The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mad Monday

by Pan

Chapter 51:


“What happened?” Ben said, and my wife’s forehead crinkled as she stared at me.

I sighed, and looked down at the hint booklet in front of me, as if the diagram showing which colored parakeet had been flying over the dam would help me get out of this one.

“Well,” I started, then paused dramatically.

I desperately needed to stall for time and come up with some kind of explanation…while trying to look like I wasn’t desperately stalling for time so I could come up with some kind of explanation. “You see…”

“I think I know what it is,” my daughter said, looking at me earnestly through Mary’s eyes, and my heart skipped a beat.


Belle had always been good at these deduction games—if we ever failed a mission, it was likely due to Ben’s age/inexperience or my wife’s dispassion—not my daughter’s lack of acuity.

Had she figured it out? Had that interaction been the last clue she’d needed to crack the whole case?

Had she worked out that just as she was in her mother’s body…her mother was in her’s?

“What is it?” Ben asked, looking between what he thought was his parents.

“Your sister has…”

Belle trailed off, biting her lip as she thought. The silence did nothing to quell my anxiety; my mind began spinning out, imagining the myriad of ways she could finish that sentence. “Switched bodies with me.” “Been the victim of her parents’ sexual depravity.”

“Spent the last ten days with various parts of her body wrapped around your father’s cock.”

“What??” Ben pressed.

“…she’s going through some stuff,” Belle concluded, and when her brother clearly wasn’t satisfied with that explanation, added a follow-up. “Woman stuff.”

“Ew,” Ben replied simply, before looking down at the booklet in his hands. “Ugh, why does she have to ruin everything? I was having such a good time—we were totally going to get that!”

“Yeah,” I nodded, my eyes not leaving my wife’s face for a moment. “We totally were.”

“Let’s play Pandemic instead,” Belle suggested, and Ben’s face lit up. “Can you go get it?”

“On my way,” my son replied, and zipped out of the room to grab the cooperative game we’d probably played the most as a family.

“What’d she say?” my daughter asked, as soon as we were alone.

Fortunately, I’d had enough time to come up with an explanation. A flimsy one, but one that I hoped would be at least vaguely believable.

“She swore at me again,” I said.

“The C-word?”

“No, nothing that bad. She flubbed a clue and dropped a few f-bombs. I don’t think she even realized she was doing it.”

My wife’s head nodded. “Not appropriate,” she said quietly, and—to my horror—my cock twitched as I remembered the last time I’d heard those words.

Shudderingly leaving my daughter’s mouth as I’d fucked her to orgasm the previous day.

“What’re we going to do?” I said, and my wife’s eyes flicked down to the game, set up on the table.

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I was really enjoying that.”

In an instant, all my annoyance at my wife drained away. Yes, Mary had ruined the game, and yes—she’d left me to come up with an explanation without warning.

But if it had been deliberate—and it wasn’t hard to imagine my wife cunningly putting a scheme like this together—then it had worked. Belle had just witnessed, firsthand, the consequences of her refusal to be a part of Family Day. She’d now experienced the effects of her own actions.

It was brilliant. I couldn’t even be annoyed that I was annoyed—being annoyed was the point, after all.

Ben bounded back into the room, the board game box in his hands, and for the next few hours the three of us attempted to save the world from a megavirus. Sometimes we succeeded, sometimes we failed, but working together felt great, each and every time. Who knew a global health disaster could be so much fun?

When I suggested pizza for dinner, Belle offered to take her mother’s body and get it, and Ben volunteered to go with her.

To my delight, I didn’t even detect a glimpse of reluctance in my daughter’s reaction. For the last few years, she’d considered her brother to be nothing but a pest—“Ape Face”, she’d nicknamed him.

But they’d seemed to genuinely enjoy spending the day together. The sight of my teenage daughter actually wanting to spend time with her brother was something I never thought I’d witness again in my life.

The moment the big car left the driveway, my wife came downstairs. She must have seen both our kids leaving, because she was wearing the most lacivious smile I’d ever seen.

And nothing else.

“Mary…” I groaned. “What are you doing?”

“How long do we have?” she asked breathily, and I rolled my eyes.

“Twenty minutes?” I guessed. “Maybe twenty-five?”

“They’re going to Boris’s?”

“Uh huh.”

“Perfect,” she replied, sinking to her knees. “Just enough time for you to take my ass again.”