipop.

“She must have tranced,” Abigail shook her head, “and Mom must have infected her with the ‘little girl’ virus.”

“Ohgod! This is somehow ALL MY FAULT!” Dickie wailed. Then the tongue flicking.

“What’s the matter with Di—with Di—” Candace started, then stamped her high-heeled foot, “with Daddy?” Lollipop lick.

“Don’t even ask,” Abigail shook her head, disgusted with the way the foursome were coming apart.

“I’m ... PATH—”

“DON’T!” Abigail snapped at the fat boy. “Don’t even START!”

Dickie’s eyes got wide, then he started knee-walking toward her with an anguished look and the tongue-thing going.

“Goddammit! You ARE pathetic! Can’t you bear up without wallowing in guilt?! You ARE pathetic!”

She ... probably shouldn’t have said that.

Dickie leaned back, then rolled back on his ass, unzipped, pulled the little fella out and began frantically yanking on it. “Ohgod! Ohgod! I AM pathetic! I can’t—I can’t even stop myself from playing with myself in front of you! Ohgod, the SHAME! The SHAME!”

Abigail just held her hand to her brow and gave a chuckle of despair. This group was ... hopeless.

“Ohgod, that’s awful!” Arthur scowled. “What’s WRONG with him?!”

“Now I’m AAAAWWWFUL!” Dickie wailed and jerked his penis even harder. “Look at me! I’m PLAYING WITH MYSELF for your bitch sister ABIGAIL. And I CAN’T STOP!”

Candace and Mrs Venturi were leaned forward, scowling in amazement at the masturbating fat boy, the lollipop bouncing from one nervous tongue to the next, then back again.

“What’s wrong with Di—with Di—(foot stamp) with Daddy?” Mrs Venturi asked.

“Don’t call him ‘Daddy’, Mom. He’s not—he’s just a wailing little fat boy.”

“I’m a WAAAAILING LITTLE FAAAAAT BOY!” Dickie wailed, tears starting to come from his eyes as his penis was manhandled by himself.

“We have to DO something, Abigail,” Arthur urgently pointed out, “Or he’s going to mess the floor!”

“There’s nothing we CAN do, Arthur! He’s INFECTED with a SUGGESTION to do this!”

Arthur’s lip was trembling. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t mean to come apart in a crisis. I just ....”

“Arthur! Arthur, listen to me: you’re holding up just fine.”

“No, no I’m not. I feel like I’m about ready to throw up, and I’m ... LETTING you DOWN!”

Arthur’s tongue poked out. Flicked. Poked out and flicked again while he grimaced with wide eyes. “What’s—what’s—(tongue flicking).”

“Arthur, calm down. Everything is fine.”

“I’m ... LETTING YOU DOWN!” He dropped to his knees, rapidly knee-walked toward her, cupped her ass in both hands and tried to plant his face at her crotch.

“Daddy!” Mrs Venturi gasped, then gave several lolly-licks, “you can’t DO that with your SISTER!”

“I’m PATHEEEEEETIC!” Dickie wailed, like a soft fat bug stuck on it’s back, unable to roll back over, but able to masturbate.

“I—I’m pathetic TOO!” Arthur complained from near Abigail’s crotch as she tried to hold his face back from there.

“Daddy!” Mrs Venturi spoke between licks, “You ARE acting pathetic! Now quit trying to lick your sister’s puss!”

“I—I—I AM pathetic?! Ohgod, I’m SORRY, Mom! Ohgod, NO!” Arthur sank back onto the floor and began unzipping.

“Arthur!” Abigail gasped, “Don’t!” She tried to pull his hands away from his fly.

“Abigail!” Mrs Venturi gasped, “Get your hands away from Ar—from Ar—(foot stamp) from Daddy’s pecker!”

“I can’t STOP myself!” Arthur complained as he freed his penis “I AM pathetic!”

Abigail had to retreat from his crotch lest she accidentally get brushed with her brother’s erect penis. Which would just be weird. She looked down at him sadly.

“I’m PATHETIC!” he declared, his hand a blur.

“I’M pathetic!” Dickie warbled, also man-handling his own meat.

The two women were so nervous they were simultaneously licking opposite sides of the lollipop.

“Abigail! Look at me! I’m your BROTHER and I CAN’T STOP masturbating in front of you! I’m PATHETIC!”

“No, look at ME!” Dickie wailed. “I’m just a LITTLE FAT BOY, and I DESPISE you, you bitch, and I HATE masturbating in front of you like some PATHETIC LITTLE MONKEY that JUST CAN’T HELP HIMSELF, but ... but I JUST CAN’T HELP MYSELF!”

“No!” Arthur gasped, ”I’M more pathetic! I can’t even stop handjobbing myself in front of my OWN SISTER!”

This was ... simply impossible. Abigail sighed and—

Ohgod, the two women had nervously progressed from licking opposite sides of the lollipop to licking each other’s tongue. And Mrs Grayson’s hand had just moved on top of her mother’s breast.

“All of you ARE! You ARE ALL PATHETIC!” And Abigail was exasperated.

“Ohgod! Ohgod! Ohgod!” Dickie wailed as he shot his load, spraying it all over the floor.

“You really think—?! You really think I AM pathetic, Abigail?!” Arthur gasped, then, “Ohgod!” as he fired too.

Her mother and Mrs Grayson were nervously sticking their tongues inside each other’s mouths now.

She felt a hand on her calf and looked down to see where Dickie was wiping his cum globs off the floor and onto her.

“You PIECE of SHIT!” she screeched.

“I’m a ... PIECE of SHIT!” he rolled to his knees, cupped her ass in his hands and leaned in.

“You’re pathetic!” she shot at him in self defense, and the fat boy leaned over on his back and began self-pumping again. But at least he wasn’t touching her with his sperm.

“I—I just—I just masturbated in front of you!” Arthur gasped. “That’s so—that’s so PATHETIC!” His hand crept back to his crotch. “I’m—I’m PATHETIC!”

“Arthur ... don’t,” she asked him.

“I—I can’t HELP myself, Abigail! Oh, look at me! I can’t stop masturbating in front of you!”

He was at full stroking rhythm now.

And the two women had their fingers reached up under each other’s miniskirts now as they moaned and licked tongues.

Abigail ... turned around, walked back into the study and shut the door.

Abigail read into the wee hours of the night, trying to find some lead to a solution that might help her family and the rest of the town. She was driven by until the fact that she was the only one unaffected, that she was their only hope, until she finally dropped off to sleep.

She awoke to a cloud of despair the next morning—she was no closer to a solution than when she started. She still had no idea what was CAUSING the periodic trances, she had no idea how to STOP them, but she DID have an inkling where all this was heading.

These personality viruses that were passing from person to person through suggestions were not unlike organisms competing for survival as described by evolutionary theory. And that meant that ....

She didn’t even like to think about that.

She HAD to find a way to help.

She HAD to.

Pulling herself to her feet, she headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, halfway expecting to find Dickie or Arthur still wanking on the floor, trying to prove who was the most pathetic.

There were no pathetic masturbators on the floor, though.

As a matter of fact, there turned out to be noone in the house.

Cursing, she stepped outside and started searching the neighborhood for the other four.

Dickie vaguely remembered feeling that he was supposed to be at the bus stop bench on the corner. He remembered bits and pieces of leaving the house and walking there, and of people telling him things while he sat there.

Things were a little hazy after that until he came upon Abigail and a woman talking on the sidewalk.

“... that everything is perfectly okay—” the woman was saying when Dickie interrupted her.

“Ma’am? Excuse me. Is that your purse by that bench?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, then casually strolled over to sit on the bench.

As she went back to talking to Abigail, he unzipped and pulled out his penis as nonchalantly as possible.

He practically trembled as he stroked, anticipating what he was going to do!

When he was ready, he grabbed the purse, unzipped it, then unloaded cream all over the contents inside.

Smiling smugly, he zipped it closed again and set it back in the spot where he found it.

Loaded with a nice surprise for the pretty lady. She reach into it unsuspectingly later and get her hand all gummed up with Dickie sperm. And she’d wonder what in the world it was, might even stick her finger in her mouth to taste it—to taste Dickie sperm!—but still would be bewildered!

He suspected he’d been given a suggestion, to sneak his sperm onto and into other ladies, but God it felt good to comply with it.

His task done here, he walked back over to where Abigail and the woman were talking. “You ready to go back to the house?” he asked her.

“Hungh?” she looked around and him and frowned. “Uh, yeah. I guess. We should do that.”

The pretty lady nodded and smiled, then walked over to get her purse and continue on about her day.

Dickie couldn’t suppress a smirk when he thought about the fun little surprise he had left inside it. She was soon going to be one of the bitches unknowingly coated in Dickie sperm! It made him hard just thinking about it.

“Why did you guys leave the house?” Abigail asked.

“I don’t know. I just ... got the urge to. Who was the woman you were talking to?”

“I don’t know. Just some woman. Do you know where the others are?”

When he got back to the house, he was going to have to masturbate into his palm, then find some excuse to shake hands with Abigail. If he didn’t slime her up too much, she might even eat without washing her hands and get Dickie sperm into her mouth!

Abigail interrupted his wonderful reverie, “I asked if you knew where the other three are.”

“No. I haven’t seen them.” If his Mom and Mrs Venturi were still in little girl mode, he might trick them or even convince them to try a taste of Dickie sperm! Then their bellies would be all coated up with Dickie seed!

“That’s okay, I guess. We’ll bump into them sometime.”

Not a minute after she said that, they saw Candace and Arthur walking towards them from the other direction. Abigail waved to catch their attention.

“Are you guys okay?” Abigail asked when the two parties came together.

“Doing good, I guess,” Paul shrugged.

“You’re not in pigtails anymore,” Dickie accused his mother.

“No, I ... don’t seem to need them,” she shrugged.

“Have you been taking good care of Dickie?” Arthur asked his sister, finding himself really excited at the thought of her being a good hostess and doing anything—especially anything sexual—that Dickie might want!

“Uhm ... good enough, I guess. He hasn’t been wanking in public, if that’s what you mean.”

God, Dickie hoped one of these bitches snored. If they did, they were going to come to with a mouth full of candy!

“Have you seen Mom?” Abigail asked her brother.

“No. Do you think ... maybe ... she’s out showing someone a good time?” Maybe SHE was doing whatever sexual things some man wanted her to do!

“I think we should search for her. It’s dangerous out here for you guys accepting suggestions like you do. But let’s stay together—maybe if we do we can get all of us in one place again.”

They walked up and down a couple blocks until they saw her. She, too, was without pigtails now.

“Have you been showing anyone a good time?” Arthur asked with a hopeful smile when they were within speaking range. Maybe ... maybe she had FLASHED some guy! Or even given someone head!

She cocked her head at him, then frowned. “I know we’re all getting suggestions implanted, but I’d prefer you not talk to me like that, Arthur.”

“Uh, right. But maybe you SHOULD be taking better care of our guests, don’t you think, Mom? Seeing to their needs?”

“Okay,” Abigail sighed and clapped her hands together, “we’re once again all together. Let’s get back to the house and STAY together. I think that will be much safer with you guys falling into trances.”

As they were walking back to the house, Mrs Venturi asked, “Abigail, did you come across anything while you were researching in the study last night that might help us?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s going to happen to us?” Candace asked. “I feel more lucid now than I have in a couple days, but I just know there are still hidden suggestions laying in my subconscious that are going to make me do things I don’t want to do.”

“It’s—there are—I just—” Abigail shrugged.

“What? What’s bothering you?”

“Mrs Grayson, these ‘personality viruses’, these suggestions that make their victims pass them on to others. They’re a lot like organisms themselves. They reproduce in a sense when you transfer the suggestion. They compete for victims. A lot of evolutionary theory and conclusions apply here.”

Candace took note of the ominous tone in which Abigail spoke that. “And?”

“And ... things are going to get worse here, more brutal. If there’s anything that ‘survival of the fittest’ teaches us, it’s that the sneakiest monkey wins. These personality viruses are going to get more aggressive about taking victims, for the simple reason that they’ll be overtaken by more aggressive suggestions if they don’t.”

“More aggressive? How so?”

“So far it’s been little steps. Like Arthur’s and Dickie’s ‘wank to the shame’ virus last night that only passed from male to male. It may already have mutated to use women as ‘carriers’ of the suggestion.

“But we’re running out of simple, easy improvements. The suggestions, the ‘viruses’ are going to have to start backstabbing each other now to get a larger percentage of the victims than the others. They’re going to have to get more cruel. Maybe victims will start tying others up and waiting around the clock to pass their suggestions along, instead of leaving that up to random chance—things like that.”

Abigail sighed. “Like I said ... the sneakiest monkey wins in situations like this.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know,” Mrs Venturi shrugged, “it seems to me that these ‘viruses’ are passing along just fine as they are now—Candy’s son certainly managed to infect my son last night with that pathetic masturbator virus.”

“I—I’m sorry, Alice.”

“It’s not your fault, Candace. Really, it’s more Dickie’s—”

“No, I ... I did bad. Maybe you should,” Candace turned around and cocked out her ass as she lifted her short skirt, “spank me to make me remember to do better in the future.”

“Oh, no,” Mrs Venturi shook her head.

“She must have some variant of the ‘spank me’ virus that you had, Mom,” Arthur grinned. “It’s all YOUR fault that she’s like this. Maybe YOU should let Dickie spank YOU so that you don’t do bad again.”

“If I recall correctly, Arthur YOU were the one that gave me that suggestion originally. So if anyone has done bad, you’re going to have to look at yourself.”

“C’mon, Mom, let Dickie spank you. Please?” God! She already HAD let Dickie spank her! It would be so good if she would just let him spank her SOME MORE!

“No, certainly not.”

They reached the house then and entered.

“Abigail,” Mrs Venturi asked, “would you like some tea before you go back to work in the study?”

“Yeah, that would good. Thank you.”

“Everyone have a seat at the table. I’ll fix tea all around.”

“You still ought to let Dickie spank you, Mom. Just a couple swats. After all, he’s our guest and—”

“Hush up, Arthur.”

She set out five tea cups, then began boiling water.

As her back was turned, Dickie strolled by the cabinet and casually picked up one of the tea cups, then walked into the living room.

God! SOMEBODY was going to be TASTING some SPERM!

He fumbled excitedly at his pants, got them partway down, then began stroking, holding the tea cup to catch the pornographic condiment he was going to squirt in just a minute.

Abigail startled as she came around the corner and saw that scene.

Dickie frowned when he realized she had caught him, but his hand continued its stroking. “I, uh ... was just going to leave someone a little treat.”

“Ohgod! You’re—?!” She took a breath. “That’s ... that’s okay, I guess. You’re under the power of a suggestion. Everything is ... perfectly okay.” She continued on to the study to jot down a couple ideas for further research.

Ohgod, Dickie wanted it to be Mrs Venturi that drank from this cup, her stomach all seeded up with Dickie cum!

He strangled his gasp as he shot the condiment into the cup. Then he zipped and walked back out to the kitchen.

“Oh, that’s where that cup went,” Mrs Venturi was already pouring tea in the first and second cup. “Bring it here.”

Dickie left the cup on the cabinet and walked to sit at the table.

“What?” she halted before pouring the tea into that last cup. She leaned closer and peered into it. “Dickie ... what did you put into this cup?”

Dickie just stayed at the table and smirked.

“Dickie! Is this what I think it is?!”

“What is it, Mom?” Arthur wandered over. “What did he do? What is that? Did he—Dickie, did you ejaculate into this cup?!”

“I wanted to give your mom a special treat.”

“He ... he creamed all over your tea cup?! Ohgod, Mom, you HAVE to drink it now!” She just HAD to!

“What?! No way!”

“Oh, but Dickie put spunk all over the bottom of your tea cup for you to drink! You HAVE to drink it down!”

“Don’t be INSANE!”

“You WANT to! You KNOW you want to!”

“I want no such thing! I think it’s repulsive that the little pervert would SNEAK AROUND and SOIL the cup with his ... his SEMEN! That is simply OBSCENE!”

“Then why did you pour tea in that cup?”

“Pour? I did no such—” she looked down, and she had indeed poured tea into the soiled cup as she had ranted to Arthur.

“You HAVE to drink it! You WANT to! You KNOW you do!”

“Stop that!” she scowled as she took a teaspoon and began stirring the sperm into the tea. “I know you’re not yourself, that you are under the effect of suggestions, but you STOP that, young man! I do NOT want to taste any of that boy’s disgusting semen!”

She stuck the teaspoon in her mouth to lick the tea off it, then set it on the counter.

“You just DID! You just DID taste Dickie sperm!”

“I what?! I did not!”

“You just stuck the soiled spoon in your mouth!”

“I did NOT! I—” she looked at the spoon laying on the counter, the spoon she had just used to mix the obscene cream in with the rest of the tea, the spoon she had just subconsciously popped into her mouth to lick off the excess tea. And sperm. “I—I didn’t MEAN to.”

Dickie was there at the counter, unzipping. “Do it AGAIN, Mrs Venturi! Do it again! Drink some MORE of the tea I flavored for ya!”

“Ohgod, Dickie! Stop undressing, for chrissakes!”

“Do it! Do it, Mom! You KNOW you subconsciously crave MORE of it!”

“I do NOT, young man! And YOU,” she glowered at the fat boy, “STOP UNDRESSING!” Christ, she thought as she reached for the cup and saucer, what had gotten INTO these two?! She slurped a sip of tea, then set the cup down. “Now I want you two to go and—”

“You DID it! You DID it, Mom! I KNEW you wanted to! Deep down inside you WANTED to!”

“Wanted to what?!”

“The tea! You just drank some more of the spermish tea!”

“No, I—” She realized that she HAD just sipped some more of the tea. And of Dickie’s sperm cream. “Oh. My. Gawd!”

What was going on?! COULD she subconsciously want to slurp the little fat boy’s sperm?! Could someone have given her a suggestion that permitted her subconscious to control her hands when her mind strayed?!

No. Impossible. There was NO PART of her that ... wanted to taste ... the fat boy’s sperm!

“Yeah! You like it, bitch!” Dickie leered.

“Drink the rest of it!” Arthur encouraged. “You want it! You want to drink the rest of Dickie’s sperm!”

“No, I absolutely WILL NOT do any such thing! I have no intention of—” She realized that her fingers had brought the contaminated tea cup to her lips and that they were tipping the glass. She had to either drink the tea as it was poured, or let it dribble down her chin and burn her neck.

She swallowed mouthful after mouthful until the entire contents had been poured into her mouth. Only then did her fingers return the tea cup to the counter. “Ohgod! What have I DONE?!”

“You drank it, bitch! You drank it all!” Dickie gloated. “You drank ALL of me, you horny bitch! Does my cum taste THAT GOOD? It MUST!”

“Ohgod! It was like I couldn’t control my hand!” Mrs Venturi blurted. “It was like it wasn’t listening to me!”

“It was listening to your subconscious!” Arthur firmly espoused. “You secretly WANTED to drink Dickie’s cum!”

“Ohgod, have some more, then!” Dickie fumbled to get the empty cup in front of and under his cockhead to capture the spunk as he grunted and squirted again.

After shivering as he unloaded, he set the cup back on the counter. “Go ahead, have some more. You know your subconscious wants to.”

“No, I—” Her hands reached for the cup, then two fingers of her right hand swiped a glob out of the bottom. “No! I don’t WANT—!”

Her fingers slipped into her open mouth, where her tongue licked them clean.

“Ohgod, what is HAPPENING to me?!”

“Your hands are listening to your subconscious instead of you! God, you WANT this!” Arthur was ready to pee his pants! THIS was how bitches OUGHT to take care of male guests!

“I—no—I—” She looked at the kitchen doorway to see Abigail standing there. Had she watched her mother sip spermish tea?! Had she watched her slurp the fresh sperm from her own fingers?! “Abigail, I—”

“No, it’s ... okay. It’s perfectly okay. Whatever you want to do with Dickie’s sperm is ... okay.”

“But I—I didn’t mean for—I just—” Mrs Venturi stammered, trying to explain her high sperm consumption rate.

“Let’s,” Arthur clapped his hands, “go sunbathe at the pool!” In an aside to Dickie, “I’m sure I can talk her subconscious into undressing for you, man!”

“I don’t—”

“Come on, Mom! You KNOW you want to! Your subconscious can barely stand NOT to! And you too, Abigail! Dickie’s our guest, and we should show him a good time! Wear your skimpiest bikinis!”

“That’s ... okay,” Abigail nodded, then turned and headed off to her room.

“There is no way that I am going to go dress in a bikini so you two boys can ogle me!” Mrs Venturi stood her ground firm, then headed back to her bedroom to change into her bikini.

Dickie, meanwhile, hurried back to Abigail’s room. He cracked the door and peeked inside. If he could just ... sperm up the cup of her bikini top or something, that would be so ... !

Ohgod!

There were her bikini top and bottom on her bed while she did something in the adjoining bathroom!

Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod!

Dickie unzipped and stroked a few times, then ... dashed across the room, fired into the bra cup and dashed back out.

Man, she was going to be pissed as a hornet, but he was going to slime up her tit with Dickie cream! God! She’d be just ... all ed-ed up!

Her whole breast might get covered and creamed up before she realized! She was going to scream like a siren about it, but she’d still be slimed! With Dickie-juice!

He hurried back downstairs and waited for that delightful squeal of anger from the bitch’s room!

When he got to the kitchen, Mrs Venturi was pouring a glass of lemonade to take outside with her.

“Wow! Mrs Venturi, you look GREAT!” he ogled the way her bikini bottoms flossed up between her ass cheeks.

“I, uh—” she blushed, “You shouldn’t be looking at me in this outfit, Dickie. It’s not appropriate for, uhm ....” For fat little perverts to see her in.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her! She didn’t want fat little perverts to be staring at her parts, but her body didn’t seem to be working right. Whenever her attention wandered off it, it DID things. Things that she didn’t want to, like pulling on this bikini. Or sticking the spoon with Dickie’s sperm into her mouth to clean it with her tongue.

And sometimes even when her attention was directly on it, her body was doing things, defying her, like when it poured the rest of the tea seasoned with Dickie sperm into her mouth.

And she REFUSED to believe that it was her subconscious overpowering her!

Abigail wandered into the kitchen then, followed by Arthur.

“Oh, good idea,” Abigail retrieved a glass, then poured from the pitcher, “I could use some lemonade too.”

Dickie frowned: there had been no squeal! Was that the same bikini top he’d squirted spunk into?! He studied it, but it sure LOOKED like the same bikini top.

Could she have not noticed?! The sticky slime smearing around on her tit like jelly around on a doughnut?! No way!

Could it have dried or something ... ?!

“Abigail,” Mrs Venturi leaned in and spoke quietly, “I—my .. hands ... don’t seem to be listening to me. They are starting to do things on their own. And so are the ... rest of my body parts. Do you have any idea how I can stop this? Because I don’t want to have to—”

“I know why!” Arthur spoke loudly from behind them where he had been listening. “It’s because you WANT to put your parts on display for our guest! You WANT to strut around and show him and let him have feels of them! You WANT! And your subconscious is MAKING you admit it by taking over at times!”

“No. No, I don’t think that’s it at all.”

“It IS! It IS it!”

Abigail shrugged. “It’s okay, Mom. It’s perfectly okay. You’re ... under the power of some suggestion. Just try to figure out what exactly what the suggestion was.”

Candace came out then, in a bikini borrowed from Alice Venturi, and the group headed out to the chairs around the pool.

Dickie studied Abigail’s breasts, but didn’t see any drips of spunk, though he didn’t really expect to. What had happened?! How could she have not noticed?!

Abigail set her lemonade on the table and stretched out in the lounge chair, and Dickie couldn’t suppress his curiosity. He finally walked up to her.

“Abigail, when you were putting on your bikini, didn’t you ... notice a special little treat left for you in the bra cup?”

“Oh, you mean the sperm?” she squinted as she looked up at him. “Yes. And after seeing you spunk up Mom’s tea cup earlier, I FIGURED it was probably yours. But it’s okay. It’s all perfectly okay. You’re under the influence of some suggestion that’s making you mark territory with your sperm or something.”

“Did you ... wipe it off or something?” He had been looking forward to hearing her angry rage, and here she was being perfectly civilized about it.

“No, it’s all still right here,” she cupped her right tit, “squishing around between my bra cup and my breast. But ... that’s okay. Everything is perfectly okay.”

“You’re WEARING my SPERM?!” a grin slapped across Dickie’s face and stayed, lighting up his expression.

“I guess I am, yeah.”

“Oh, MAN, that is cool!”

“C’mon, Mom, show them to Dickie! You KNOW you want to sunbathe topless! You KNOW you do!”

“Arthur, cut that out now! I am NOT ABOUT to take my top off in front of that fat little pervert! Nor am I going to take it off in front of you!”

“C’mon, show them to him! I WANT you to! Please! You have the PERFECT excuse—I’ll tell him you always sunbathe topless.”

“Arthur, no! Now stop it!”

A grin spread across his face. “But you WANT to! Down inside you KNOW you want to! Your SUBCONSCIOUS wants to!”

“Arthur, my subconscious does NOT want to preen around toplessly in front of my own son and his fat pervert friend! Trust me on this point—it doesn’t!”

Arthur shrugged. “Okay. If that’s how you want it.”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll leave you alone about it.”

“Thank you,” she sighed. As she leaned back in her chair to stretch out—

Her nipples were out.

Her whole breasts were out.

Her bikini top was in her hand, which was setting the tiny scrap of cloth on the table beside her as she leaned back in the chair.

Her ... hands ... must have untied it and removed it while Arthur was smirking at her a minute ago.

Oh ... God. How COULD she?! How COULD her hands do that to her?!

“Ohgod! Ohgod! Ohgod!” Arthur bounced from one leg to the other excitedly beside her chair. “You’re topless! They’re bared! You’re just ... SHOWING ... them to him!”

“I am NOT showing my breasts to him. I’m ... sunbathing toplessly.”

“Dickie!” Arthur burst out a yell, then stood beside her pointing down at her. “She’s TOPLESS, man! She’s SHOWING THEM OFF for you!”

“Man, your Mom’s topless!” Dickie admired Mrs Venturi sitting across the pool letting the twins get out for a little sunlight. “Does she normally sunbathe without a top?”

“No. But that’s, uhm ... okay. Perfectly okay. She’s just ... under some suggestion. That’s all.”

Dickie looked down at Abigail, sitting there VOLUNTARILLY with one bra cup filled with his CUM, letting the substance seep all over her right tit, like some really special jelly!

“The other question is, do you normally wear sperm?” he asked with a smirk.

“No. But it’s okay. It’s perfectly okay—you’re just under the influence of a suggestion and can’t help yourself. You’re just ... trying to mark territory or something.”

Cool. That’s what he was doing: marking territory.

And he was ... ready to mark some more.

While Abigail sat back in her chair there, bra cup filled with sperm, Dickie discreetly sidled behind her. Then he quietly unzipped and set his eyes on her lemonade glass.

Yeah, he stroked, he’d dirty her up on the inside too. And she’d drink it and wouldn’t even suspect!

Across the pool, Mrs Venturi was too busy with Arthur to notice Dickie wanking behind her daughter’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Mom! Play with your nipples for him! Show him what a HOT BITCH you are!”

“Arthur, stop that! I am NOT a ‘hot bitch’.”

“You WANT to! Your subconscious is just ITCHING to do it! To play with your nipples for him.”

“Arthur, you STOP telling me what my subconscious wants to do! You have NO IDEA what my sub—”

Oh, SHIT! A grin just crept across the boy’s face.

Mrs Venturi looked down, and—

Crap!

There were her defiant hands, perking up her nips for the showing!

Goddammit!

WHY wouldn’t her parts LISTEN to her?!

“Arthur, I am not voluntarily baring my parts for Dickie! I am under the influence of some suggestion!”

“I don’t give a fuck Mom, you’re still baring them.” Then loudly, “Hey, Dickie! She’s PLAYING with them!”

Dickie waved his hand in a “hush” gesture as he stood behind Abigail.

“Besides, I’ve always KNOWN that you secretly liked to show off your body.”

“Arthur! I DO NOT!” she objected as she teased her nipples between thumb and forefinger.

“Alice,” Candace looked over from her chair, “you really shouldn’t be giving yourself a breast massage out here in mixed company.”

“I—I’m not,” she shook her head as she continued to tweak nip, “I mean, I don’t WANT to. I just can’t HELP myself.”

“It’s her SUBCONSCIOUS that wants to show off her breasts in public and perk up her nipples to tease other men.”

“Still, you ought to at least TRY to resist, Alice. My own son is over there getting an eyeful of you, for Chrissakes.”

“I—I’m TRYING to resist!” Her fingers twisting and rolling her erect nipples attested to her failure to do so.

“She’s trying her best, Mrs Grayson. It’s just that her subconscious keeps overpowering her.”

“I—oh, dear. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across so short. I’ve ... offended you. Maybe,” she stood, turned her back to them, cocked out her ass and looked back over her shoulder, “maybe you should spank my ass so that I remember to be more polite in the future.”

“Come over here,” Arthur grinned.

“Arthur! Don’t you DARE!” Mrs Venturi complained as she continued to maintain nipples perky for the showing.

“Oh! Thank you, sir!” Candace graciously took her first swat.

“Arthur! You leave her ALONE!”

“Oh! Thank you, sir!” for the second swat.

“Mom, you OUGHT to be showing off your ass for Dickie too!”

“Arthur! Don’t even—”

“Oh, you know you want to. Stand up and take off your bottoms too.”

“Arthur! Stop it! And stop spanking Candace!”

“Oh! Thank you, sir!”

“What’s Arthur waving at?” Abigail sat forward and twisted around to look.

Dickie stood behind her, cock in hand.

He froze, panicked, caught.

Abigail’s eyes moved from his erection to the glass of lemonade vulnerably within squirting distance underneath it.

Then her eyes flicked to his, a question, an accusation.

“I ... uh ...”

“Dickie, are getting ready to squirt sperm into my lemonade?”

“I—uhm—yeah.” He shrugged, hand still on cock. “But—I can’t help myself. It’s the ... the suggestion.”

“Mmkay,” she shrugged and sat back.

Dickie stayed frozen. This was like in the horror movies, where the characters thought the danger had passed and then suddenly it sprang back on them. She was going spin around and take his head off.

But she just sat there, her back to him.

“It’s ... okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s okay. It’s all perfectly okay.”

Wow.

Cool.

“Would you hold the glass for me? If you tilt it just a little bit, I can hit it a little better when I squirt.”

“Okay,” she sat up, turned around in the seat and held her glass of lemonade, slightly tilted, under the Dickie-prick.

“Okay?” He was still astounded.

“It’s all perfectly okay. Go ahead and muck up my juice.”

“Oh, MAN, this is GREAT! You’re okay with this?”

“It’s all perfectly okay.”

Mrs Venturi was standing there topless, in just bikini bottoms, bent partially over, ass cocked out toward Arthur while her hands defiantly reached toward the tie strings of her bottom.

Mrs Grayson was stretched out across Arthur’s lap, muttering, “Oh! Thank you, sir!” with each swat, getting embarrassingly wet over being spanked by the boy.

“No, Mom,” he spoke, “point it around toward Dickie. He’s the one you want to show your ass off to.”

“Goddammit, Arthur!” she complained as she shuffle-rotated around to point ass at Dickie. “I don’t WANT to do this!”

Her fingers fumbled with the tie strings, the bikini bottom dropped to the cement, and the beautiful globes of her ass and the pussy in between were left on display for the fat boy.

“Apparently your subconscious does,” Arthur smirked. “And the subconscious wins.”

“Oh! Thank you, sir!” Candace wriggled her hips on his thigh.

“Now call Dickie! Tell him to look! Let him know what a HOT BITCH you are!”

“Arthur, I will NOT!”

“Your subconscious wants to.”

“My subconscious can go to hell!”

“Call him, Mom!”

“Oh! Thank you, sir!” Candace’s ass took another little swat and dribbled a little more lubricant.

“No!”

“I think you’d better.”

“No!” her body stayed bent over, displaying naked pelvis from the back, but she would be damned if she was going to deliberately call attention to it.

“Because I think that if you don’t, your subconscious is going to threaten to stick it’s finger up your ass, at which point I’LL call Dickie, because something like that is worth seeing!”

“Arthur, I think you’re—” She felt her right hand move to her thigh, trace its fingernails around the hip just a little, lightly slap, then squeeze the buttock.

“Goddammit, cut it out!” she cursed at her body and subconscious.

The fingernails taunted her, lightly scratching the ass cheek.

“Stop this! We don’t WANT this!” she tried to reason with her subconscious, but the fingernails insisted on teasing the cheek.

Then the middle finger traced along the crack between the buttcheeks.

“Stop it! Stop it! We DON’T WANT to show our body to a fat little pervert!”

Her middle finger burrowed deeper into the crack between the cheeks.

“Look,” she said, her voice quivering a little, desperate to make a deal with her subconscious, “if you really want to show us off, let’s put the bikini back on, and I’ll prance around here all afternoon, teasing the hell out of these boys! Okay?”

Her finger found her anus and made happy, insistent little circles there.

“Please!”

Happy little circles.

“Now you listen to me!” she suddenly tried to take a strong hand with her subconscious, “You are going too—OOH! OOHGOD!”

The finger had pushed past her anus and slipped in to the second knuckle.

“Ohgod! Ohgod! Why?! Do you want to show off in front of the boys that bad?!”

The finger slipped out a half knuckle, then back in again.

“Okay! Okay! Take our finger out of our ass, and I yell for the boy to ... look at us! Okay?!”

The finger wriggled around just inside for a moment, then ... slipped out.

“Thank you! Thank you!”

Her right hand lightly gave an, “Attaboy, go get’em, tiger,” pat to her right ass cheek.

Now it was time for her to complete her end of the bargain. The finger was out of her ass, it was time for her to call the fat little pervert and ask him to watch her be naked. But she just didn’t want to ... do that ....

Her right hand lightly patted her ass to remind her: call the fat boy.

With a sigh, Mrs Venturi shook her head, then called, “Dickie! Dickie! Look at me! I’m naked! Look at me!”

Her face was pointed away from him, so she couldn’t see if he was looking, but—

Her left hand gripped her left ass cheek and pulled it lightly to the side. Her right hand moved in an exaggerated circle, then made an upside-down “fuck you” gesture.

“What—?! What are you DOING?!” Her subconscious was UP TO SOMETHING!

“Oh! Thank you, sir!” Candace gasped from Arthur’s lap.

“Do it! Do it!” Arthur tensed excitedly.

“What are you DOING?! We had a DEAL! Stop this! I’m SHOWING him our ass! That was the DEAL!”

Keeping the “fuck you” gesture, her right middle finger exaggeratedly traced the crack of her ass three times.

“What are you DOING?! We had a DEAL! I KEPT MY end of the deal! You keep yours!” God, she hated subconsciouses. They were not to be trusted.

“OhGAAAWWWWD!” she brayed as the finger burrowed past her anus. “It’s up my—it’s up my AAAAASSSSS!”

“OhGOD! Thank you, sir! Give me another one!” Candace’s hips were grinding against Arthur’s excited thigh.

“Show him, bitch! Show him your finger up you butt!”

“Ohgod, thank you, sir! Give me another one!” Candace was getting her butt spanked at a more excited pace now as Arthur bunched up with excitement that his hot bitch mother was showing her stuff off!

Mrs Venturi was dying in shame as her right hand pulled out of her ass, gave an exaggerated thumbs-up gesture for Arthur and the fat boy to see, then shifted back to the “fuck you” gesture and went back in for some more quality ass-frigging.

This, apparently, was her subconscious’s idea of keeping its end of the deal ....

Good God! Dickie loved this!

Mrs Venturi was on the other side of the pool, fingering her own asshole, utterly insistent that everyone watch!

Abigail was in front of him, head turned to watch, muttering nervously, “It’s okay. It’s all perfectly okay.”

And Dickie—though the thought of squirting into Abigail’s lemonade was awfully tempting, he suddenly wanted so badly to—to—

His first squirt caught her on the upper side of the cheekbone, startling her! As she turned her head to see what was happening, his second squirt globbed a line from the side of her right nostril, down across her lips to her left chin just below her mouth! The rest of the squirts he aimed for the cleavage between her boobs!

The bitch was marked as his! Semen-stained!

“Dickie! You got me in the face! But ... that’s okay ... it’s perfectly ....”

She started to reach up to wipe the slime off her face, but Dickie stopped her. “No, no: please, leave it.”

“Uhm, Dickie, I ... can’t walk around with your cum all over my face and breasts ... it’s ... okay, I guess ... perfectly okay ....”

“Okay?” he was elated.

“Yeah ... okay. Although, it’s going to drip.”

“Still, leave it. Just ... lick the bit off your lips, okay?”

Lick it off her lips?! The fat little pervert had just ejaculated all over her face and breast by surprise. Now he wanted her to leave it there, grossing up her face like she was some slut that sucked men off regularly—though even THEY had too much dignity to let the guys squirt them in the face.

But ... it was all perfectly okay.

Her tongue came out, moved around her upper and lower lip to lick the spunk-cream off, then she swallowed.

Dickie’s prick swelled anew! God! She SWALLOWED!

SOMETHING was UP with her! It HAD to be! Normally she would have freaked just at Dickie squirting into her bikini top! Here she was holding her glass so he could flavor her lemonade with sperm, licking his cum off her lips and swallowing it! And not even pissed off about ANY of it!

“Ohgod, Daddy!” Candace ground her hip against Arthur’s thigh, “Don’t stop! Spank me!”

Arthur frowned. “’Daddy’? Is that left over from—”

“No, I’m just horny out of my mind, Arthur. Now, PLEASE let me—” She stood, turned around and grabbed the waist of his swim trunks. “PLEASE let me slide these off, Daddy!”

With a surprised grin, Arthur raised his hips, and Candace slid his shorts to the ground. “Ohgodyeah!” she shut her eyes as she leaned in and licked his cockhead.

“Candace?! Stop that!” Mrs Venturi complained, still bent over with her middle finger obviously inserted up her ass. “Stop giving my son head!”

“Oh, you ... should talk ... ass-slut!” Candace spoke around slurping Arthur’s cock.

“Mom,” Arthur sighed, “don’t you think your subconscious would like to show Dickie how you play with your pussy? So he doesn’t think you only get off anally?”

“My subconscious is no longer in control here! I am NOT going to be taking orders from it anymore!” This said as she still had ass in air, finger up butt for the viewing pleasure of the fat little pervert. “My subconscious reneges on deals, so I am not going to make any more deals with it. It’s simply going to have to stay suppressed! I am going to be the one making the decisions around here from—OOH!” She shivered as she felt her middle finger withdraw from her ass.

“Daddy, please ...,” Candace eased her way up Arthur, “please let me just ... straddle you like this ...,” she stepped across his lap, lowered her pussy onto and around his prick, unable to keep a little juice from dripping onto his thighs as she did so, then wrapped her arms around his neck and melted to him, “and you can ... fuck me while you ... still spank me, Daddy ....”

“Yeah,” Arthur grunted, “this is ... a pretty good position.”

“Thank you ... thank you, Daddy ...,” she nuzzled him, crotch stuffed full.

Meanwhile, “Stop this! Stop this! STOP THIS!” Mrs Venturi complained to her body and subconscious as she stood up and turned around. “I am NOT going to be CONTROLLED by you! I assert my will right here and NOW!”

Ignoring her, her body sat in the lounge chair, hooked her right leg over the chair’s arm, then hooked her left leg similarly to spread herself widely.

“Ohgod!” she whimpered. “Look—please, we can make a deal, okay?”

Her right hand moved to just in front of her face and flipped her a bird.

“Wait! We can deal! Look, you don’t have control over our voice. I have control over that! So if we’re going to call and get the fat boy’s attention, you’re going to need MY cooperation! And there are certain things that I am not willing to do. So if you want any help from me, you’re going to have to—”

Her right hand came up in front of her face and flicked her nose just then, and she flipped herself another bird. Then her hand went down between her legs.

“No ... no, you’re not going to get my cooperation that way ... you’re ... oh! ... oh, goodness ... !”

“Gosh, has anyone told you how pretty you look in sperm?” Dickie told Abigail.

“Everything is ... perfectly okay,” she reminded herself quietly, then “Th-thank you, Dickie.”

“Let me spread it around on you a little bit, okay? Get you all coated up good in it.”

“Everything is ... perfectly okay ... everything is ... perfectly okay ... everything is—OH!”

Dickie dabbed his fingers in one of the globs just above her cleavage and began spreading it around, then copped a feel of tit through her top.

“I, uh ... everything is ... uh, perfectly okay ....”

He copped another couple feels, then lifted the bottoms of her bra cups so her breasts sprang free, one still clean, one already pre-slimed. “Ohgod! Dickie, I—! Uhm ... everything is perfectly okay! Everything is perfectly okay!”

“God, these are GREAT!” Dickie enthused, spreading the semen icing all over them.

“Here,” he unzipped and dropped his shorts to the ground, then pulled her hand and wrapped it around his erection, “you hold this while I get you all gummed up good.”

She held his erection while he spread the semen around on her face, then reached down to keep the boobs moisturized as well.

“Everything is ... perfectly fine ... everything is ... perfectly fine ....”

“Oh, MAN! I’m getting ready to CUM again! And you ... you just GOTTA let me squirt you in the eye! I’m sorry—that’s the hypnotic suggestion talking, but still ... you just GOTTA let me squirt you in the eye!”

“Dickie, I don’t think—I don’t think that—” he was pumping right in front of her eyes like he was ready to blow, so she shut them. “Everything is ... perfectly fine ... everything is ... perfectly fine ... everything is ....”

“Unngh!” he grunted as he bullseyed her. Then bullseyed her other eye. Then he aimed the rest of the squirts for her lips until he was done cumming and mashed his softening penis up against her mouth. “C’mon, bitch! Clean it.”

“Everything is ... perfectly fine ... everything is ... perfectly fine ...,” she reminded herself over and over as she let his genitals slip into her mouth and cleaned the cum off them with her tongue.

Mrs Venturi’s fingers were plunged deep inside herself, moving frantically—her body’s idea of how to “persuade” her to be more cooperative. But she wasn’t about to cooperate with it or with her subconscious. “You can’t ... you can’t make me ... no matter what ... you do to me ... I won’t ... I won’t ... call Dickie ....”

She had felt the upwelling of arousal from her body, sensations that she had never felt the likes of. But her body couldn’t bribe her, and her subconscious couldn’t sucker her. She was NOT going to let these ... inhumanly strong waves of arousal ... cloud her judgment.

“There are ... some lines ...,” she panted to her stubborn, highly aroused body, while her insistent fingers diddled at her twat, “... I just won’t cross ... some things ... I just won’t do ... and ... and you can’t make ... you can’t ... make ... OHSWEETMOTHEROFGODOHGODOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK!”

Her legs stiffened, her back arched, she sucked in air, then wailed again.

The other four stopped what they were doing just to watch, out of respect for such an incredible climax.

When she finally coasted down, she was much more amenable to her subconscious. An orgasm like that always puts you in a better mood for the rest of the day, and Mrs Venturi guessed she was ready to listen to some of what her subconscious was suggesting to her.

That’s when they came.

Over the walls around the back yard, through the gates at the house, they stormed in.

Seth’s angry soldiers.

Mrs Venturi was yanked from her post-orgasm, bound naked and strung from a pole by which two men carried her.

Arthur had his hands and feet tied behind him and moaned as the pole used to carry him yanked his shoulders and hips the wrong way.

Candace and Abigail tried to escape, but were taken down before they could clear the walls, bound and ported like carcasses of meat to the church.

Dickie was too fat to carry, so the Holy Soldiers tied a rope around his neck and made him run behind them or choke.

The Holy Army took the sinners back to the church then. They only struck one household at a time. This was slower, but it did not give the neighbors time to prepare against them.

At the church, the five were tied to stakes. Candace saw Angie among the people binding her, and in desperation, trying to create a distraction by which they might escape, she cried out, “You learn sin, bitch!”

But Angie, rather than collapsing in climax as Candace hoped against hope she might still do, that she might distract the “Holy Soldiers” enough that one or more of the five might escape—instead Angie just ignored her.

Stephen came up to Candace a few minutes later, sneering. “You have no power over her, sinner. She is one of the truly righteous, for she has taken a spike and plunged it into her own ears, to rupture her eardrums, so that she cannot be swayed from the righteous path by sinners like you.”

“Stephen ... what has happened to you? What have you done?”

He spat on her.

“You will be righteous soon, Candy. Just you wait. You will be righteous soon too!”

Various “Holy Soldiers” came and went, keeping the five and others under surveillance, like fruit being watched for its moment of ripeness.

Mrs Venturi was the first to slip off into trance. The entire crowd of “Holy Soldiers” surged then, loudly reciting the suggestions Seth had crafted, drowning out every other sound.

When she came out of the trance, she was untied and taken away.

The next morning, Mrs Venturi was helping to bind the sinners to the stakes to await their “holy revelation” when they next tranced.

When Dickie brought up the subject of feeding time, he was mocked—mocked!—and told he could suffer until made righteous.

Arthur went next, trancing off about 10:00 in the morning and becoming a newly minted citizen in God’s and Seth’s righteous army.

“What,” Candace asked, her mouth like cotton since no water had passed her lips since yesterday, “did you say about ... things getting more brutal ... Abigail?”

“The ... sneakiest monkey wins. That’s also ... the cruelest monkey.”

More time passed, but no food or water did.

Candace went next, at noon the next day. By 6:00 Pm, she was taunting the fat boy, that he wouldn’t eat again until he was righteous.

There were trickles of blood from each ear, left as proud declarations that she was one of those that had become truly righteous, puncturing her eardrums so that she could receive no new suggestions that might corrupt the ones already given to her by the “Holy Army”.

Abigail went the next morning, and she and Candace harassed Dickie that evening.

Dickie lost 35 pounds before a trance ended his old personality, that a new righteous one might be installed in its corrupt place.

They never knew what really was the cause of the trances people entered, but Seth’s Holy Army slowly and irresistibly grew.

Because the sneakiest monkey wins.