The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Diabolical Dr. Diggler

tags: mind control (mc), son-step-mother relations (in), male dominant (md), shame/embarrassment

Professor Diggler is doing SOMETHING sinister and fiendish to Bryan’s female classmates, to his female professors, and even ... to his mom.

* * *

Author’s note: there is an interactive version of this story, with nearly 350 images, available for free at https://mega.co.nz/#!fRBGwTbL!Yr6cgzzETVDPd4jgB1aKwuHAJliOhArUkn4ndIOGzCc. It’s all HTML and Javascript, so the security-minded of you won’t need to run any .exe—just download it, unzip it into a folder, then open the DiabolicalDrDiggler.html file in a browser.

There’s even an easter egg in it already—if you don’t find it yourself, email me () for how to open a secret scene with another couple dozen images (and to see Dr. Diggler’s evil powers at work).

I’m requesting feedback on what parts work well and which don’t. I’m just starting to write iStories/interactive stories, and am still working out the best techniques for storytelling in them. Thank you.

* * *

Chapter 1

Trapped.

That’s what I am right now. No escape, no reprieve.

I’m stuck in this class that is going to destroy my grade average. I’ve never dropped a class once it started—never had to. I’m a damn good student. And anyway, it’s too late to drop this one—the final date for that has already passed.

So I’m stuck with a professor that has it in for me. Besides taking my girlfriend and then just humiliating her, he’s now determined to fail me.

I told my parents when I phoned home last weekend—had to. A failed class will lose several scholarships for me, and Mom and Dad are helping out with the University fees that the scholarships don’t cover. They have a right to know.

All because of one lousy bastard.

I was moping on my couch, lacking the interest to do anything else, what with my world coming to an end, when someone knocked on the apartment door.

I almost didn’t bother to answer it—I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I mean, in what kind of world does my ex-girlfriend Lisa do the things she did—the things she did, and the things she did to me. In what kind of world does a bastard like Diggler get to fail me for the course—I know the material better than him, dammit!—and destroy my grade average and cancel several of my scholarships. What kinda world ...

But they knocked again, and I got my butt off the couch and went and answered the door. “Yeah? Who is—” I asked as I swung over the door.

“Hi sweetie.”

“Mom?!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I just decided to drive down this morning. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, not at all. It’s good to see you!” I gave her a hug. “Come in, come in!”

“I hope I’m not intruding. I mean, I know you were seeing that girl—what was her name? Lisa?”

“Lisa and I are done with, Mom.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You seemed ... happy ... with her.”

“It just ... didn’t work out.”

“Okay, well, there will be other ones,” she smiled and patted my chest. “Now, before it gets too late,” she looked at her wristwatch, “on a Friday afternoon, I wanted to go and just see and talk to this ‘Dr. Diggler’ that you’ve been—”

“Ah, Mom, no, you can’t.”

“I just want to talk to him, sweetie. Even monsters sometimes have compassion. Especially when you approach them the right way.”

“Mom, this isn’t high school. You can’t go—talk to my teachers. I’m a grown man, I need to start doing things for myself.”

“Sweetie, I love you, but that’s not working out real well right now, is it? I know you’re a grown man, but if this Dr. Diggler fails you, we’ll need to come up with quite a large dollar amount to replace those scholarships it will cost you; if we can get him to behave like a human being, so that you don’t lose those scholarships, it will be worth it.”

I sighed.

“Don’t you think, sweetie?”

I just sighed again. I was going to lose this argument—I already knew that. When my mom sets her mind to something, heaven and earth yields to her. And, truthfully, if anyone could persuade Diggler to be human, Mom could. I sighed again.

“Sweetie, I don’t mean to hurry you, but if I’m going to catch him before his office hours are over this afternoon ...”

“Yeah ...” I sighed, then sighed again, then gave in to the inevitable, “... okay ...”

“Thank you, Bryan. It sounds crass, but the money makes it worth it—if we can avoid losing those scholarships that you earned ... it will be worth talking to this horrible little man.”

“Just don’t—if you could sort of ... keep it under wraps—I’d prefer the other students not know that my mom ...”

She patted my chest again, with a slight smirk. “Your secret will be safe with me.”

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“No, you already showed us around the last time your father and I were here. Dr. Diggler is in the Washington Facility? I remember where that is. And I don’t know how long he and I will talk. It’ll be better if you’re not there waiting on us.”

“Okay.”

I got the spare key to the apartment out of the kitchen drawer and gave it to her, then she headed for the door. “Could you possibly bring my bags in while I’m talking with him?”

“You brought luggage?”

“I figured if I’m going to drive all this way, we could at least visit for the weekend.”

“Absolutely! I even have a restaurant I know you’ll love.”

“Good! Let me go catch this Dr. Diggler. See you soon.”

* * *

Mom was gone a long time.

A loooong time.

She left about 1:30, so should have gotten to his office by 2:00. I gave her until 3:00 and 4:00 and even 5:00 to talk to him. But I should have heard something from her by 5:00. I texted her phone then, and again a few minutes later.

By 6:00, I was calling her phone; by 6:30, I was leaving messages in her voice mail to call me and let me know she was okay.

By 7:00, I was getting dressed. I was going to drive the route to Diggler’s office and make sure she hadn’t been in an accident or anything.

I thought I heard the front door as I was pulling on my pants and called, “Is that you, Mom?”

No reply. Must have just been wishful thinking.

I pulled on my shirt and grabbed my keys and headed out to the front door.

And halted. That—that was the sound of water running in the bathroom ...

The bathroom door was shut, and I rapped on it. “Mom? Is that you?”

“Yeah, sweetie,” she called through the door, “It’s me.”

“Uhm ... are you okay? You were gone a long time.”

“Oh, I’m fine, sweetie,” she called through the door. “I just thought it would be nice to take a hot bath now that I’m back here.”

Oooo-kay ...

“Well, come tell me how things went when you’re done with your bath, okay?”

“Sure, sweetie. I’ll do that.”

I went back to my room and changed back into casual shorts and t-shirt, then headed out to the main room to watch TV while Mom bathed.

An hour later, she was still in the bathroom. I went and rapped on the door again, “Hey, are you okay in there? You’ve been in for quite a while.”

I thought I heard small splashing sounds through the door, but it stopped when I called.

“Uh ... yeah,” she called. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, sweetie. You go on to bed.”

“Mom, it’s only 8:30. I’m not going to bed yet. Besides, I want to hear how things went.”

“Oh, well, I’m going to be a bit longer in here. You shouldn’t wait on me. Go on with what you usually do this time of night, sweetie.”

Okay ...

I stared at the closed door a few seconds, then headed back to the main room and sat down across from the TV.

A half hour later, Mom was still locked in the bathroom.

I walked over to the door. I didn’t want to pester her, but she was spending a long time in there.

There was still that little splashing sound again, muffled, but coming through the door.

And ... Mom’s voice, making little gasps ...

“Hey,” I rapped on the door, “are you okay in there?”

The gasps stopped instantly. So did the splashing sounds.

“Are you in the bath? You’re going to shrivel up like a prune if you spend any more time in there.”

“Oh, I’m fine, darling. Don’t wait on me—go about whatever you normally do. I’m going to be a few more minutes.”

“But I want to hear how it went.”

“Things went well, darling. Dr. Diggler and I talked a long time. He had an idea of what we should do. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

“In the morning?! But I was hoping you could tell me about it tonight.”

“Oh, well I’m in the bath right now. And I’m feeling pretty sleepy. I’m probably going to go straight to bed as soon as I get out of the bath.”

Yeah, well—I grinned silently—I’d just be a pest when she came out until she told me what all happened. I walked back over to the chair and sat down at stare at the TV until Mom came out.

A few minutes later Mom let out a muffled squeal through the door. “Are you okay in there?” I called.

OH yeah!” she called back. “No, I mean, I was just trying something, and it REALLY worked well.“

I shrugged. Moms are weird sometimes. I settled back to stare at the TV.

A few minutes after that, Mom gave a squeal that was NOT muffled by the door. There was a note of urgency that had me springing up out of the chair to go help before I even knew what was going on.

I, uhm ... halted. Mom was okay. She was holding onto the bathroom doorframe with both hands, from where it looked like she had almost slipped and fallen.

She was also naked. Not a stitch on.

At her feet were the towel she must have had wrapped around her, as well as the bundle of clothes I guessed she had been carrying.

She—wow. I mean, I couldn’t help it. I noticed her nipples. They were ... the most excited, perked little nipples I had ever seen. Even in porn videos. She—

I dropped my eyes to the floor. “Uhm—”

“I’m fine! I’m fine. I just almost slipped.”

She started to bend over to pick up her stuff, but—she was still exposing parts. “Mom! I got those! Go! Go back to your room and get dressed! I’ll bring that stuff in a moment. You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I caught myself before I fell. I—”

“Go! Just go get dressed!”

Mom ... jiggled naked up the hallway to the spare bedroom that I had set her luggage in, while I kept my eyes firmly off her and on the floor.

Wow.

I walked to the pile of stuff and began gathering the damp towel and other stuff up.

Damn, I was impressed as I thought about it. The bathroom door always squeaks, with the hinges getting exposed to humidity all the time. But ... she hadn’t made a sound. She must have eased the door open so carefully that it didn’t squeak, not even for me to hear it sitting fifteen feet away.

I picked up the damp towel and her pants and blouse and—something hard and heavy. That was—

What the hell?!

“Mom ... WHY do you have my electric toothbrush?” And ... oh crap, I was going to be scarred for life ...

Why where her pink silk panties tied around the brushhead? The part that I normally put into my mouth, to brush my teeth?!

“I, uhm,” she called from the bedroom, through the door she’d shut when she ran back there, “I was just, uhm, too tired to brush my teeth—I was going to borrow it, I hoped you wouldn’t mind—but thought I might wake up in the middle of the night with scummy teeth and want to brush.”

“But ... why are your panties wrapped around the head of it?”

Silence. Finally, “They must have ... gotten wrapped around it when I dropped them all. When I almost fell.”

That didn’t seem ... terribly likely. But she’s Mom. She gets the benefit of the doubt. Plus, my mind couldn’t go anywhere that something other than her explanation was what happened.

I gathered up the whole bundle and carried them back to the bedroom door. “I have your stuff.”

The door cracked, and she reached through, exposing a still-naked, still-extremely-excited, breast as she reached out and got her stuff. “Thanks, darling,” she breathed, then slipped back in and shut the door.

Confused, I stumbled back out to the main room and stared at the TV while my mind deliberately did NOT try to make sense of what Mom had just done. Do not think about her sneaking out of the bathroom to slip past me, I told myself. Don’t consider why she borrowed my electric toothbrush and wrapped her panties around the brushhead. It doesn’t matter how long she spent in the bath, making little water splashes and moaning. And it’s none of my business why she’s still naked, out of the bathroom, up the hallway and still in the spare room.

Just ... not mine to even think about.

At 11:00, I turned off the TV and went to wish her good night through the door, but halted before I knocked.

Buzzing.

From my ... electric toothbrush.

And moans.

“Uh, goodnight, Mom,” I said quickly and headed into my room.

* * *

The next day was Saturday, and Mom was late coming out to the kitchen for coffee. When she finally did, her face was already blushed dark red. Without a word, she filled a spare mug I had sitting on the counter, came over to the table and sat, eyes not meeting mine.

“I, uhm ... made quite a spectacle of myself last night,” she finally said, eyes glued to the table.

Actually, I admired her courage. This was a hard kitchen to walk out into after a night like last night.

“Nah,” I said strongly. “After a long drive here and a talk with my bastard professor—”

“Language, young man,” she said reflexively.

“—my jerk professor, you took a hot bath. Hey, you earned it. Then you almost slipped and fell—that was scary. So it was an exciting day and night, but—but thank you for talking to Diggler. I’d like to handle it all myself, but you’re right—the scholarships are important. So thank you for taking the time to drive all the way up here, and for helping me out.”

Her eyes came up to mine and studied me, for sincerity, I guessed—which I radiated like a 1000 watt light bulb. If she had acted strange with the very long bath and with sneaking naked up the hall—well, that was overshadowed by her effort to drive all the way here to try to help me out.

“I, uhm ...”

“Hey, you are the best mom ever. Most moms would just cut their kid loose to sink or swim. You’re letting me out to build my own life, but you’re still there to help when I need it. Moms don’t come any better than that.”

She took a sip of coffee, and when she lowered the mug, I swear her eyes were misting up. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely.

“Surely. Thank YOU. Hey,” I stood up to give her a minute to compose herself, “I have some microwave bacon and hash-browns. What say I make both of us some?“

“That would—that would be nice, Bryan. Thank you.”

I chatted away while I fixed the food, about the local restaurants and parks, to give her a couple minutes to catch her balance. It’s hard to walk out into an embarrassing situation like that—and as I said, brave. That was one thing about my mother—she was strong and never shied away from anything. I liked to think, and hoped, I’d inherited some of that.

* * *

After we ate, I collected the plates, and she described what she’d discussed with Diggler.

“That old man is every bit the jerk you said he was,” she agreed with me. “But I think it will be easier to work with him than to change him.”

“Ooo-kay,” I gave her some leeway to see where she was going.

“He wants you to study for and pass three exams.”

“Mom, I know the material. But he just asks these mixed up questions and pulls answers out of the air.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. But if you pass these three exams, he’ll pass you for the course—with an ‘A’ even.”

I shook my head. She had no idea how messy and botched a question Diggler could ask.

“He suggested I help you study, and I intend to do just that. I’ll call your father and tell him that I need to stay here a bit longer to help you study and prepare. I’ll be your study buddy, and you’ll ace that old jerk’s exams, and we’ll go out to dinner to celebrate when you pass he third one and are finally done with this nasty old man.”

I shook my head. “Mom, Diggler’s questions are—”

“Bryan, when did man land on the moon?”

“Hmm? 1969.”

“Exactly right,” she smiled. Then she stood and stepped to me, leaned down and kissed me on the lips for several seconds.

My eyes were a little wide when she broke the kiss. “Uhm ... do we kiss on the lips?”

“We do now,” she smiled and shrugged. “Dr. Diggler suggested it—positive reinforcement. Every time you get an answer right, I will give you a kiss. Until you know the material forward and backward and ace his lousy exams.”

I wasn’t sure about it, about any idea of Diggler’s, but she looked so determined and enthused that ... “Well,” I shrugged, “let’s give it a try.”

“That’s the attitude,” she beamed.

And we did. We studied much of Saturday and Sunday. And ... kissed a lot.

Mom’s ... how do I say this? ... Mom’s not a bad kisser. Not at all. Her lips are softer than Lisa’s.

I, uhm ... found myself looking forward to getting each answer right. Mom’s ... yeah, okay, Mom’s a hot kisser.

On Sunday, she called Dad about 7:00 and told him she was staying with me longer. From her side of the conversation, it sounded like he was inconvenienced a bit by it, especially with having to fix his own meals, but understood that it would save money by keeping me from losing the scholarships.

* * *

On Monday, well ...

The words I said to Mom on Saturday were true and sincere, and I didn’t want her to be too ashamed about coming back from Diggler’s meeting and then—I suspected—masturbating in the bathroom. And trying to sneak naked to the bedroom. And doing something with her panties and my toothbrush.

I didn’t want her to wallow in too much shame over those things. But ... those things were not my mom. She just didn’t do things like that. Mom?! Masturbating?! Never! I mean, my conception was the only time she ever even had sex.

And I wondered just what the hell Diggler did to confuse her. He’d done a job on Lisa’s mind. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to do anything similar to Mom’s!

So I headed over to his office about 2:00 to demand just what the HELL he thought he was doing to my mom!

When I got to his office, Alice McGuire, the university brainiac, was stepping out of his office.

She was ... in her bra ...

The, uhm ... school brainiac must have ... taken off her blouse and was coming out of his office in her bra ...

What the ... hell do you say about something like that ... ?

She grinned, stepped to me, pressed her lips to mine and ... stuck her tongue in my mouth.

I was ... stunned. Though ... later when I thought about it, she was a better kisser than Lisa, but not as good as Mom ...

When she broke the kiss, she smiled and walked away dreamily.

Whew!

Okay, I told myself, don’t let that take the steam out of me. I was still pissed at Diggler and intended to demand that he leave my mom alone.

I stepped into his office, determined, and began making demands.

Somewhere in the middle there, I sort of lost track. I mean, I was telling him just what he would and would not do, and then ... I was in the hallway, heading to my car to drive home. And carrying along the hardest erection I can ever remember having. I wanted nothing so much as to get home and just start stroking off some orgasms while I fantasized about ...

No, I jerked my mind back, she was NOT for me to fantasize about.

I was NOT going to think about ... her.

I got in my car and drove home. How I did not have an accident driving, while I pressed my fist to my crotch and straining dick—well, I’m not sure how I did it.

I got to my apartment and let myself in. Mom was not there, though ... I’m not sure I would have stopped even if she were, my hard on was so insistent.

I headed back to my room, stripping clothes as I went, then sat on my bed, gripped my stiffie in my fist, determined to NOT fantasize about her ...

Actually ... I vaguely recalled some other time, coming away from a meeting with Diggler with all my thoughts and fantasies suddenly hovering around Mom. But I was not going to do that, I was not going to fantasize about HER ...

Like when she dropped her towel the other night, and her little nipples were just soooooo excited ...

Dammit! My pecker just spat juice all over the floor at that flash of memory about her ...

And I’d said I wasn’t going to fantasize about her. That I was NOT going to think about her jiggling naked up the hall after—

My erection was already reinflating.

I quickly gave up on not thinking about her, and just started stroking to ... Mom.

I stroked and stroked, hour after hour.

Reflecting back on it later—in shame—I know I was vaguely aware that the apartment door opened and closed, but didn’t even think about Mom getting back and coming up the hall.

I did notice her when she stepped into my doorway and gasped. At her son sitting there, stroking himself furiously. To fantasies of her, had she known. But I was ... too close to stop. As she watched, I ... grunted and clenched. And squirted semen all over my hand.

She just ... stared the whole time.

Then she whimpered and hurried back to the spare bedroom and closed the door.

It didn’t even faze me. I just kept stroking. To images of her. Doing ... slutty things, I’m ashamed to say ...

I felt so overcharged that I couldn’t stop. And I just stroked one after another out.

Through the rest of the evening and into the night.

I heard her muffled gasps and moans coming through the walls as she must have been ... doing similarly.

And that just urged me onto another round of stroking.

Finally in the wee hours there somewhere, I fell asleep.

* * *

Just like Saturday was for Mom, Tuesday was my morning to brace for the shame before walking out to the kitchen.

Had I actually ... stroked and ejaculated while Mom gasped from the doorway?!

While I fantasized about ... her?!

Then she’d scampered off—thank God!—and I’d continued stroking, erupting in orgasm after orgasm ...

And it sounded like she ... did the same thing from the other room ...

So I’d listened all night to the song of her cumming, and she’d listened to—well, I guess mine probably sounded more like a primitive tribal chant, with grunts and moans, compared to her more musical delight.

Still.

In front of my own mom ...

God! I’d ... SQUIRTED ... in front of her ...

While ... thinking about her ... being a slut for me ...

Yeah: gonna burn in hell, I guess.

Well ... she’d been brave enough to come out Saturday morning. I could ... go bear my own shame.

I wandered out to the kitchen.

Mom was there, sipping coffee. “Hi darling,” she said after swallowing, “I just got up a few minutes ago myself.” She grinned. “Both of us sleepy heads, I guess.”

I gave a distracted smile—she was just trying to cheer me up—and poured myself some coffee, then sat and had a sip.

“Mom, I am SOOOOO sorry for last night! You walking in on that—“

“Hey! Cut that off right there, mister! None of that.” She waited for me to bring my eyes up off the table to meet hers. And her arched eyebrow. “It’s not like I was struck blind or anything,” she chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I’m ... kind of glad that you feel comfortable enough around me to do things like that.”

“But Mooom,” I moaned, “I—”

“You ejaculated,” she shrugged. “Men do that. No big deal.”

“But—”

She stood, stepped to me, sat down in my lap, and put her arms around my neck. “But nothing. Look, if we’re going to be study buddies, we’re going to have to be comfortable with each other.”

“But—”

“Hey,” she laid her finger over my lips, “I said: no buts. I really did not mind.” Her finger dropped from my lips to under my chin to pull my gaze up to hers. “Really.”

“Okay,” I nodded.

“Good answer,” she grinned, and kissed me on the lips as reward.

When she broke the kiss, I expected her to hop out of my lap, but she just stayed sitting there a while longer.

“God!” she grinned, “You were SOOOO excited last night—it was about like I felt on Friday night.“

“You—?!” I coughed slightly. ”YOU felt like that?“

She smiled at me, her eyes partaking in the sharing of a naughty secret, “Oh my, yes! I was ... simply—is it okay if I use the word ‘horny’ with you?”

I nodded.

“Bryan, I was simply horny out of my MIND Friday night. I don’t know what brought it on, but ... WOW!“

“Really?” I navigated gently, not believing she was sharing this, afraid the whole conversation would collapse if I misstepped. “You ... you get ‘horny’?”

OH, yeah!” she nodded. “Didn’t you wonder why I ... spent HOURS in the bath Friday afternoon?“

“A ... a little?”

“Well, I wasn’t soaping up the whole time,” she shared mischievously.

“You ... were ... ?”

She nodded. “I was.”

“Wow.”

“Could you, uhm ... I know I was, uhm ... whimpering a little. You couldn’t ... hear that through the door could you?”

“Uh ...” Well, we WERE being honest here. I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Just a little, yeah.“

“Ohgod!” she blushed and laughed.

“But I didn’t hear your moans at first. The first thing that I heard was ... the little splashing, I guess as your hand worked—”

“Ohgod!” she squeezed me and laughed, then calmed down. “Ohgod.”

“Did you—were you ... shocked when you walked in on me ... uhm ...”

“Jerking off?”

“Mom?! Language!”

“Yeah, good answer. I shouldn’t use language like that,” she kissed me on the lips, then continued, “When I walked in on you ‘masturbating’? Not shocked. I WAS surprised. I didn’t think you were comfortable enough around me to ... do that.“

“Normally, I’m not,” I interjected.

“Well, you just kept going. And seconds later, you ... bubbled over into your hands.”

“Yeah, I did,” I sighed. I hoped she didn’t ask who I was fantasizing about. I didn’t think I was ready to get THAT honest with her.

She gave a little chuckle. “Yeah, if we’re going to be study buddies, we’re going to have to be comfortable around each other.” She gave me a hug, then just continued sitting in my lap.

After a minute, I asked, “So ... were you trying to slip out and sneak up the hallway Friday night when you almost fell?”

She started giggling. “Sweetie, I was, uhm ... I was too horny to pull on clothes. I couldn’t stay in the bathroom any longer, or you would have thought I was insane, so I needed to get back to the bedroom. But I was too excited to take time out for conversation—I was REALLY horny, darling.“

“And you knew the door squeaked?”

“It heard it squeak when I shut it earlier, so I was careful opening it.” She laughed and kissed me on the cheek. “And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for the slippery floor right there.”

“Well, at least you didn’t get hurt!” I squeezed her with my arm that was wrapped around behind her.

She sighed, then kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you, darling.”

“For what?”

“For caring.”

I shrugged. “Dad cares.”

“Yeah,” she smiled and tapped me on the end of the nose with her index finger.

“Hey,” I took the opportunity, “what the hell—”

“Language, young man,” she grinned.

I looked at her with a little defiance in my eyes. “What the hell was it with—”

“Okay, okay,” she chuckled, “right answer. I should not nag about language. Right answer.” She pressed her lips to mine and gave me a reward kiss.

I was a little distracted when she pulled her lips away, and it took me a second to refocus. But I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to ask this. “What,” I took a deep breath, “what was the deal with your panties and my electric toothbrush.”

“Ohgod!” she blushed red and grinned. “Well ... you know how women sometimes use vibrators?”

My eyes widened. “Really?! What?!”

“Well, I WAS really, really, really, really horny as I sat in the bathtub ... ‘doing’ myself. And my eyes landed on your ... electric toothbrush.“

“No!”

“You know, it cleans by vibrating how many thousands of times a minute?”

“You didn’t!”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to put those bristle down on my ... sensitive parts. But the back of the head—and, ohgod, I am so sorry, darling. I know—I know that goes in your mouth, but I was just too horny to think straight!”

“It’s—it’s okay. No worries.” I wanted to hear the rest of this.

“Well, I thought the back of the brushhead, which is smooth plastic might work—but then, I had an even better thought. With a few layers of silk between me and the hard vibrating plastic, it might ... feel even better. And I had silk in the bathroom with me! So I wrapped my little pink silk panties around the brushhead—and I apologize again, darling. I know that part goes in your mouth, and you probably don’t want silk that’s been all over your mother’s privates touching that, but—”

“Really, I don’t mind.” I pressed my lips to hers and kissed her a few seconds. “I don’t mind.”

“But I ... didn’t give any correct answers,” she wondered, referring to the kiss.

“But I did. I don’t mind you doing that with my toothbrush.”

“Oh.” It took her a few seconds to get her mind back on track. “So I wrapped the panties around the brushhead, then put it between my legs and turned it on, and ... ohgaaawwwwwd, it was nice!”

“I think—I think I heard you squeal through the door when you did that.”

“Oh! You probably did! I hushed as soon as I caught myself doing it, but that first time I turned it on ... well, mmm.”

“That’s a riot,” I chuckled.

“I was just ... to horny to think straight.”

I put my lips to hers and kissed her for some seconds.

“What was ... that for ... ?”

“Not a specific right answer, but a general right answer. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to talk with me about things like that.”

“Well we’re going to have to be if we’re going to be study buddies.” Then she pressed her lips to mine and rewarded me for my own right answer for several seconds.

We broke the kiss slowly, and she lingered in my lap.

“Do you ... do you have a vibrator, Mom?”

“Well ... first of all, you can’t call me ‘Mom’ when you ask a question like THAT. Call me ‘Trish’. That’s what my boyfriends always called me.”

“Okay, ‘Trish.’”

She gave me a kiss—must have been for getting her name correct.

“And no, not really. I mean, I’ve seen them and even tried them—out of curiosity. But I don’t actually ‘own’ a vibrator.”

“Well, you are welcome to borrow my toothbrush anytime you want.”

“Yeah, but you don’t want it back after I do that, do you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

She gave me the one brow up, one brow down thing. “After it’s been up next to my private parts? And with my silk panties wrapped around it?”

“I don’t mind,” I assured her.

“Well,” she smiled, “I guess that’s a—”

“Yes, it’s a right answer,” I told her, then waited for my reward kiss, which came momentarily.

We each ... gave a few free reward kisses to each other ...

* * *

Things went like that for a while. We did a lot of studying. Did a lot of kissing.

A few mornings after that “study buddy” session, I came out to the breakfast table and gave Trish a passionate good morning kiss without even thinking about it.

“What was, uh—what right answer was that for?” she giggled.

Oops. “Uh, well, you owe me a right answer now, don’t you?”

She shrugged with a grin. “Okay: I owe you one right answer. You let me know when you need it.”

“Now that itself is a right answer,” I leaned in to give her a reward kiss.

She held her index finger up at my lips to halt me. “This won’t mean I owe you two right answers, will it?”

“Nope. Just the one.”

She dropped her finger, and I rewarded her.

* * *

I was learning massive amounts of material—I think you can understand why.

All it takes is a pretty lady around, rewarding you with kisses.

About a month after that first week of her visiting, Mom was sitting in my lap since we were in the middle of studying, and she called Dad to tell him she was going to be staying with me another week. He’d decided he’d had about enough of his wife being away.

“Howard,” Trish sighed, “it’s for a direct dollar reward: if Bryan studies hard enough, he’ll pass the three exams, and keep his scholarships. If he doesn’t, this nasty Dr. Diggler will try to play heck with him, and he could very well lose the scholarships, and you and I will have to come up with the money.”

“It’s time—the boy just needs to—” Dad was talking angrily enough that could barely hear his voice coming across the phone. Mom saw me listening, then grinned and held the phone out in the middle between us. “... needs to get by on his own ... can’t coddle ... really having a hard time of it without you ... digestive tract all out of whack with these ... half-prepared meals ...”

She looked at me and rolled her eyes, then held the phone above us at arms length and leaned in to press her lips to mine. We made out a couple minutes while Dad mumbled static over the phone.

The we both noticed he had gone silent, and we broke the kiss. “Sorry, Howard,” Mom apologized as she brought the phone back to her ear. “I had to set the phone down for a sec while I got this blanket from the top shelf. Well, I caught what you said. No, I am not ‘coddling’ him. Howard—Howard, don’t be a jerk. I’m helping out son, and I’m helping us financially to the tune of several thousand dollars in scholarships. Well, your digestive tract can just,” she rolled her eyes for me, “adapt. I still can’t believe your mother never taught you to cook for yourself. And it’s not too late to learn now, mister!” She sighed. “Howard, stop it. Don’t say things you’re going to regret later. No, I—... No, I an NOT going to—Howard, listen to me right now, you need to—How—Howard.” Mom’s eyes were starting to get very angry. “Asshole!” she finally barked into the phone and pressed the disconnect button.

I didn’t even joke about her language. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard Mom call anyone an asshole.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Jerk!” she fumed. “Trying to lay out demands! Like he can just ORDER me back there to cook and clean for him!“

She looked at me then. “I’m sorry. You’re important to your father too. He just ... gets obsessed about his eating schedule sometimes and forgets. We both love you, darling.”

“Hey, don’t polish the story. We’re study buddies. We’re comfortable talking to each other, and we’re honest with each other. Are you okay?”

A little smile bubbled onto her face, and she kissed me for saying the correct thing. “I just—he can be a real jerk sometimes.”

“Yes, he can.”

“I mean, here you and I are, saving the family thousands with your scholarships. And he’s ... worried about his feeding schedule. Oh, he makes me mad! Can’t he SEE?!“

I wrapped my arms around her and just held her a few minutes while she sat in my lap.

“He never made me happy,” she whispered finally.

Wow. I didn’t know she felt like—

“I’m sorry,” she immediately continued whispering. “That’s too much. I—Sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Wrong answer,” I whispered back. “We’re comfortable talking about things with each other.”

She wrapped her arms around me tight and hugged me—a little fiercely. “I love you,” she whispered, then clung to me.

I just held her. She was upset.

After a couple minutes, she eased her grip and leaned back a little. There were tears in her eyes. “That was ... the right answer,” she whispered. “Thank you for being there for me, someone I can talk to.”

I just nodded. Then brushed the tears off her cheeks with my fingertips.

“Yeah,” she gave a faint smile, still speaking in a whisper, “no, he never made me happy. I tried to help him be a better person—you’re our son, for chrissake. But ... well ...”

“You know he doesn’t deserve you,” I whispered. “Never has ...”

She looked at me, studying my eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she leaned away. “He’s your father. Even if we can ... talk about anything, you and I ... I shouldn’t talk to you about this. I—” She stood up out of my lap.

“Trish?”

“I’m sorry,” she headed back to her bedroom. “I shouldn’t—I can’t—”

She stayed in her room the rest of the night.

At 8:00, I fixed her a turkey frozen dinner and some tea. I have a little half-stool half-end-table thing that I set outside her door and laid the food and drink on, then knocked on the bedroom door and walked back out to the main room. I heard her open the door a few minutes after that, and when I went by later, the end table was empty, so I felt good about that—at least she wasn’t too depressed or conflicted to eat.

I vegged in front of the TV until 11:00, then called good night through the door and went to bed.

Around 1:00, I woke to Mom easing herself onto the other side of the bed. “Hmm?” I asked groggily.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Do you mind if I lay here? I just ... want someone to cuddle with.”

“Sure,” I whispered. Then Mom crawled into bed, put her arms around my neck and laid her head next to my shoulder. I wrapped my other arm over her shoulder.

Soon enough, we were both asleep.

In the morning, when I woke up, I was spooning her. She was in a full set of pajamas, but I was in just my boxers and T-shirt. I sort of had a hard-on nestled up to her butt, though ... I just laid there. It wasn’t worth making a fuss over.

After a while, I fell back asleep, and we both woke around 9:00, with me still spooning her.

“Hi, beautiful,” I sighed. She kissed me for having a correct answer, then we both got up.

Things felt ... good. Warm.

All was good in the—

Oh crap.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

“Uhh, Trish,” she smiled sweetly at me calling her like her boyfriends did, “Uh, call me dense, but this just occurred to me right now. When you walked in on me jerking off that Monday afternoon ... you didn’t pass out or run off screaming or anything.”

“No, I just felt glad that you felt comfortable enough to jerk off in front of me.”

“And horny. You felt horny too.”

“Ohgod, yes!”

“And you ran off to your room and played with yourself too.”

“Yeah,” she smiled wistfully and blushed.

And I listened to her sing orgasms all night long. It was wonderful, but—that wasn’t like Mom. So this was where I was heading: “Where ... where did you go out to? That afternoon before you came back to the apartment—where were you?”

“Oh, I’d gone to see Dr. Diggler again. To talk about how weird I’d felt after I’d gone to see him the first time, that I came home horny out of my mind, which isn’t like me at all.”

Oh ... crap!

“And what did he say? When you asked him about that.” Before she came home to ... see me cum in front of her and then go diddle herself the rest of the night.

“I don’t really remember.” Crap! Just like when I visited to demand he leave Mom alone! “But then I came home and found you comfortable enough to stroke yourself right in front of me, and I was horny out of my mind all over again. And went to play with myself all night long.” Which was wonderful, and sexy as hell, but not normally a Mom thing to do.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!

How far did this man’s evil influence go ... ?!

Diggler! What have you DONE to us?!