The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Power

Part 5

To be honest, the next day Sue pretty much avoided me, sticking to her room and doing homework, not talking much later. Mom wanted to hear it all, a blow-by-blow of the whole evening, so I told her what I could, leaving out what happened when we got home. I simply said that we had talked for a bit, then gone to bed. She talked to Sue as well, but Sue apparently kept her mouth shut as well, since Mom only commented that it sounded like we had had fun.

After school on Monday, before Mom came home, I learned why Sue had been acting standoffish to me the other day. I was lying on my bed, back propped up on my pillows, reading a book, when I heard a knock on my door. “Come!", I yelled.

Sue opened the door. She had taken a shower after cheerleading practice and was now wearing a short terry robe, barefoot, and rubbing another towel through her long, red hair. “Can I come in?", she asked.

“Sure, what’s up?” I put a marker in the book and closed it, tossing it over onto my desk.

Continuing to towel her head dry, she slowly walked over to me and sat on the edge of the bed, one knee drawn up slightly and demurely. “I wanted to talk to you about Saturday night. How do you feel?”

I gave her an odd look. How did I feel? “Fine. What about you? You didn’t say two words to me yesterday. Sorry we did what we did?”

“Oh, no!", gushed out. “It was wonderful! It’s just that yesterday I was feeling kind of sore, you know, down there. And besides, with Mom around all day, I couldn’t really talk to you. Are you sorry we made love?”

I grinned. “Not in the least. So, what’s on your mind?”

At this, Sue looked sheepishly down into her lap. In a very quiet voice, she asked, “Well, I was wondering, if we could, well, you know, make love again.” She said the last part very quietly and rapidly, and continued to look away from me afterwards.

I laughed and said, “No!", at which Sue’s face whirled towards me, anger in her eyes. I ignored it and continued. “Saturday, we made love. Today, I want to fuck!”

She looked at me with some confusion. “What’s the difference? And why be so crude about it? It was beautiful.”

Nodding, I said, “Yes it was. Making love is for love, fucking is for fun. Right now, I want to have some fun with my beautiful, red-headed sister. I want to stick my cock up her pussy and make her come. I want to fuck!”

We looked at each other with shit-eating grins and she scrambled up alongside me. “Are you ready?", she asked.

“Find out”, I said, pointing at my pants. Sue undid my jeans and I lifted my ass off the bed as she pulled my pants and shorts down to mid-thigh. Seeing her there in that little robe, asking me to screw her, had gotten me as hard as I can ever remember. She gently reached down and rubbed the underside of the shaft with one hand.

“What about you?", I asked. “Are you ready?”

Her inexperience led her to ask, “What do you mean?”

“Take off your robe and kneel next to me.", I directed. Sue undid the belt of the terry robe and shrugged out of it, dropping it to the floor. She really looked glorious, a younger version of her mother, with her large breasts, narrow waist, and wide hips. “We can’t fuck until I know your cunt is hot and juicy. Otherwise, you won’t like it.” Her eyes opened wide as I graphically discussed what would happen. “One way of telling for sure is if your nipples are hard. Now pinch your nipples and get them big and perky.” Gently, Sue raised her hands to her breasts. Cupping them and raising them slightly, she allowed her fingertips to roam the tips, which immediately darkened and stiffened.

“Now, to make sure you’re wet, spread your legs and play with your pussy.”


“Come on, you’ve never played with yourself before? Bullshit!” I took her hands in mine and pushed them between her legs. “Show me how you get yourself off.”

“Oh, God, this is so embarrassing!", she moaned. Still, she didn’t take her hands away as I egged her on. Spreading her pussylips with her left forefinger and middle finger, she began to rub her clit with her right middle finger in a circular fashion. I stared at her as she began to sway and spasm, her pussy lips glistening as she began to get off. Once she tried to stop, saying she was wet enough, but I kept her kneeling by me, with orders to make herself come first. I used my left hand to lightly stroke myself.

Sue came pretty good, gasping in shudders, as juice ran down the insides of her thighs. “Now you’re ready!", I announced. “Swing your legs over and get on top.” I helped her position herself, straddling me with her cunt raised above my dick. Holding it upright with one hand, I used the other to push herself down upon it, impaling herself. Unlike our first time, Sue had absolutely no pain or trouble. She was in heaven from the time she climbed on.

“Now, bounce up and down, and play with yourself. Rub your clit and tits while I watch.” Sue gave a shy smile as she complied, bouncing atop me, one hand rubbing her cunt, the other alternating between tits. I kept up a running dialog as I guided her with hands on hips, telling her truthfully just how hot she looked, how good her pussy felt, and how much I was getting off watching her fuck me.

Sue was as orgasmic as Mom. She came twice in this fashion, the second time only moments before I announced my own orgasm by pulling her down and thrusting up, pumping two days worth into her snatch. I could feel our mixed come running down onto my balls. Afterwards, Sue crawled off my limp dick and lay down besides me, kissing my chest.

“We’re not done yet. Now, start licking the come off my cock and my balls. Get me hard again, so I can fuck you again.” Sue looked at me with wide-eyed glee, then scooted down to begin orally cleaning me. At one point, she stopped, to ask if I ever played with myself. “One guy in a hundred masturbates, Sue, and the other ninety-nine lie about it. I am a liar.", I announced proudly. Sue giggled and went back to work. She may not have had any experience sucking cock, but Lord, was she a fast learner! I think her best trick was to simply stuff my entire limp dick, right down to my nuts, into her mouth and provide whole-cock suction. Wow! As I reinflated, Sue raised away, leaving only my cockhead in her sucking lips.

I stopped her at this point, not without some thought, since she was well on her way to giving me a great blow job, but I had promised to fuck her a second time. This time I had her stretch out on the bed, and with pants around my knees, I crawled between her legs. “Now, guide me in, and keep your hands down there afterwards, to play with your clit.” After I had sunk in, I said, “Now, wrap your legs around my ass and hold on tight. You, young lady, are in for the ride of your life!” So saying, I supported myself on my elbows above her as I began a fast pistoning motion in and out of her pussy. It was a pretty good ride she took, too, if I do say so myself. I threw in a few side-to-side and round-and-round motions to liven things up, and after a couple of minutes, she was in multiple orgasm heaven. Our first fuck had slaked my needs slightly, so I was able to fuck Sue with all the attention a gorgeous young teenager needs and deserves. By the time I came, grunting stiff-armed above her, we were both sweaty enough that we needed to shower.

As we untangled, I leaned down and gave her a grinning kiss. “Fan-fucking-tastic! We’ll have to do this more often.", I said.

“You bet!”

For the rest of the week Sue and I fell into a delightfully decadent rut, where once we both got home, we would screw. Tuesday, I didn’t get home till about four-thirty, since I had been to the gym, but once I came home and started walking down the hall to my bedroom, Sue called me into her bedroom. She was laying naked on her bed, legs akimbo, with both hands delving into her pussy. “I’m real hot and juicy, Paul. Why don’t we fuck?", she asked. I introduced her to the art of the quickie. Wednesday I taught her sixty-nine and doggy style, and Thursday I had her practice fellatio and then did her standing in front of her mirrored dresser, taking her from behind while she was perched in high heels. It was funny at the time, trying to make sure that we were both done before Mom got home, but in retrospect I realize I could have used The Power to make Mom forget what she might see, and Sue to forget Mom had seen.

On Friday I got home around three-thirty and was surprised to see Mom getting out of her car as well, at least two hours before she normally got home. We were walking up the walkway and I was starting to ask what was up, when another car pulled up to the drive and honked it’s horn. Sue bolted out the front door and ran between us. “Bye, Mom, bye Paul!", she yelled over her shoulder.

“Sue, where are you going?", called out our mother.

Sue stopped at the car and whirled to face us. “Over to Bonnie Jo’s. We’re going out on a double date tonight. See ya’.” Then she was gone. Mom looked at me and we shrugged at each other.

“So, Mom, what’s up? Playing hooky?", I asked.

“No, somebody wrapped a truck around a light pole and knocked out all power and phones. Mister Jenkins let us all go home early.”

“You couldn’t do anything?", I asked with surprise. Her bosses were not known for being easy touches.

“Honey, you don’t understand the modern office. Without electricity, there’s no computers, no fax machines, not even telephones. We would have been sitting around in the dark, staring at each other.”

We went inside and hung up our coats. I followed Mom upstairs but went into my room, kicked off my shoes, and dropped off my books. I was about to go back downstairs when I heard Mom call out for help. I wandered down the hall to her room and stuck my head in the door. “What’s up?”

Mom was standing in front of her mirrored dresser, in the process of unzipping her dress. It was a pretty cream colored dress, a few inches shorter than knee-length, with a bustle-like peplum skirt. “My zipper’s stuck.”

I came up behind her and pulled her fingers from behind her back. She had snagged the fabric in the zipper and it took me a few minutes to loosen things. I finished by zipping the dress down. I could see the back of her brassiere, and lower, her panties and a garter belt. I pushed the dress down over her shoulders and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her breasts filled the bra nicely, and I smiled.

“Paul, I have a date tonight.", Mom giggled.

“So what. So do I, but not until seven-thirty.” I reached back and undid the clasp on her bra, then pushed it off her shoulders. She allowed it and the dress to slide to the floor. Now she was standing there, facing the mirror in only her panties, stockings, garter belt, and heels. The entire ensemble was in a matching white. I slid my hands down her sides to her panties, which I noticed she had pulled on after attaching her stockings to her garters. Very erotic! I began to slide them southwards as well.

Mom waited until they had slid down off her hips, then wriggled and let them slide down her legs. Lifting one foot out at a time, she turned to face me. “Well, all right, you horny little bastard, but we have to be done by the time we have to leave, and I’ll want to shower and change, first. Let’s get on the bed.”

Mom led me to her queen-sized bed and lay down. “Should I finish getting undressed?", she asked.

I started to unbutton my shirt. Taking it off, I said, “Nah, stay just like you are. I really get off on seeing you in fancy undies.” I slid off my pants and pulled off my socks and climbed on the bed with her. “Hell, wear what you’re wearing on your date. He won’t know what you’ve been doing, but you will.”

She reached out and began to stroke my erection. “You are such a naughty boy!", she proclaimed, then lowered her face to my midsection and began to go down on me. In response, I tapped her on the ass and helped swing her around opposite me. Without pulling away from my dick, Mom straddled my face and we proceeded into a lengthy sixty-nine.

Mom has a different taste than Sue, somewhat heavier and muskier, but no less appealing. Sixty-nine with Mom has a certain stop-and-go aspect to it. When I’m licking her pussy and clit, she tends to draw back from my dick, squatting back and half smothering me while she wails in orgasm. Then, when I take a breather, she swoops forward, drawing away from me, to engulf my cock in her mouth and take me in so far my ball hair is tickling her nose. She really knows how to deep throat. It was on one of these moments that I grabbed her pillows and stuffed them under my head. Now, semi-propped up, I was able to caress and kiss the globes of her ass, which promptly caused her to lean back against my face. In my new semi-upright position I was able to pleasure and be pleasured. Mom was still far enough forward to be able to continue sucking my cockhead and jerk me off.

Yes, I’ve had deep throat, and any number of other variations on the theme, but for me at least, the simplest technique is still the best. Ladies, stick the end of my dick in your mouth, swirl your tongue over the tip, jack my shaft, and suck me like a Hoover vacuum cleaner. It works every time, and I enjoy it every time!

Just like then. In an effort to distract my mother before I blew my load, I began to roam my hands over her ass, including around the little brown ring staring me in the face. As a distraction it failed, since she began to moan and whimper around my cock. The extra vibrations pushed me over the edge and I blew my come into her mouth, especially when she reached between my legs and, very carefully, cupped and rubbed my nuts. I didn’t think she would ever finish swallowing jism.

Mom raised up on her knees and looked back over her shoulder at me, licking her lips. “I think you liked that.", she commented.

“Sweet Jesus, yes. Please, do it again. Get me hard so I can fuck this pretty pussy, please.", I begged. I reached up to the small of her back and gently began pushing her forward. She took the hint and leaned back down, to take my wet and flaccid dick into her mouth again.

I rearranged us so that my arms were behind her legs and grabbed her ass globes, so firm and round. I managed to spread them so that I had a perfect view of her cunt and ass, and brought my head forward. This time, rather than simply sucking and nibbling her clitoris, so prominent at the upper end of her cunt between the bald-shaved lips, I began to lick her slit from one end to the other. I would start by teasing her nubbin, then slip my tongue into her cunt, then drag it out at the lower end, to give her a tingle between her pussy and her asshole. Then I would reverse direction and head back upstream, all the while my fingers were rubbing around her anal sphincter. I had discovered some women seemed to enjoy this, and I knew enough about my mother to know that if she didn’t, she would tell me. She didn’t tell me to stop, and by the muted cries around my cock stuffed in her mouth, I gathered she rather approved.

It took about twenty minutes or so for Mom to resurrect me, then I had her stop so I could fuck the pussy I had been eating. She moved to turn and face me, but I had other ideas. Pushing her ass down the bed I had her straddle me backwards, then sink down onto my dick. Despite the almost twenty years difference in age, her slit was as tight as her daughter’s. I had her lean down far enough that I could feel her nipples, blood engorged and erect, brushing my knees, and let her bounce on my cock. Half-sitting, I had a marvelous view. Mom’s white garter belt straps ran down to her white stockings front and back, and her stocking clad legs grasped at my sides. Her heels pointed back at me, and I would occasionally leave off rubbing her ass to stroke her legs and feet, tucking them in tight against me. I really loved the feel of her nylons against my skin.

Mom had been coming almost nonstop from the moment she had impaled herself on me. I had begun to stroke my fingers around her asshole again when she gasped out, “Yes, Paul, yes! Touch me, touch my asshole!” With that word of encouragement, I began to probe the entrance to her anus with my right forefinger. Mom’s moans of pleasure caused me to take things a bit further. I slid my left middle finger inside her pussy alongside my cock to wet it, then pulled it out and used it to further probe her ass. The extra lubrication aided my quest substantially, allowing my finger to slide in up to the first knuckle.

Mom proceeded to buck against me more violently, and I simply knew she was a woman who enjoyed anal stimulation and, maybe, sex. I wormed my finger in another inch or so, all the while Mom moaned out, “More, more, deeper, deeper!” In short order, my middle finger was in all the way, twisting and turning, my finger moving like a living dildo in her asshole. Mom gasped and pushed back at both intruders in her crotch.

I decided to try a trick I had heard about but never before tried. Slowly I pulled my finger out (which came out surprisingly clean), at which Mom almost collapsed atop me, but I wasn’t done yet. Moving my hands down, I slipped my thumbs into the pussy riding my dick and wet them, then moved them back to her sphincter. Slowly I slipped the left digit into her now loosened ass, then, as I pulled it slightly to the side, had enough room to push the other inside. With both my thumbs lodged inside, I began to move them around and push them in deeper. Mom wailed and took off like a rocket, screaming with pleasure.

Then Mom surprised me. My thumbs weren’t in very far, but her asshole was spread wide and pink. Raising up on her knees, my mother let my dick slip from my cock. Grabbing it with one hand she pushed it back, but did not put it back into her cunt. Instead she pushed it further back and said, “Put this in there. Fuck me in the ass, baby, fuck my ass!”

I had never done this without lubrication, but Mom’s cunt juice was lubricant enough. Once the head was in, she simply sank down on me, taking me inside in one swift stroke, and I found all nine inches up my mother’s rectum. I had died and gone to heaven! Mom began to fuck my cock up and down in her asshole and I filled her bowels with my second come about two minutes later. Mom kept fucking me until I was too soft to continue, then crawled off. A mixture of come and ass juice ran down the insides of her thighs. We were both thoroughly fucked out. On wobbly legs I limped down the hall to take a shower.

After a brief nap, I dressed and went downstairs before going out on my date. I found Mom standing in the kitchen putting away dishes. “Going out now?", she asked. I nodded, and she said, with a laugh, “Well don’t do anything you wouldn’t do at home.”

I chuckled, and said, “Same to you. You wearing the same thing as before?” I couldn’t really tell. She had on white high heels and stockings, but had slipped into a white sleeveless blouse, a sort of pleated V-neck top, and a simple, black, ankle-length wrap skirt, tied at the waist.

Mom grinned and sat down on a nearby bar stool. As she crossed her legs, the skirt fell away almost to the crotch. Beneath I could see the tops of her stockings and the straps leading to the garter belt. Then she quickly twisted from side to side, and I could see her unbound breasts sway and jiggle inside the top. “What do you think?", she asked.

“I think somebody is going to get lucky to night. Who’s Mister Lucky?”

“You know him Paul. It’s Jerry Williams.” I couldn’t place the name and gave her a look of confusion. “Doctor Jerry Williams?", she prompted. “Your orthopedic surgeon, remember him?”

Oh, yeah. He had been quite taken by Mom in the hospital, but that was months ago.

Mom continued on. “I ran into him in the mall and he recognized me. He asked me how you were doing and we got to talking. One thing led to another, and he asked me out.”

“Well, have fun, and don’t forget your curfew.", I said. I kissed her on the cheek and left.

I went over to Jean’s to pick her up and we went top the mall to the movies. Jean Delacroix was my new girlfriend. Ever since Jenny and I had broken up, she had been flirting with me on and off, and this semester we were in English together. In the last week or so I had cut way back on my afternoon affairs (let’s face it, why bother when I could fuck both my sister and my mother at home). Surprisingly, I had made almost no use of The Power with Jean. The most I had done was use it to get her to answer the questions: 1) Are you serious or just fucking with my head? 2) Do you want to screw with me? She answered affirmatively to both questions, that she was serious and that she was planning on fucking, so I made her forget that little conversation and asked her out. Our first date hadn’t been too serious, just Mickey D’s followed by some light necking, but I had gathered that she would not be averse to going a whole lot farther tonight.

We went to the Cineplex at the local mall to see the latest Bond film. A heroic hero, dastardly villains, damsels in distress showing as much skin as PG-13 would allow, great stunts, crashes, and explosions, and all the gratuitous violence that could be packed into two hours and five minutes. What was even wackier was what I saw before the film.

First off, as we went into the mall, I saw Mom and Doctor Williams sitting at the bar in a high class pizza and bar chain. Mom was seated on a barstool giving the good doctor a real eyeful. Her legs were crossed much like she had shown me at home, and damn near everything was on display. Whenever he lifted his eyes from her lap, he could almost see her nipples because her V-neck top kept sliding off her shoulders. They got up to go to the movies, too, so I sent them both a thought, <Ignore me. You don’t see me.>

Then, ahead of Jean and me in the theater line, I saw Sue and her friend Bonnie Jo in the company of a pair of seniors I had seen around school. Sue had changed her outfit but good, and I laughed to think how much she had been rooting around in Mom’s closet lately. Tonight she was wearing black denim jeans, skin-tight, an electric blue satin blouse, and matching blue heels, all of which I had seen Mom wear in the past. She was wearing her own black bra and (I presume) panties. I knew she had the bra on because the blouse was unbuttoned to the waist. Her friend Bonnie Jo was dressed equally depraved. She had on tight blue jeans, heels, and a miniscule, mid-riff baring top. I doubted she had any underwear on—I could tell by the top that she certainly was missing a bra! Bonnie Jo is a small girl with a devilish pixie face, slightly taller than Sue, but much slimmer, and those perky little breasts and erect little nips were standing firm and proud. Like Sue, she was a cheerleader also, and had a reputation of gladly screwing any jock available. Both the guys were basketball players, and towered over the girls. I used The Power to make them not see us also.

After the movie, I took Jean into the pizza place where I had seen my mother earlier and we had a late dinner. Then we went parking, whereupon we got into the back seat and got lucky. Nothing fancy, just a mutual handjob, then she pulled her clothes off and climbed into my lap and screwed. Jean is a very pretty girl, almost exactly my age, and midway in height between my sister and mother, and me. She considerably outweighs the two of them, but that was basically because she was a large boned lady. For instance, her tits are 38s but only B cups, since her chest is so much bigger than theirs. Also, Jean’s on the gymnastics team and is very well muscled, and for a given volume muscle weighs more than fat. She’s got long and straight chestnut colored hair and very fair skin, and the cutest heart shaped face. In the sack she was much quieter than Sue or Mom, content to simply thrash around heatedly when she got off, an interesting contrast. She was very orgasmic.

The next day I quietly quizzed the other members of my household how they had done on their dates. Mom giggled and admitted that she had followed our earlier script to the letter, going to bed with Williams in only her garter belt, stockings and heels, then doing a sixty-nine and an assfuck. “Jesus, Paul, I’ve never been assfucked by two guys in one day before.", she mentioned, which only made me wonder whether she had ever fucked in any way two guys in one day. I got the impression she had.

Sue surprised me, since I had figured that she wouldn’t have done anything with another couple around. However, her little foursome had gone parking as well, with Bonnie Jo and friend in the front seat and Sue and her date in the back. Both couples got into some pretty heavy necking (Sue had a hickey the next day). When Sue couldn’t see her friend’s head after a bit, and heard a slurping sound, she figured a BJ was going on up front, and gave her date a hand job. By this time of course, her open-front bra was indeed open. Later on, she let him get some stinkfinger and she sucked him off while Bonnie Jo and date got each other off while watching Sue blow her date. It seemed as if my sister had a really strong urge for exhibitionism!

* * *

It was about this time that I performed my first intervention. I was beginning to get awfully concerned about my grades in Chemistry, a required science course. I had never been able to catch up to what I had missed during my hospitalization, and my physical therapy had mostly been the same time as my Chemistry class. I had squeaked by first semester with a C—; now I was heading for the basement. My other courses I had managed to make up with no sweat, but I had this real mental block where Chemistry was concerned.

Later, when I went to college and majored in History, I took Geology (Rocks for Jocks!) as my science requirement. You’d be surprised just how much geology and geography have affected ‘the course of human events’. Even math is pretty useful, in things like population statistics and trend analysis, but for the life of me, I have never been able to understand or appreciate Chemistry.

But what to do? I could use The Power to make Mr. Jennings give me an A, but that seemed to be a long, slippery slope which I was afraid to tread. Absolute power corrupts absolutely and all that stuff. But maybe I could trade for a better grade. I wasn’t proud—a C would do quite nicely, thank you. So I asked him to meet me after school one day to discuss my problems. Once the classroom door was closed, I took control and asked him what I could do to help him.

Boy, was I surprised! I had figured it would be something complex, like world peace (pretty difficult), or something easy, like money (a simple stock tip). No, he wanted something somewhere in the middle. Mr. Jennings was a man of simple tastes, not desiring the impossible and perfectly happy with tenure and the paycheck of a teacher. What he wanted wasn’t world peace, but marital peace!

He had a litany of complaints about his wife, many of them in the sexual arena. Most of them boiled down to the fact that he considered her fat, stupid, and lazy. For example, she never wore clothes that turned him on, and she never initiated sex. They had an average, middle-aged sex life, meaning they screwed two or three times a week, but he wanted more, and he wanted her to chase him around every once in a while. Yet, despite all his complaints, it came through pretty clearly that he loved his wife dearly and had absolutely no intention of leaving her. He just didn’t want her to be fat, stupid, and lazy.

Hmmm! What to do? With him still under my control, something like a post-hypnotic command, I followed him to a small ranch home in a nearby subdivision and went inside to meet his wife. After about two seconds, I realized that Mr. Jennings had his wife pegged to the tee, she really was fat, stupid, and lazy. Taking command, I sent her upstairs to the master bedroom to undress and put on thigh top stockings, high heels, and a button-front sundress, all of which he had described as purchasing for her and which she would only wear when he had literally laid them out on the bed for her. After she had left, I decided that my teacher needed some work done on him as well. I gave him several thoughts, to be more sensitive and less judgmental, to be kinder and less sarcastic, and to take better care of his own body. I reminded him that he was developing a bit of a gut himself, and that he should watch what he eats and work out more, as well. Then I went upstairs to confront Mrs. Jennings.

She was naked, slipping on a pair of thigh-top stockings when I entered her room, and it was fairly apparent that she could lose at least forty pounds around her middle. Still, she had probably been a pretty good looking lady when she was young, and a wedding photo on the dresser showed that she had a beautiful round face and surprisingly large knockers in her low-cut gown. Now, she had several chins, and her tits were really big but sagged terribly. As she continued to dress, I had her tell me about what she thought was the reason for her husband’s complaints. To be polite about it, she was of only average IQ, but what she lacked in intelligence she made up for with indolence. She knew she needed to lose a little weight, but exercise and dieting were hard work. As for her lack of sexual appetite, she was embarrassed by her figure. She wanted to fuck as much as her hubby did, but was ashamed to let him see her in any of the nightgowns or lingerie he would buy. High heels hurt her feet. She didn’t like the taste of come, and good girls don’t assfuck. Besides, good girls don’t want to fuck, her mother had taught her that.

Oh, boy, I had my work cut out for me! By now she had pulled on the stockings and the heels, and had slipped on the dress but not buttoned it, since it was too small. I had her button a single button under her breasts, which tended to hide their sagginess while accenting their large size and hid her potbelly, and sit down on the edge of the bed. I ordered her to begin to masturbate, which she eagerly did, cramming her hands into her furry cunt, and began to give her commands, <You WILL diet. You WILL exercise. You WILL lose weight. Your husband’s come tastes GOOD. Anal sex does NOT hurt. Anal sex IS good. It IS okay to initiate sex with your husband. You WANT to dress nicely for him. You LIKE high heels. You WANT to fuck him. You WANT him to see you as a sex toy. When he comes you WILL come.> Over and over I repeated these thoughts until, after ten minutes or so, I figured they had penetrated into her astonishingly small brain. By then, her hands were dripping with cunt juice and her pussy was gaping open, and her nipples were painfully erect inside the wide open bodice of her dress. I had her stand and go down to her husband.

As she clumped down the hall on her high heels (she really didn’t know how to walk in them, and I suspected they were the wrong size anyway) I sent out final commands to put them back to normal except that neither one could see me or hear me. Mr. Jennings looked up from his newspaper as she came down the stairs and gaped at his wife with astonishment. She walked up in front of him. Reaching into the top of her dress, she tweaked her nipples and said, “Honey, I was upstairs, and I got to feeling kinda’ horny. Would you mind if I gave you a blow job?” Wide-eyed, her husband tossed aside the newspaper as she knelt between his legs and began to unzip his pants. By the time they had reached the floor, his average-sized dick was in full glory. For all of his complaints about her oral technique, she certainly seemed to know what she was doing, taking it straight in and immediately beginning to bob her face the full length of his cock. Whether Mr. Jennings had a problem with premature ejaculation or not (Mrs. Jennings said he didn’t, but she was so dumb I wasn’t sure I believed her), he shot off inside of only a few minutes, and for the first time in her life, Mrs. Jennings slurped up his come. True, she had gagged slightly and allowed a few drops to dribble down to her tits, but then she leaned backed, lifted her boobs to her mouth and licked them up. “That was tasty, honey.", she announced coyly.

I had planned on leaving once they got started, but her performance was so outstanding, I decided to watch. Next she stood up and came closer. Lifting her right leg and placing her foot on the cushion next to him, she said, “Darling, you got off. Why don’t you help me come until you get a stiffy again?” Cautiously, almost fearfully, Mr. Jennings reached out to touch his wife’s right leg, then slid his hand slowly up and over her knee to her crotch. Her cunt hair, which was long and thick, was sopping wet, and he shoved three fingers into the gaping hole. Meanwhile she closed her eyes and began to play with both tits. I sent her a command, <Trim your cunt hair.>, and she said, “Billy, would you prefer it if I trimmed my pubic hair a bit? That way, maybe you could see it better, and maybe you’d like to eat me more.” I immediately sent him a command to want to eat trimmed cunt, and he dumbly nodded up at her. His cock stiffened almost immediately.

As soon as she saw that he was erect again, Mrs. Jennings stepped back from the couch and knelt down on the floor. Spreading her knees wide, she reached back and pulled her dress to her waist. Large and meaty globes faced my Chemistry teacher as he eagerly crawled down behind her and stuck his cock into her pussy. Grabbing her hips he began to pound into her well lubricated slit. It was then that she surprised him even further by leaning her head down to the floor and raising her ass even further. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, “Put it in my ass, darling.” Dumbfounded, Mr. Jennings did just that, pulling out and guiding his oily dick into her anal sphincter. He went to shove it in, but I commanded him to take his time, and Mrs. Jennings gave only a small initial wince, then relaxed as he slowly pushed in deeper. In no time at all, he was giving her long and full strokes up her chute, while she sighed in contentment, until finally, with his hips moving like a jackhammer, he cried out and came up her rectum. Afterwards, sweaty and their crotches coated with mingled love juices, they lay together on the floor and cuddled. I left with a big grin on my face.

I had an immense boner the entire drive home, and got home just as Mom was going in the door. I immediately sent a command to Sue to go upstairs and stay up there until Mom called for dinner, then had Mom take off her blouse and bra and give me two successive sucks. She was pretty nervous about doing this while Sue was in the house, but I used The Power to calm her objections. I really needed a couple of blowjobs from a redhead with big tits!

Since then, I have used The Power sparingly to help other people. It simply doesn’t work on all things, and there are simply to many people in the world form me to affect. In fact, I learned the hard way it could make things worse! I once used The Power to convince a group of junkies to quit cold turkey, and about half of them later died from withdrawal. The craving was simply too strong to be counteracted and the ones who didn’t die became psychotic. While I told myself that they would have all died of overdoses and disease anyway, the aftermath was too horrible and scary for me to attempt again.

But I did get my C.

For the rest of the semester I followed up on Mr. Jennings, at least. Jean was housebreaking a puppy at the time and told me one of the tricks was to always give positive feedback whenever the puppy did something right. If it was good enough for a beagle, it was good enough for a teacher. So, every few days I would stay after class, take control of Mr. Jennings, and ask him how things were going. I would ask him if he was working out, eating properly, and losing weight, and if the answers were positive, I would effectively pat him on the head and give him a doggie treat! (Not really, but I would stroke his ego.) I began to notice, for instance, that he began to brown bag it to school, bringing more fruits and vegetables to eat. I also made sure that he gave positive reinforcement to his wife, to let her know that he appreciated what she was doing for him.

Months later, about midway through the summer vacation, I ran across the pair of them shopping in the local mall. The difference between then and when I had started was striking, like one of those before and after pictures. His potbelly was basically gone and what was left seemed to be much more toned up. In his wife’s case it was really obvious. She had lost almost thirty pounds, almost all in her ass and waist, and while her face was still full, she was back down to a single chin. Now, for instance, her bustline was much larger than her waistline, and she generally looked much healthier. They were holding hands like teenagers.

It was time for some fine tuning. Walking up to them I greeted them both, then took control. I used The Power to suggest that we have lunch at a Chinese place in the food court, and as we sat down, had them begin to discuss the progress they had made on the sexual front. Mister Jennings was basically as happy as a pig in shit, although he really wanted her to dress a bit more provocatively in public and wear heels more often. When I asked his wife about this, she commented that she thought he only wanted her to dress like that at home, and as for the shoes, they still hurt her feet. She was, at heart, still as dumb as a box of rocks, but that heart was in the right place. When I asked her if she wanted him to do anything different, she mentioned that she would like her husband to stop wearing briefs and start wearing boxers. That way it would be easier for her to reach inside and grab his cock!

I sent her husband off on some errands, first, to buy her a nice nightgown and himself some boxers, and second, to buy her a couple of playtoys, AKA marital aids, AKA vibrators. Then I slipped a couple of fifties in her pocketbook and took her shopping (I knew that she was watching her budget much better now, but still didn’t have a lot of spare cash, whereas my cash situation was quite fine, thank you very much.) First we went down to the mall’s K-Mart, where she bought a short-sleeved blouse, a shorter skirt with buttons up the front, and a pair of thigh top stockings. I had her put these clothes on in a dressing room, and nothing else except her sneakers. Her tits still sagged, but not as bad as before, and I figured her husband would be pleasantly impressed with their bounce and sway until the thin cotton of the blouse. Then we went down to a shoe store, where I asked her what her shoe size was. When she told me 6B, I had a clerk measure her. Needless to say, she was actually a 7D, so of course high heels hurt her feet! The clerk got a real thrill helping her try on some inexpensive high-heeled sandals, since I had Mrs. Jennings undo a few buttons on her skirt, and he could see her nicely trimmed pubes clearly. I must admit, a decent exercise program had firmed her calves and thighs up remarkably—she had a nice pair of legs.

When her hubby returned he gave a low whistle and his pants tented when he saw her. As a final touch, I gave her a command that she enjoyed wearing skirts and stockings in public, and that when she was in a car with her husband, she should show as much leg and tit as she could get away with. As they left the mall together, his arm around her waist, I could see her surreptitiously undoing a few more buttons, both top and bottom. I could tell the driver was about to get an eyeful.