The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Realignment

(mc mf ff md fd be ds gr hm in ma la nc)

Patrick likes turning women into obedient bitches constantly in heat. His mom was just the first, but in all fairness, she did fuck dogs before, so being the first of his new pack was just kinky karma.

Chapter 2: The bitch is back

She fought, but as soon as Patrick had her ass in the air, laying waste to her black panties, she felt his teeth on the back of her neck, Jillian knew she was going to be raped by her teenaged son. Worse, when his malformed cock slammed and knotted itself inside of her, she knew her treacherous cunt was going to spasm and milk him and help him. She was being used as his bitch, and although her mind and mouth screamed at the violation, her body obeyed his cock’s whim.

2 hours earlier:

“Pathetic!! You can’t ever cum unless it is on my boots!!! Isn’t that true?” Mistress Diane said with distain at the trembling form of the Navy Captain who she just made jerk off on her black leather boots. It was so easy to hook clients here. Pensacola was filled with Navy, US Coast Guard, and even Marine Aviators many of whom needed female domination to handle the stresses of their professions. Jillian knew from her years here, that the officer corps were the only ones who could pay her price, and would never tell anyone. Ever. Not their shipmates, wives, girlfriends, husbands or boyfriends. Jillian was Bi, and although she only had two female clients at the time, she could walk on a pair of tits as easily has she could grind a cock under her heals.

They had just started, and it was just two minutes after she pulled her panties aside to make him stare dumbly at her smooth sex, he came without permission. The Navy Captain quivered in fear as to what he knew was going to happen next. The last time he lost himself when she forced him to stare at her slit, she took a crop and whipped his balls until he ejaculated blood. Mistress Diane knew how far she could push this client.

Turning to retrieve the Leather and chain CBT parachute and her black crop, Mistress Diane heard her cell phone vibrate. Only four numbers were allowed to have a vibrate setting. Kicking the worm in his balls (and thereby removing some of his cum from her boot), she turned to get the phone as he writhed in pain. It was the High School. “Fuck!” the mother of five said to herself. It went to voice mail, but they would call back. Positioning herself over the moaning man’s face, she squatted down, and crushed her mound over his mouth and nose to smother his voice with her pussy lips. As soon as the phone rang, she hit the “Answer” button and said “What?” she answered with a little more anger than she want in her voice.

Cheryl kept an eye out the window and looked at the back of Patrick’s head. She really didn’t care about him, but she did want to catch a glimpse of Jillian to use as finger fucking memories. Seeing the black sedan pull up, Cheryl was surprised that Patrick didn’t leap to get into the car. She saw the back of his head slump forward, and it appeared that he was about to stand when he tilted to his left side, and for the first time, Cheryl was worried that Patrick was really sick. Jillian popped from the driver side door, and again Cheryl was surprised to see Jillian. This time it was her attire. The older “Barbie Doll” was wearing a large beige overcoat. It never really got “cold” in this part of Florida and it wasn’t going to rain anytime soon.

With Jill’s assistance, Patrick righted himself and she helped guide him into the passenger seat. Her annoyance with her son’s interruption of her session changed quickly once she saw his demeanor. Much shorter than Patrick, Jillian was not unfamiliar with the ways to use men’s bodies to move them to where she wished them to go. They had a much different center of gravity, and even through it was her own son, her talents as a dominatrix often came in handy.

Strapping him in, Jillian inhaled the scent of French roast coffee from her son’s mouth. Her favorite. She shook it off, and once re-nested in the driver seat, really looked Patrick over. He was sick, but his skin, although clammy, wasn’t feverous. She thought it could be due to his exposure outside, and did some quick math. 10:00am, call Doctor and get an appointment. if he gets worse, go the Ambulance and E/R route.

“Honey, how are you feeling?” Her concern for her youngest was heart-felt. She was often harder on him than with the girls, but even the twins remembered having a father. Patrick didn’t, and Jillian was to blame.

“I think I just need to sleep, mom. Everything is so dizzy.”, Patrick lamented.

It was only a five minute drive to their home, and more than once, she caught Patrick turning and looking at her, the way many of her client’s did. He seemed to be trying to define the shapeliness of her tits. “Starbuck’s would really hit the spot right now”, Jillian’s mind changed her errant thought about her son’s ogling. She started to feel an odd tingling between her legs. Patrick smelled like sex. Patrick wasn’t dating anyone, but he smelled like, like coffee and cock.

The confined area of the car and the A/C setting’s set to recycle only helped the Hu-Pack-A1 saturate the German import, and accelerate Jillian’s stage 1 infection. The more he smelled female, the more of the virus he pumped out, the more potent the female scent became.

As the virus was re-writing Jillian Macaw’s memories and her sexual reactions to them, her maternal instincts were still in the forefront. Getting Patrick out of the car and up the stairs was easier than she had thought. His lucidness came and went. What surprised her was when she got to his room five minutes later with a digital thermometer and some nice Cold (Also known as “Knock you, the fuck, out) medicine was that he had stripped himself naked and was lying on his back and apparently asleep. Bed covers, pillows and clothes were pushed to the floor. She flushed, and although not the first naked male she had seen today, this was her son. When the coffee scent hit her again, she put the plastic bottle of red syrup and thermometer on his computer desk, she turned to leave, but… she shut his door and locked it instead.

“What?”, her mind screamed at herself. She was trying to rationalize her actions. She was his mother, and maybe he needed to be examined. She did have some medical training as a veterinarian and as a certified AKC dog breeder.

Removing her coat, she made sure that her now naked son was still asleep. His eyes moved back and forth in deep REM slumber. If she had known what he was dreaming about, she might have tried to kill him. She didn’t care that all she was wearing were the matching black bra and panties she had put on after releasing her “client” and slipping on shoes and trench coat she kept in the dungeon space she rented, to get Patrick as soon as she could. Even while getting the medicine, the thought of changing into “mom” close never entered her maliciously re-ordered mind. The smell and the shape of his cock was startling to her. She had him circumcised at birth to appease her catholic upbringing as much as to keep the boy “clean”. She had too many daughters to deal with, and didn’t need to deal with boy cleanliness issues. As he was growing, she had seen his cock often, and it was normal and pale white and had a little purple tip as with all boys. Privacy issues froze her memories of his naked body to a halt 11 years earlier. Patrick’s cock was crimson and somehow was now tapered at its tip, and the base of his cock was undulating as if a snake had burrowed and encircled it just under the skin. He was hard, and huge. Worst of all, it was the most sexually desirous thing her mind had ever scene. Hu-Pack-A1 made certain that this fact was now true.

It glistened, and an almost glaze like plasma covered his pulsating, quivering shaft. It smelled like coffee and fresh beignets like in New Orleans. Like when she was just out of High School. Those were the best memories of her young life. She was startled to realize her right hand was fucking herself. It was just a “shock” to feel her freshly waxed slit swallowing her fingers. She didn’t remember getting so wet. Now that she could feel herself pumping her own slit, she could also feel the cold of her expelled drying vaginal excretions all over her inner thighs. She had been getting wet for a while.

She didn’t stop though. She timed her movements of her right hand to her breathing and the smell of her son’s sex. Jillian was by no means an innocent, but the idea of incest never crossed her mind with the exception of making her sister “go down” on her when she was 10. Now, Jillian waddled over to Patrick’s queen sized bed not wanting to remove her 3 fingers for even a moment. As her fingers coated her right hand, they became too “slick” to give her friction, and she quickly switched to her left. She barely noticed as her clit jumped when her diamond raised faceted ring pinched her sex. Nothing was giving her relief. That’s when the offal burning started in her tits and slutslit. Her cunt’s scent radiated throughout the room. She just was going to pull the sheets over it, she told herself. Not touch it. Her hand grasped his cock without thought and she bent to take him into her mouth. She needed to have this in her. When he opened his eyes, that is when all hell broke loose.

It was the combination of her slick wet hand, and the virus riddled sex-plasma coating Patrick’s transforming cock that truly ended his life. Her vaginal epithelials bonded with his changing anatomy. If he had been allowed to just sleep through his dreams, his total transformation might not have happened. The familial genetic pairing and his new biology killed the human male known as Patrick. What woke was more primal than anything walking on 2 legs.

He looked at the blonde hair and its hand around his cock. There was no mom. No Jillian Macaw. It was just a cunt with useless skin and bones around it.

She looked. Seeing his eyes and the understanding hit her. That is what snapped her out of the sex-spell. She saw in those oddly graying eyes what she was to him. She was prey. His prey. Removing her left hand from her wet pantied snatch, she moved as quickly as she could. She was off balance but fear helped get her mind and body into “flight” mode. As Jillian ran from him, Patrick grabbed his mom’s hair and drug her from her efforts to unlock his bedroom door. As she screamed, he flung her like a rag doll into the carpeted floor. Her hands still sticky with her cunt juice, matted somewhat with the white fibrous carpet of his bedroom floor were the first recognizable things that Jillian saw after being dazed.

Cunt. He knew cunt. It was in heat. It was to be mounted. Its noises were high pitched and loud when he was mounting it. A Cunt’s mating call? It kept trying to turn, but each time, his reflexes caught it in mid struggle. It was bitch. It was cunt. Cunt was to be serviced. Its hole was covered with odd black skin. He tore it away. It was young. Cunt was in heat, but it was hairless. It was to be serviced. It was ready for him.

Cunt. It was bitch. He was in rut. It didn’t smell young. Hairless cunt. Much smaller than him, it was cunt in heat. The pain in his cock had now turned to need. It was still struggling, so he bit down on the back of its neck, and its hole and legs spread and its gash opened itself.

His transforming purple cock unsheathed itself, and he plunged into the bitch.

Jillian screamed. She fought and kicked, but, Patrick was so much faster and stronger than she ever thought he could have been. She was practiced in martial arts and her “flight” turned into a useless attempt at “fight”. Her son was raping her, and she was powerless to stop it. Even her screams would go unheard. It was well before noon, and her home was at the edge of the subdivision. Patrick’s hands ripped her black satin panties from her.

It was when he kept pulling at her hair at the same time pushing his “cock thing” at her spread ass and slit, she knew. He wasn’t using his hands to guide himself into her. She knew what his cock was now. As a vet, she had seen much smaller variations on the males. It was the red purple that should have given it away. Being in heat, she was already dripping, and she felt her slick cunt let him slide in. The moment he hit the hilt of her sex mouth, Patrick Macaw’s new cock, tied into a knot and locked his mom’s cunt so she would not be able to detach until he was finished with her. It swelled under her pubic bone and stretched her cunt’s opening. She pulled at it, but unbeknownst to her, her vaginal walls and musculature convulsed to hold and milk this “new” kind of cock. The glaze of sex plasma that she had only tasted briefly, now mixed with her girl fluids. She was being changed and her femaleness aided in her sexual entrapment. Her cunt would force her to fulfil the core of her female existence. She was to be penetrated, impregnated, and reproduce her species. This bio-mechanical response had been suppressed for thousands of years even though the need to reproduce had since culturally manifested itself in the common term “Biological Clock”. Her constant climaxes started.

Some small part of him knew this was wrong, but it was in heat, and he was in rut, and it was now part of his cock and its sobs changed as he thrusted into cunt. It wouldn’t last hours. Just a few minutes before he flooded her canal with Hu-Pack-H2 ladened semen. It wouldn’t ever make it to her uterus. She was already in polyestrous and her cunt walls absorbed his poison. Patrick felt himself untie inside his infected mother, and as he pulled out of her abused hole, he slumped back into his fevered sleep, and fell half against his newly raped mother’s back, and then onto the floor as she shook him loose.

Rage, disgust, and embarrassment filled Jillian. Also, the very odd feeling of burning from her sex increased. Reaching down she scooped up the fluid dripping from her bitch’s cunt, and she was disgusted that he raped and came in her, and even more mortified that it smelled so good. Looking down at her disorientated rapist son, Jillian was still in full onslaught of Hu-Pack-H1. Her cunt seemed to be on fire and without thinking she cleaned her own cum coated fingers. She could feel herself start to slip away, and her first thought was to make sure her and her son were not disturbed. The twins had cheerleader practice tonight, and wouldn’t be home until 7 PM. That gave her 8 hours to decide what to do about Patrick.

With the last of her strength, Jillian recovered her spent trench coat, and fumbling with her keys, opened the trunk of the BMW. Hauling the dungeon bag upstairs, she felt the fever of her cunt radiate throughout her body. She knew, if she were to slip into the fever dream state, Patrick would rape her again. Worse, the virus not only connected memories and linked them it also gave her some understanding of what was happening. Somehow, Patrick was “devolving.” When he bit her, she knew she was going to change too. It was his cock and how her cunt reacted to it that scared her the most.

She needed him restrained and she had everything she needed to do so. Making it to his bedroom, the reek of male and sex hit her so hard she nearly tripped over the bag of dark toys and her own shoes. Amazingly, she only realized just then, that they stayed on throughout the attack. Quickly securing his hands and legs with leather cuffs and chains, Jillian locked the door and found Patrick’s bed. She had to think. Who was she and what was she becoming? Patrick had mounted her like she had “studded” so many bitches. His smell kept drilling into her mind, as his cum virus drilled into her cells.

“Domination, submissive, CBT, tit sucking. Hurting clits. Dog fucking. Yes. Fucking a dog. Patrick fucking her like his god dammed bitch!!” That was it! His cock was wolf like. She knew that. He was fucking a dog. Mounted a bitch. Treating her like a pack-mate. A bitch. “Oh FUCK!!!” The blossoming she-wolf thought. She felt it to be true. She tried hard to think of her daughters, but the feelings had been altered slightly. She loved them. That was the same. The fear was, she didn’t see them as a family. She saw them as pack members.

“Patrick was the first. He infected me. He would challenge me for Alpha of our pack. I’m the fucking head of this family!” Jillian’s mind screamed. She was so tired. The fever was engulfing her. She would have to dominate her own son. The idea made her laugh in a kind of madness. Were they werewolves? Her clit throbbed with her mind reassigning itself, and she started the physical changes that Patrick’s body had started this morning at school when he smelled pussies.

Jillian had a plan, unfortunately for her, he wasn’t just patient zero he was the host.

Jillian slipped into the fever dream state that Patrick began earlier.