The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dr. Mind’s New Family

Sunday

We were in the living room and talking about mom.

“When do we expect her to wake up from her nap?” my sister Cheryl asked.

“I put her down two hours ago so she should be up soon,” my father Robert answered.

I was about to ask, “so, what’s the plan?” and “what are we going to do with her?” when my mother tottered into view.

She was naked, save an adult diaper. However, she wasn’t embarrassed nor did she feel out of place in anyway. In fact, to the contrary, she had a playfully mischievous smile on her face as she gnawed on the tip of her finger. Combined with her mussed-up, curly, shoulder length chestnut hair, she looked as if she got into the cookie jar. Again. Her slightly saggy, but plump D-cup breast hung in front of her as if she hadn’t a care in the world about them, though the air conditioning was causing her nipples to harden. Her chubby, creamy thighs crammed together as she dug her bare toes into the carpet. Once she was sure, absolutely sure that we were all staring at her, she pulled her finger from her mouth, smiled broadly and announced in a sharp whisper, “I went baffoom!” before blushing and giggling.

This is what we all woke up to on Saturday morning. My 45-year-old mother, realtor, and church-goer came home from some hypnosis show a sexually charged, fulltime adult baby. She had been like this all Columbus Day weekend. If you ask her how old she is, she struggles to hold up her index and middle finger, and lisps “two.” You try to put clothes on her, and she throws a fit like you wouldn’t believe, and even if you are successful, she is naked again once your back is turned. It is like she sincerely needs us all to watch her be a baby. The fact that her two children were gawking at her, mouths hanging open in astonishment only seemed to encourage her.

She really did wet herself, too. That also seems to give her pleasure, and she especially wants us to change her; in fact, she is already lying on her back on the carpeting and spreading her legs to be attended to. Dad sighs and gets up, and instead of changing his wife’s wet diaper in front of his aghast children, he helps the giggling woman to her feet, to do his husbandly/fatherly duty in the master bedroom. I have to admit though, I surreptitiously watched him change her last night. I watched my mind-fucked mother grind her (bald?) pussy into my father’s hand as he wiped her down and heard her giggle and orgasm. That image has yet to leave my teenage, hormone-filled brain.

Cheryl was fuming—she was a third-year law student and considered herself quite the attorney already. She has taken the role of “problem-solver” from my father, who as a janitor and lacking a formal education often feels overwhelmed by complicated issues. Cheryl, for example, made the final decision not to bring mom to a doctor or the police yet, because there would be no way to do so without embarrassing her and ruining her reputation.

“So, here’s the plan, Dave,” she began once Dad had mom safely out of sight, “Dad and I are going to that club mom went to Friday night and confronting that fucking hypnotist-Dr. Mind or whatever. The way I see it, either he fixes this problem and fast, or I will rain hell down upon him.” She was likely referring to her “lawyer friends” that she name-drops constantly. In any event, Dad can always rain fists down on him, which was something that he was pretty confident at.

She continued, “You have to baby-sit mom.” She noticed my distressed face, as I was clearly worried at the prospect. “Don’t sweat it, just give her some cereal, put on some cartoons and she will pass out in front of the television.” That was true. Except for her over active libido, she was completely a little baby girl. She couldn’t—or wouldn’t—spell (we tested it), she cried over spilled milk (literally, this morning), and she has the attention span that the Disney Channel was made for.

“She’s watching cartoons now in our bedroom,” Dad said as he returned drying his hands in a washcloth. When we looked how much he was cleaning, he noted, “she did a number two as well,” before sighing loudly.

“So can you handle this Dave?” Cheryl asked.

“Yeah, I can manage. Just don’t stay out too long, ok?” I replied. Cheryl nodded reassuringly, “We will call and text to keep you in the loop.”

“And don’t hesitate to let us know what is going on, or if anything happens,” Dad finished. I nodded in understanding. Then, with a few goodbyes and good lucks, Cheryl left wearing her “powersuit” with Dad who was wearing his leather jacket. Both attempting to puff up and look as intimidating as possible. I turned to my laptop.

I had spent about thirty minutes online searching for “Dr Mind,” and “hypnosis” when I heard a crash in the kitchen. SHIT, I thought to myself. I had already forgotten how troublesome my mother was- is -as a toddler.

Rushing over, I felt like a parent. I have heard of that shiver parents get when it is “too quiet” only to have it followed by something disastrous. And for me, this was disastrous. My mother, who also was insisting we call her Punkin though her name was Ellen, was standing in front of the open refrigerator door. The milk had fallen at her toes, and was still “glug, glug, glugging” while spilling all over her bare feet. Mom was looking at me guiltily and about to cry. Evidently, she was planning on making herself chocolate milk, but got distracted and started squirting the chocolate syrup on her hand and licking it off. The evidence was all over her face, hands and breasts. My cock hardened in my pant and the image of my once-composed mother transformed into a nude babygirl.

With her lip curling and sobs coming out, she whimpered, “I sowwwwwy” and then crumpled onto the milk soaked floor and started weeping.

“No, no, it’s ok Mom...,” I tried to comfort her. Her large breasts were heaving as she cried.

That sent her into a mood swing, “I’m not a mommy!” she shrieked and smacked the wet floor, “I’m a punkin!” It was sad, it was funny, and admittedly, I couldn’t stop staring at her huge tits.

I had to give her a bath. With extra care not to get chocolate on the furniture or walls, I led my naked mother into the bathroom. This was a bit difficult because mom is a tall woman-nearly 5′10″ with some thickness to her-and I’m neither tall nor muscular enough to support her if she actually fell. She had calmed down some, but was still cowed by getting caught and was being very compliant. Even the way she walked was babyish. She waddled, unsure of her balance gripping me for any support I could give.

With some effort, I got her to the bathroom and sat her on the toilet and started to run the water. “Bubbles!!!!” mom screamed and began giggling. I nodded, and felt that Cheryl wouldn’t mind me using her fancy lavender bubble bomb she got from a spa in Vegas. As the tub erupted in fragrant purple bubbles and I tested the water to ensure it wasn’t too hot, mom asked,

“Day-wee, am me pwetty?” I turned back to look at my mother. Her eyes were full of expectation and innocence as she turned her body back and forth, making her breasts sway back and forth. Her face and breasts was also covered in sticky chocolate sauce. We stared at each other, as she continued to giggle.

“Yeah, sure, mo-Punkin, you’re very pretty.” Mom squealed as she stood and wiggled her diapered ass in my face, giving me the opportunity to take it off of her. I slowly did, noting how plump my mother’s backside was. She reveled in my attention, her newly implanted fetish overcoming any maternal instincts she may still have. She continued giggling and jiggling as I helped her sit in the warm, soapy water.

My dirty mother looked up at me as if I was forgetting something. I raised an eyebrow.

“Day-wee! You have cwean da baby!” more jiggling of her ample chest. The tightness in my pants made me ache as I grabbed a near by loofa. “Just keep calm, this is going to get fixed... I will just get some therapy and everything will ok,” I thought as I splashed some warm water on her breasts and began to scrub away the chocolate as my babified mother cooed happily.

My mother, whom most of my friends believe to be one of the strictest women in the neighborhood, whom demanded so much discipline from me and my sister, whom insisted on church on Sundays (we obviously skipped today), happily allowed me to wash her breasts. And, I must guiltily admit, I let myself enjoy it-fondling them as much as I washed them. I caught a moment where she smirked, hinting that she knew what I was doing.

As I left her now clean titties and moved to scrub her face, I looked deep into her eyes. “Maybe I can get through to her,” I reasoned to myself.

“Mom, you have to cut this out... you’re scaring me, scaring Dad and Cheryl too! Mom, you’re not a baby!”

Instantly her brow furrowed, her happy face turning into a petulant pout.

“Day-wee, da docta wif the pwetty watch said me is a big, ’tupid, swutty baby, wif big titties! I wuv being a baby and suckin my nappies and pwaying wif stuffies!” Her voice was babyish and high-pitched as she ‘explained’ something so obvious to her. She splashed the water and started taking a fascination on how her tits bobbed in the water.

I stood up, frustrated.

“Day-wee... yor nappie is stiffy...,” she reached out and grabbed my crotched without any gentleness... like a little girl who didn’t understand how to have a light touch when petting a dog.

“Ahhh.. mom!” I shrieked in pain and surprise.

Maintaining her infantile voice, she whispered, talking directly to my cock in my shorts, “I’m Punkin, Mista Nappie.” In her grip she pulled me closer to the edge of the tub. Struggling roughly with my shorts, she grunted and whined while I winced in pain. She was getting greedy.

“Day-wee, gimme! Mine! Mine!”

Finally, I relented, and unzipped and I heard my mother let out a thrilled gasp. Unlike an actually baby, my mother has fairly large hands, with long fingers, long arms and a broad back. She was easily able to wrap her arms around my waist and pull towards her mouth. I had to stumble and put one sandaled foot into the bubbly tub to avoid falling over.

“MMMMM....” She gurgled as she gave me my first blow job of my life. Who ever Dr. Mind was, he made my mother very, very oral. I sat on the edge of the tub as she continued to suck needfully until I came. Some got into her mouth, which caused her to giggle in surprise and pull back as the rest of my load hit her in the face. She looked at me with pride.

“Fwozen?”

“Huh?”

“I wanna watch Fwozen! OWAF!” she started splashing cheerfully in the water.

“Umm, okay... Punkin.”

With another baby-ish shriek, she trust forward and gave me a smooch on the lips!

I stood up, leaving my sandal in the tub. “Ok, ok, let’s get you out of there before you become a raisin,” I said, quoting what she used to say to me when I was little. I was already trying to act like she didn’t just suck me off. She hopped up and stared down on me, her naked body glistening, with flows of soap streaming down her curves. I pulled over a large Turkish towel and began to dry her as she pressed into me, giving me a tender hug. “I wuv you, Day-wee.”

“I wuv, achem, love you too Punkin,” I smiled to her, “lets get your diaper back on, ok?”

“NO! Nakey!”

“Punkin,” I began.

“NO! No diapee! Nakey!” She fondled a large tit as she made her argument clear.

“No accidents, then, okay sweety?”

“Okies..” she demurred. I relented, having already failed to get her to do anything she didn’t want to do since we discovered her this weekend reduced into a baby-slut. Once dry, my mother toddled naked into the living room and plopped down onto the couch and curled into one of the throw blankets. I stood in the bathroom breathing deeply, still recovering. At least I did until I heard her cry, “OWAF! OWAF!” I hate that fucking snowman.

We ended up watching the movie twice, my mother demanding to spend the entire time on the couch with her as she bounced and sang along off key, unable to retain what the words of the song actually were. Oddly, the wide, wonder-filled eyes of young Anna and Elsa seemed so much like my mother’s eyes now-so full of wonder for everything. After the second viewing, and bowing to her pressures of starting it up again, my mother snuggled into me sleepily, placing her head in my lap. Again, guiltily (though less than earlier), I took out my “nappie”. This time she didn’t suck on it like she did in the bathroom. Rather, she took my cock into her warm mouth, and held it there. Occasionally I would feel a gentle suck, but nothing meant to stimulate me. Soon I noticed, she was asleep, and she was truly using my penis as her pacifier. It was late, and I was profoundly exhausted, and I drifted off too.

Monday

The doorbell rang. That is what brought me back to the world. It took me a few moments to remember where I was, and what was going on. And why my flaccid cock was still in my naked mother’s mouth. I gently removed myself from her and almost instinctually, she pulled her right toe up to her mouth and began sucking on it. She didn’t even wakeup.

The doorbell rang again.

Oh god! “Where were my father and sister!” I freaked. They had been gone all night, fourteen hours. I began to fear that the police were at the door with bad news. I began moving fast, lest they ring again and wake up the naked middle-aged woman who acts like a nympho toddler. What I saw once I opened up the door was perhaps worse than the police. He got them too: Dr. Mind.

My sister had always been an avid tennis player; in fact, she had a partial scholarship in her undergrad. Consequently, she had a tennis player’s body-thick muscular legs, a tight and taught tummy, and a tan to kill for. I could now confirm all of these traits because she was standing on the other side of the door, dressed in her tennis sneakers, tiny ankle socks, and tennis skirt. Up top, she only wore a baby-blue sports bra over her pert C-cup breasts-all things she probably had in her gym bag in her car. But there was more, she had weird colorful bracelets on her wrists, and her rich brown hair were in messy pigtails sprouting off the side of her head, and someone face painted a pair of cherries on her left cheek. She was hopping up and down in an excitable way, sucking on a lollypop, while holding my father’s hand.

Oh, my poor father... All of his self-confidence was absent on his confused and shy-looking face. He was barefoot, and wearing clothes way too small for him, clothes meant for a young boy. My father was a big man, a strong man. But seeing him in a Pokemon t-shirt that left his hairy stomach exposed, and tight shorts, that rode up into wedgie. And even though I had spent two days dealing with my naked, hyper-sexual mother I still groaned unhappily when I saw the tip of my father’s member poking out of the shorts at his left thigh. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and he didn’t seem to notice or mind. He clutched his daughter’s hand like it was a lifeline.

“Cheryl...,” I croaked, “Dad”?

“I like Cherwy now!” my sister snapped back, “Docta Mind saids its better, AND. I. AGREE!” She stamped her foot and spoke with all the authority of the first-grade queen bee I heard she once was.

“And don’t you call Daddy, Daddy! He’s Bobby now, and he’s MY boyfweind, and we are gonna play, so there!” She challenged. My father quickly nodded his head in agreement, and murmured, “I’m Bobby.”

Deep breath. “Cheryl....”

“CHERWY!” Cheryl replied and pointed at her painted face with a “duh, stupid” look that was actually familiar on her petulant face.

“Ok, Cherry. What the heck happened?” I asked as I moved out of their way. Cheryl skipped into the house, dragging Dad along with her possessively. He willingly lumbered along.

In a sing-song voice, Cheryl explained, “Welllll, me an’ Bobby went to the Docta’s show, and we wuz watchin him cause he was up on da stage, and then we followed him behind the stage to yell at him for making Mommy a wittle baby!” Bobby nodded enthusiastically in confirmation.

“So I called him a doody head, but I didn’t say ‘doody’, I used a bad word. And he said that if me and Bobby were gonna act like little kids, den we should be little kids!”

“Yup,” my father agreed.

“So then, Bobby called Docta Mind ‘stupid,’ but he didn’t say the word ‘stupid’ cause he said another bad word, and then the Docta said something else and me and Bobby started gigglin’,” she continued, and giggled at her own story.

“Docta Mind is really funny, Davey,” my father added.

“Uhuh, he is! So me and Bobby was laughing and then Docta Mind became a tickle monsta!”

“He wasn’t really a tickle monsta, Davey,” Dad assisted, “it was just Docta Mind being silly and tickling us!” I unfortunately noticed my father getting hard as he talked about his tickle monster experience. Even more unfortunate, “Cherry” noticed too and her hand grabbed it and pulled it free from his shorts and started stroking.

“So after tickle time, we watched da’ Wiggles and Docta Mind helped us out of our old people clothes, and we did face painting, and we got ice cweam,”

“ICE CWEAM!” my father giggled as his body shook slightly as his hand job continued. He meekly grasped at his daughter’s body for support, holding her and as he did, he started planting little affectionate kisses on her lithe neck.

Cheryl went on, “Docta Mind is the bestest and smartest, so when he say we is little kids, me and Bobby are gunna listen, cause Bobby is a good little boy and I am good wittle girl!” she shook her pert tits at me for emphasis. The two had fallen back onto a loveseat, and Bobby was now humping his hips, grinding his naked cock into his daughter’s muscular thigh while clutching her needfully.

“Tell Davey about being boyfriend-girlfriend, Cherwy,” Dad whined, and began sucking on Cheryl’s neck. She began breathing heavily and rubbing her bald exposed pussy ungracefully.

“Yeah, so Docta Mind says dat cause’ me and Bobby have big boobies and a big winky like a mommy and daddy, we should pway house! And I am da mommy and Bobby is the daddy!”

“Bobby is your daddy, Cheryl,” I snap!

Both Dad and Cheryl stop. Tears well in my fathers eyes, as well as Cheryl’s, but the little brat won’t be cowed. She always knows better, “Noooooooooo, dummy. Me and Bobby are little kids. Docta Mind says YOUUUUU need to keep bein our babysitter cause we’s can get hurt.”

“Yah, Davey!,” my father continued, “we is stoopid too-STOOPID, little kids!” and poked his temple while her and Cheryl made a series of funny faces demonstrating their stupidity.

As Dad’s powerful but timid hands wandered all over his daughter’s taught, tight body, pulling out her breasts, nibbling on her shoulder, her voice became husky-even adult-like. She stared me down, a knowing smirk on her face. She could tell I was getting aroused.

The Following Monday

“I get it now,” I think as I get out of bed. I truly get what Dr. Mind had intended for us, and I wish I hadn’t put up such a fight. He knew what my family needed. I get up from my bed and delicately stroll to the full length mirror, looking at myself smiling as I gently stroked my hair and appreciated how fetching I looked in my mother’s satin nightie. My waxed legs gleamed from the light coming in from the window as I checked out how the thong made my butt look.

It’s 11am. We tend to get up late in this house now. Like clockwork, Punkin comes waddling into my room, clad in only her diaper, her huge breasts swinging as she picked up speed once she made eye contact with me. “MOMMY!” she shrieked and giggled as she threw herself into me. As she pushed her tongue sloppily into my mouth, I think again, “I get it now...and.... It’s sooo hot.”

I get that, deep-down, my 45-year-old mother knows she isn’t 2-year-old baby. She actually can read. She can remember being a realtor. She can remember giving birth to me and my sister. But this is a FETISH. She was programmed with a desire, and her desire rules her. She loves me as her son. I am sure she wants me to go to college, but seeing me dressed as a mommy, drives her insane with lust. See, I have a fetish now too.

Like any 17-year-old boy, having a naked woman press her big tits into me would make me rock hard—and I am. But I also have my cock tied back because my Fetish is being a good mommy and a good wife. A teenage boy playing housewife? It is soooo, sexy. My husband told me so. So while watching my mother skip naked around the house all the time makes the teenage boy in me crazy, all I want to do is be a sexy wifey. Punkin pulls back from my mouth, saliva dripping between our mouths, and I can see in her eyes, she gets my Fetish too.

Sucking on her finger, she stands back from me pressing her knees together letting our lust smolder as we stared at each other.

“Mommy’s precious Punkin’ want to go down stairs and have breakfast?” I asked sweetly, with my most motherly female voice.

With wide eyes and a smile, my mother nodded her head in assent. I take her hand, and helped her down the stairs, taking each step carefully, one by one. The landing of the stairway terminates near a large picture window that looks out onto our porch. One of the windows is open, so I can smell a mixture of stale beer, cigarette smoke and marijuana, as well as hear some death metal along with some other human sounds. I stand before the window in only my sexy nighty—part of me screaming inside, part of me creaming—and watched Grandma “Raven” swapping spit with my best friend Mikey as she gave him a hand job as Grandpa “Knife” is getting his dick sucked by my now ex-girlfriend Melissa.

Brief Flashback You see, after watching with disbelief as my father rubdowned and then had awkward sex with my sister for nearly 30 minutes before cumming all over the carpet, and then after ANOTHER round of Frozen with all three of my mind-fucked family members singing along at the top of their lungs and dancing around like morons (or rather, like children), I had panicked and called Melissa and Mikey and then called my grandparents. I wasn’t thinking straight, everything was so fucked up and I needed as much help as I could muster. I was desperate. They all arrived nearly at the same time.

I really didn’t want to have my closest friends (and my first girlfriend ever) see my family naked and infantilized, but they were the best people I knew. Mikey and I started a peer mediation program at our school and that’s how I met Melissa. Like Mikey, she genuinely cared about people, and we soon became inseparable. And to their credit, they didn’t laugh, or balk. Melissa squeezed my hand and comforted me while Mikey composed himself and set to getting a shopping list prepared, since I couldn’t leave the house to restock on food. Then Grandma Catherine and Grandpa Hollis arrived, both in their drabby retirement clothing, looking like a contemporary American Gothic painting. They didn’t take everything as well as my friends. When her daughter came waddling toward her, naked save a diaper, pacifier in her mouth, shrieking “mama! dada!” and attempted to pull Grandma’s breast from her sweater to suck on, Grandma began screaming and slapping at her, causing mom to start crying. Mikey and Melissa had to block Grandpa Hollis from his charge toward my father who was shrinking back towards Cherry for protection. Grandpa, I suppose, didn’t like that they were undressed and cuddling.

Though I didn’t think so at the time, thank god Dr. Mind walked in moments after my grandparents. Then everything that happened, happened so very quickly. The screaming died down as Grandma began swaying back and forth with distant eyes and a placid smile on her face. Dr. Mind had put her under so quickly! She was so deeply hypnotized that she lazily helped her 45-year-old daughter pull one of her large breasts free and suckle her as she continued to stare into the distance smiling. Dr. Mind snuck up behind Grandpa, Mikey and Melissa as they struggled and with what seemed like a word and a flick of his wrists, the three of them we smiling blankly, too. I began to back away, I was so frightened especially when the tall, dark man turned his attention to me.

“Grandpa!” I screamed, hoping I could snap him out of it. He had focused his tranced gaze toward the spinning ceiling fan and did not respond.

I backed up into my grandmother, who had also focused her blissed-out eyes on the ceiling fan. I shook her, but she just kept staring as she gently stroked her daughter’s hair as she hungrily sucked on her nipple. I kept backing up, and actually thought I could make a break for it. Dr. Mind laughed.

“Children, did you know that David has JELLYBEANS in his pockets?” he inquired out loud.

My father and Cheryl were on their feet at attention like threated prairie dogs. Even mom stopped nursing. Their eyes were wide with joyous excitement.

“JELLY BEANS!” my sister shrieked, “Do you really have jelly beans Davey?”

“I wan jelly beans, Davey...” my father continued. I heard my mother reverently mutter “jehwy beans..” behind me.

“He has jelly beans, kiddos. But he says you have to find them! I think they are in his pockets!” Dr. Mind explained.

Have I mentioned how fit my sister is? Before I could blink, my 23-year-old sister’s tight, toned and tanned body had tackled me to the floor as she giggled, “jelly beans!” It was a game to her and her hands began to explore my body in search of candy. Soon my father had lumbered over and joined Cheryl, gleefully giggling about the jellybeans he was going to find. Even my mother crawled over. And I was unable to get away.

I looked up to the hypnotist who strolled over, and braced myself as he said, “Hello honey.” Something happened then, and I smiled. And Dr. Mind explained everything.

Everything was sorted out by that night. I had dressed in my mother’s tight jeans, and a nice sweater, with makeup done as perfect as I could. I made myself busy in the kitchen preparing dinner. I had Cherry and Bobby play nearby so I could watch them—those rascals could get into such trouble, and a good mother makes sure she knows what her kids are up too. Punkin’ giggled and coo’d as my handsome hubby bounced her up and down on his knee, tickling her all over. I didn’t want my baby over excited before she ate, but I’m a straight teenage boy, and seeing my adult baby mother get molested by an insane hypnotist was part of my FETISH. It was all our fetishes.

I only needed to prepare dinner for the five of us. My grandparents, Mikey and Melissa had their own programming. Gathering the four of them together he reminded Grandma Catherine and Grandpa Hollis how they are just into teenagers like Mikey and Melissa. I watched as they postures changed, immediately relaxing and slumping. It seemed so clear, of course grams and gramps wanted to recapture their youth! They were high school sweethearts and fell in love when they were irresponsible and immature. That was what they wanted, no, needed—to act like stupid teens again. My new husband had already given me my huge housewife fetish, so I was enjoying my “children” exploring my body for hidden candy as I watched him work over my eldest children. He directed their attention to Mikey and Melissa who were still dazed and confused. “Aren’t they awesome?” Dr. Mind asked, as Grandma and Grandpa nodded in agreement, “They are totally your crowd.” He spoke globally, so Mikey and Melissa were paying attention, each basking in the coolness of the other. What made them so cool? Well they were the bad kids, the rebels—moody and dark. They were teenagers! Almost fucking adults, and were sick and tired of all the sheep telling them what to do. Luckily, they would learn they could hang out at my house; I was a cool mom that wouldn’t chastise them for being immature teens, smoking or drinking.

The four of them went out that night, and came home drunk two days later. My beautiful blonde girlfriend had dyed her hair black and wanted to be called Melllz (with three l’s), my grandfather wanted to be called Knife and had bought a switchblade to punctuate his name, his wife had shaven her head bald and was flaunting her chest in a fishnet top saying her name was Raven, and she and Mikey (kept his name) were an item. They were all sporting new tattoos, and piercings. Mikey and Melllz practically moved in, but the big rule is that they have to take their smoking outside to the porch.

Back to the Present That is why we got big cushy lounge chairs for the porch, since the kids were out there so much, smoking and getting high. Standing at the window next to me, my mother smiled at her parents fooling around with my closest friends. She had babysat Mikey when we were growing up after all. Despite loving my new life, I still had pangs of jealousy watching Melllz suck on Knife. We had only gotten to first base, and I had felt so comfortable with her. Apparently, Knife popped her cherry in the excitement after a shop lifting spree the two had gone on that first night as “bad kids”. That’s the girl Dr. Mind made my girlfriend into-a girl who gives absolutely no fucks. Well, except to my teenage grandfather.

Knife noticed me first, his man-lined eyes opening wide. “Hey mom!” he said without shame, adjusting his scrawny senior citizen body to take a drag on a cigarette, making his girl adjust along with him. I gave him a loving but chastising smile and cocked my hip, “Honestly, Hollis... smoking? And getting your teenaged cock sucked on the porch? The neighbors might see!” They would too... after my husband went over to visit Mr. and Mrs. Saifulah are obsessed with my family’s antics, it fuels her FETISH for voyeurism. Anywho, the calling my son a teenager triggered his fetish, and he began to jerk and cum into Melissa’s mouth.

“Ahhh.... Mom! I told you to call me Knife!” He groaned as he ejaculated, while pinching his pierced nipple. “Knife” was tattooed across his chest in block letters. As he settled, he looked at his babified daughter, “hey lil sis!” and winked. Punkin’ squealed “Brutter!” and pressed her bare tits against the cold window glass, shaking her diaper bottom in her happy dance. See, we all reinforce each other’s fetishes. When grandpa called me “Mom”, my cock jerked.

“Ok, ok, bad boy... Knife. But just make sure to use your real name on your job applications!” he sighed at that, so I continued “and how are you, Melissa?”

She had just finished swallowing grandpa’s load, and she sat up and took a hit off her boyfriend’s cigarette. She had on a skanky black tanktop but had her round right tit out, letting the huge octopus tattoo that covered it get some air and heal. She had matching nipple piercings. “I’m good Mrs. Mind! Though this asshole didn’t care that I’m totally hungover before he put his cock in my mouth!” she was smiling as she said it, and gave Knife a punch in the arm. My darling son just grabbed Melllz’ jet black hair and pulled her on top of him.

“Yeah bro!” cried Grandma, “Show that skank that she can’t hog all the pot!” Melllz just continued kissing her man and aimed her middle finger at my grandmother, her best friend. Raven snickered and repeated, “skank!” She had my best friends’ pierced cock firmly in her hand, adorned with black polish. She had a KORN cut-off t-shirt pull up over her plump, 64-year-old tits showing off her smoking pistol tattoos on the top of them. Raven was had the most work down, seemingly given to enjoy the pain of needles and piercings. She has a raven wrapping around behind her right ear, up to the crown of her shaved head, with tail feathers reaching down to her neck, and she seems to be planning getting a sleeve done on her right arm. Her ears have small gage earrings.

Raven has been dating Mikey for the past week, though her FETISH, and previous life as a recently retired high school civics teacher has unleashed quite the dormant “school slut” in her. In a few days, I learned she has been playing around with some other boys in the neighborhood—bad boys for a bad kid like her. No, Grandma Raven is too wild to be good girlfriend, even if she doesn’t neglect her boyfriend, Mikey. “Poor kid,” I think as he waves at me and says “thanks for talking to my parents about crashing here so much!”

“Not a problem, dear!” I say as my grandmother starts sucking on him. My dear husband and I paid a visit to Mikey’s parents. After the initial shock of seeing me in perfect makeup, 3″ pumps, and my mother’s best blouse, they came around. Dr. Mind turned Mikey’s parents and his sister’s attention to the finer points of Burning Man and what it truly means to be a “Burner.” Without a second thought of their oldest son, Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael quit their jobs and pulled their 13-year-old daughter Tara out of school. The next day, Mr. Carmichael jumped into his minivan wearing one of his wife’s dresses and flip flops, and his wife and daughter followed in matching leather bikinis and thigh high fur-lined Uggs, goggles on their eyes, and pigtails in their hair. My hubby likes for people to have fun.

Mikey gives me a wink before I walk away. He’s not completely cuckolded by my teenage daughter. He and I..... well..... Mikey has a huge MILF fetish, and I am a slutty MILF (or at least acting like one is my FETISH). So I may have hooked up with him the other night. Raven was out, no one knew where the hell she was; her brother was loudly fucking Melllz in my old room and Dr. Mind was at one of his shows, bringing home the bacon. Mikey was crashing on our living room couch, looking like a bad kid, and you know what bad kids do to MILF libidos? Anyway, I had put the rest of the kids to bed, and wandered downstairs. I was in my mother’s cute powder blue nightie and just had my legs waxed that afternoon. He stared at me—his best friend turned hot MILF and I saw his shorts tent and I blushed.

“Your really hot, Missus M.”

That’s all it took, and I was on my knees sucking on his cock. Mikey managed to take my MILF ass before Raven walked in, bald and high. Mikey and I sat flushed on the couch, Netflix on its homescreen. She had hickies on her neck, but she still had the gall to spat, “Mooooommmmm, did you fuck my boyfriend? Ewwww, you’re sooo old!” Apparently no harm was done as they went to the guest room and had another session that night.

So that may be why I shake my cute wifey butt and Mikey as I walk away from the porch window as I headed to the kitchen. But where were Cherry and Bobby? Where was my husband?

The answer was in our fenced-in backyard. Cherry and Bobby dressed like children, screamed and shouted as a completely naked middle-aged couple scrambled back and forth on their hands and knees in the grass between my children. They were barking, tongues lolling out as they tried to snap at the dog toy my daughter and son were passing between them. Melissa’s parents, stockbrokers. Smart, successful and fit, reduced to groveling and yapping like dogs due to a new, hungry FETISH. Punkin’ was already tottering over, barefoot through the grass. “Doggie!” she yelled and pounced on Melissa’s father, and began petting him roughly, all over. Dogs don’t mind, and he happily licked my naked mother. Bobby and Cherry were teasing Melissa’s mother passing a squeaky newspaper to each other over her head.

I strolled up to Dr. Mind, my cock straining against its tape. I hated him for this FETISH he gave me. But that fetish required me to love him too, to love how thoughtful a husband he was and how happy I was to be his wifey. I walked to him and he pulled me tight in a masculine embrace, leaned down and kissed his horny wife.