The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tuesday

When I woke up bright and early at 6:00 am, I have to say...

I felt great.

It was one of those mornings that seemed hard to express, like waking up in the lap of luxury. My everyday bedroom, (nothing noticeably remarkable other than the large number of books and exercise equipment scattered about) felt as relaxing as a five-star hotel room. Especially in comparison to the previous day, the positive contrast was staggering.

Where I had been tired and rather grumpy yesterday, today, a satisfied look on my face gazed back at me in the mirror.

Why am I feeling so energized?

I arched my shoulders up before shifting them back in a subtle roll. The faint movement made my large bra-clad chest ripple briefly, but where there would be typical morning aches, I could only feel refreshed.

It’s strange how pleasant and energized I feel this early in the morning. Most mornings for me aren’t as sluggish and grueling as yesterday, but this is too much of an anomaly to ignore. A pleasant anomaly, sure, but still one nonetheless. Half of the reason why I scheduled my mornings was to deal with those early-hour cramps.

Each day it went...

Wake up…

Check phone…

Brush teeth…

Work out…

Check phone again…

Do any last-minute studying....

And so on...

But if all my mornings were this pleasant, that list may need an adjustment or two. Hell, half the reason for my morning exercise is to shake off any lingering tired itches. Otherwise, I’d just do it after class.

I left the bathroom, not noticing the skip in my step, until I returned to my bedroom. My lips were even humming a tune which put me right in the mood to play some music.

Right on the nightstand near my bed rested the case harboring my earbuds. I plucked them out and had them plugged into my ears right before dropping down to mow through a set of pushups. Today is totally different than most days; with all the equipment and fresh morning air, I’d typically do anything else than the standard sit ups or pushups.

But fuck it, why not mix things up?

Each moment I lowered with my tensing arms, I could feel the rug brushing against the front of my breasts, still clad in nothing more than my underwear. That’s one of the reasons I don’t do push ups so much; big tits can get in the way. The music made it hard to care, though.

After enough reps to make my arms feel sore, I bounced up to my feet, exhaling a satisfied breath.

God damn, this feels great.

Feeling this content so early on cannot be a one-off thing. Was there anything particular I did last night to...

Right as I went to place my earbuds back into the case, my gaze froze over the nightstand. Directly beside the case sat that unique music box Marcus had gotten.

“Holy shit.”

Thump

Clad in a sports bra and yoga tights, the door to my little bro’s room met the back of my foot, making it crash inwards.

It could be argued that I was feeling a little bit too energetic at the moment. But that is entirely his fault; he’s the one who gave me this gift from the heavens. A music box that can actually put adults to sleep. And a deep, satisfying one at that. Something that I assumed could only work on idiot children definitely proved it’s worth. There’s no other explanation to latch onto..

Every other night I slept as any typical college student would. Then today, I tried out this music box, and I feel like I’m dancing in the clouds.

Funnily enough, I tried his little toy out of sheer idle curiosity. To see, or more so hear, what exactly was the garbage he had paid for. Ironically, I can’t even remember what it sounded like, but I guess that doesn’t matter. If it makes me feel this great in the morning, nothing much does.

“Mark!” I made my presence known if the sound of his door hitting the adjacent wall wasn’t enough to do it.

The poor boy looked as tired as ever. He should’ve used this for himself, in all honesty. Though, the greedy side of me wasn’t complaining.

He rubbed his groggy eyes. “Huh?”

“You are objectively the best brother in the world. I don’t care what any of my friends say behind your back. And they say a lot.” The door closed shut behind me with an absent kick. “This is amazing! Seriously, where did you get this?”

Marcus watched me drop the music box on his desk, but I guess he was too out of it to comprehend much.

“W-What?”

I rolled my eyes, “Okay, whatever. C’mon,”

It took two strands for me to close the distance between the door and his bed. I grappled the comforter and yanked it off just so that I could easily (and physically) lift him right up from the spot.

“You deserve a treat,” I said with my younger sibling in my arms. This is why working out is so important, for situations where I need to log my brother around like a sack of potatoes. Even with sore muscles, he was as light as ever.

“A...” His voice slurred; the lad was still far too tired for this abrupt intrusion. “A-R—What?”

I whispered in a softer tone, my lips inching closer to his accumulating ears so they wouldn’t go deaf. “A. Re. Ward.”

He must finally be collecting his bearings as I could feel him tense up for some reason at that; his legs shifted even in my arms.

“Alright, here we go,” I dropped him unpromptedly at his chair and took a seat myself at the desk. My hand gestured toward the papers scattered in front of him. “I’ve got an hour and a half before class. Let’s get this homework done.”

When his eyes followed the gesture of my hand, I quickly made a move to shift to my side so that my right ass cheek wasn’t squishing against the desk. There was an itch in a pretty embarrassing spot that I had to scratch. With his eyes away, my hand made three sift motions between the tight warmth of my yoga pants and my upper ass cheek.

Three distinct scratches on my nails were enough to make me close my eyes and sigh pleasantly. Fortunately, my brother was far too tired to notice. When my eyelids opened again, I saw his gaze dart back to the desk.

Was this boy trying to fall asleep?

“Hey, hey.” My light-hearted tone dropped a few decibels. He reacts more maturely when faced with assertive manners of voice. I noticed how he’d be inclined to argue with Mom until she changed the pitch of her voice, and suddenly his childish demeanor took a backseat.

But just to make sure he wasn’t falling asleep on me, I snapped my fingers in his face. “What are you doing? Wake up. I’m helping you with your homework right now. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“W—” He blinked at me, then glanced back down to the desk. “Wh-But, why? You said—”

“Yeah, that was yesterday. This is today,” I saw him look back up at me. He had this unique ability to look extremely adorable in certain settings. Other times he is the most annoying piece of shit to exist. That’s probably just the younger-sibling effect. It really is a roll of the dice.

I couldn’t help but ruffle my little brother’s hair. He is the most innocent brat I know. The fact that I want to help him here shouldn’t be a surprise. He needs to realize that the choice I made to avoid carrying him through his classes is directly a result of my desire to help him.

People can’t grow if they don’t first stumble, that type of shitty wisdom.

And if I do feel like helping him occasionally, he shouldn’t think this is a rare moment of goodwill.

“Tick-Tock,” I looked up at the clock on the wall. “We don’t have all day. Do you want help, or not?”

Marcus glanced down at the desk. “Well...”

“Oh my god, you’re pushing your luck here.” My mood was raised, and I didn’t want his stammering to drop that down. Who cares if I literally pulled him out of bed a few moments ago? When life gives an opportunity like this, only an idiot won’t take it.

I leaned forward, the sports bra carrying my breasts drooped down and squished against his shoulder, but I was too impatient to pay it any mind, especially since the contact only lasted for a brief few seconds as I flipped over the sheets for him.

“I want you to know, half the shit you’re struggling with is piss easy for me. So let’s...” After turning the page, my lips froze apart long enough for an awkward silence to breeze by. “What?”

Marcus rubbed the shoulder that had just been up against me. “Yeah, I—”

“You actually did it? Like- without me having to harass you?!” Without really thinking, I started blurting right next to him.

I bounded off the desk, taking his sheets with me. I could hear him say something, but I was too preoccupied looking over his work. “This is...” I trailed my voice off as I quickly skimmed over the large page full of equations he had to write out. “...perfect... bro, there isn’t a single...” pausing again, I looked at another sheet before continuing, “....t...there’s not a single mistake here! Holy shit.”

“Yeah-Yeah! Heh... yeah, I know. It was...” He pushed himself away from the desk, “It was done by someone pretty smart, right?”

“I bet.... be honest,” I lowered the page. “Did you cheat?”

Marcus tensed.

My eyes grew narrow over the quick span of time it took for me to walk up to him, my chest jiggling as I strode heavily. I dropped the papers back on the desk and leaned down with one hand on it. My other hand wrapped around the back of his chair, and I remained there, leaning forward.

He stayed tense; his gaze wavered as if he was struggling to keep eye contact with me.

I wonder why that is. What else could he possibly want to look at in this dull excuse for a room? That is... unless he was trying to hide something from me...

“Hm...” I asked, with clear suspicion laced between my teeth. Only a minute gap remained between our two faces. “Did you?”

Since the day he learned how to talk, I was always the “big sister” he’d run to when almost anything occurred. At a certain point, that did start to become annoying, but on the plus side, being so close did help me find a gauge on whether or not he was lying or not. Just by the way he spoke, I could guess with a high likelihood that he was being truthful in his words.. For the life of me, I cannot pinpoint a specific moment where he ever actually got away with lying to me recently; it goes to show that he probably knows I’d catch wind of his altered tone of voice.

Marcus took enough time to find his words that I was beginning to suspect that he had actually cheated, more so than my initial hunch. He never was the cheating type, from my experience, but I suppose after Mom confiscated his computer, he got desperate.

Still, these equations... they were fairly advanced algebra, the questions posed on the sheet didn’t look like they’d be easy to enter onto a webpage. Just by the way they were written, my gut tells me they seem authentic. At face value, it just looks smart. And if I were to grasp at straws, the handwriting does actually feel familiar.

My little brother managed a gulp, “I-I didn’t do anything.”

“Really?” My brow raised, and I remained leaning in front of him. “So you didn’t just look up the answers online and call it a day?”

“Nope.” He replied, this time speaking with more certainty.

I hummed, keeping eye contact with him for a couple of seconds; that must’ve been agonizing for him. But it’s the best method I have for decoding his true intentions. “Hmm....” I parted my lips just enough to click my tongue.

“What?”

Three more seconds of silence passed and I sighed, unnaturally breathing my minty breath right in his face, “Right, okay. You’re not lying to me.”

Marcus blinked, “Huh? How do you know?”

I raised an eyebrow.

He quickly backtracked, “I mean, I’m not lying.. but—”

“I can read you like a book, the way you said “I didn’t do anything,” and “Nope,” reeks of honesty. When you lie to me, it’s obvious as shit.”

“How so?” He sounded interested. Of course, he’d want to know my secret. I sware if you give him an inch he’d take a mile.

“Big sister’s secret,” I said, giving him a wink.

He has a serious problem calling me, “big sis” in public and at times when it’s just more natural to say my name. Mom says it’s proof that he’s not maturing past those days when it was cute to say that. I’d have to agree, but in certain situations, I’m willing to indulge him, and after seeing how well he did his homework on his own time without me needing to say a word is definitely cause for celebration.

I do genuinely feel proud, in a sense. My strategy to stand back and let him take control of his life while gently nudging him in the right direction from afar looks to be paying off. If he keeps this up, it’s an amazing start. Sure, getting his computer back from Mom is definitely a motivating factor here, but results are results. I take what I can get.

Do I want kids?

Shit, maybe a couple of years after graduating. I might consider it. Especially if I could keep this feeling going for more little brats than just my brother.

I ruffled his hair again and gave him a smile. “Okay, well... I came here to help you out with that, but it looks like I was a little bit too late.”

“It’s fine.” He said, then yawned moments after. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Sure, I guess, but you’re going to have to get up in an hour anyway, so...”

“I’m going to sleep.” Marcus got up and walked straight towards his bed, where he dropped face-first into a pillow.

“You—” I started to say to him with a finger raised, only to quickly hold my tongue. “Alright. But you shouldn’t sleep in.”

Marcus didn’t acknowledge me, with his face mashed into the pillow. He may not have even heard me. But that’s his choice at the end of the day; I really need to see him take initiative so I won’t press the issue past giving him my advice. If he doesn’t get up, Mom will drag him out, and that’ll stick him further into the dog house. She’d keep his coveted computer for even longer. That’s something he’ll have to find out for himself.

But he did give me this fantastic music box. I’m not the type of gal to let a good present go unrewarded.

I’ll treat him to some ice cream later today. It’ll be my surprise treat.

“Got an investor meeting today,” Was Mom’s reaction to “Something smells good, what’s cookin’?”

I pulled a seat at the kitchen table. “So you’re going to bribe them with food?”

“Mmm...” She hummed over the hot sizzling stove, “Phrasing it like that makes it sound underhanded. I just feel like... prepping a meal to share with my colleagues.”

“And your investors.”

“It’s not my fault they decided to schedule for today.”

“Right, of course. What a coincidence.” I turned my focus away from her to spy the tinfoil pan that lay neatly on the table; its warmth resonated a temping aura from within. “Wait, aren’t you the one that set the date?”

“So many questions,” Mom chided with a soft smirk on her plush lips. “Why are you so lively, dear? You usually need your morning jog to wake up.”

“I still might go for one, for habit’s sake. But I’m actually feeling really good. Like, I had a very good sleep.” I reached for the fruit bowl to snag a banana. The container of fruits sat right next to the pan. Its pleasing smell proved very tempting.

Mom gave me a lingering glance through the corner of her eye. “That’s wonderful to hear, honey. But don’t get any ideas with that pan. That’s for the investors, I-I mean for my- Just keep your hands off.”

“Hey, I wasn’t going to touch anything! I was just looking, is all.”

“I can tell when my kids are hungry.”

“I dunno, maybe your senses are wrong,” I said, unpeeling the banana after tearing my eyes off Mom’s cooking. Right before popping the tip of the fruit between my lips, I mumbled, “I’m not a heavy morning eater anyway.”

“Oh really?” My mother nearly froze in place. She took a step away from the stove, after placing the spatula she had been holding on the counter. “So I guess I was wrong. Are you not hungry? I don’t need to make any extra eggs for my children then. Well, you’re both adults. You don’t need your mom cooking for you anymore.”

Now it was my turn to pause in place. With the banana lodged down my throat, it took me a second or two to swallow it down. “Wait, that was for me?” I stammered out.

“You and your brother, yes.. That was for work,” She nodded to the covered foil pan, then did the same to the stove in front of her, “This was for my family. But you’re not hungry, though, right? I guess my mother’s instincts are failing me...”

“No-no-no no, no- Mommy, your instincts are always on point! If you think I’m hungry, I’m hungry.”

“Really? Because I could just—”

In a blur, I was on my feet with a plate in hand. “Serve me up!”

“Hmm? What happened to not being a heavy morning eater?” Mom offered a smirk, her hip cocked pointedly to one side. But that look of amusement was quick to subside when a glimpse of remembrance washed over her beautifully matured face. “Have you seen your brother?” The voice in which she asked lost that distinct playful edge.

Yep, he’s definitely in the doghouse.

I told him to get his ass out of bed, I fucking told him. What were my words exactly?

“Alright, but you shouldn’t sleep in.”

That was my way of helping him. It’s literally the definition of older sister advice. He’s eight-teen now. Obviously, the days of me holding his hand and dragging him all over the place are done with. I just can’t wrap my head around his mindset. When he hears me, his older sister, giving him a genuine suggestion... Why does he see fit to just do the opposite?

If I tell him not to hold a knife, maybe that’s because I don’t want him to get hurt. But I guess in that case, he’d end up with a cut, then appear upset like someone that cares about him hadn’t given him a warning.

It’s hard to determine if my little brother is just naive or rebellious. Maybe the truth lies somewhere between.

When Mom found out he had been sleeping in again, she definitely wasn’t too pleased. Her cheery attitude had quelled, and she put me in charge of the stove while she herself went storming up to his bedroom.

It was hard to tell for sure what happened up there, but I could hear muffled snippets of her chastising from all the way down here. The general theme wasn’t positive, was the summary I gathered. Her buoyant disposition didn’t seem to return even after coming back to the kitchen; even as she shared out the food with both Marcus and me, it was clearly evident that he left her upset.

There was a part of me that regretted not forcing Marcus out earlier. It would’ve been easy to do, all things considered. But then, where would the line be drawn? How many times would I have to bail him out of messes that he could easily avoid himself?

If he could just listen to my advice...

Whatever.

Clearly, he has potential. He did his own homework, flawlessly from what I’ve seen, without me needing to budge him. There is hope for him at the end of this tunnel; maybe staying in the doghouse for a while can serve him better in the long run. Once he’s out, he sure as hell won’t want to go back in.

In the meantime, he’s going to have to deal with an awkward drive with Mom to school. Maybe he’d even remember what I said and consider the fact that his sister’s advice might be something he should heed next time.

As for me...

I’ll stick to my morning runs.

I was breathing rather heavily as I bounced down the street; wearing open clothing with much skin out to breathe didn’t prevent the sweat that was almost inevitable. As usual, though, arriving early prevented me from becoming a curvy sweating tease, as I was free to wash up and dry up the perspiration from my legs, cleavage, stomach, and... well, everywhere.

By the time my classmates arrived, I was freshened up with a new clean set of clothing; my eyes were as bright and awake as ever, whilst everyone else looked to be struggling to fight for consciousness. Goes to show the benefits a good night’s sleep and a schedule can do for someone.

After being let free from campus for the day, I decided to do my brother a solid and pick him up from work instead of letting Mom go over there. Marcus has no idea of half the random things I do for him. In this case, though, I suppose it’s just returning the favor for that life-changing gift he gave me last night. And I do mean life-changing if the box can consistently give me sleep like last night, then I am going to be living on clouds from today on.

As previously promised, I did stop to pick up a large serving of his favorite triple chocolate ice cream swirl. But knowing how Mom feels towards him at the moment, I explicitly told him to avoid parading around the house with it. If she found him with that, she’d certainly throw it out and then start nagging at me for spoiling him.

Though, I was prepared for my idiot brother to ignore my advice again. If he did, the go-to excuse for Mom would be that this was a reward for his homework, something he obtained an A+ on. As I expected, all of the answers were correct.

When we returned home, Mom was still at work. Marcus went directly to the couch and turned on the TV. The shows he watched held no interest to me, but I wasn’t against spending time with him, so I took a seat nearby.

“You know you can’t be here when Mom gets back, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He brushed off my advice yet again and flipped through the channels. “But Mom’s not home, so we’re good.”

“Sure, I guess.” With a yawn and a long stretch, I arched my back over the couch’s armrest. The motion caused my breasts to jut out against my loose tank top while I purposely splayed my legs over his lap.

Doing this always made him fluster; he’s fun to tease occasionally. I could feel his thighs tense and shift under the weight of my legs. He might be considering whether he should brush my legs off or not. My hope is for him to do so, because then I’d have a reason to wrestle him to the ground.

Nothing beats playful fighting; it’s always in good fun. I’m just never the one to start them, but I’ll always end ’em. So far, he has never succeeded in turning the tables on me, and he never will.

But probably by virtue of his better judgment, he let my legs remain. I could have him on the floor in seconds, but I guess I’ll have to wait until another opportunity arises.

The action show he was watching was tuned down to background noise for me as I waddled time away through my phone. Apparently, my friends were meeting up for a study session.

In regards to them, the word “study” should be thrown about loosely. But I do want to bounce ideas on our upcoming project; as long as we don’t evolve that into another party, I’d be willing to join in.

Unlike my baby bro, who gets utterly simplified homework every day, my college course tasks me with multi-week-long projects that aren’t nearly as lenient. Even though he thinks I’m perfect, bouncing ideas is almost a must for me to be confident in my work.

“Alright, Mark,” I said, lazily dropping my phone down the open neckline of my tank top. “I’d love to watch more of this with you. But I’ve gotta go.”

“Oh, okay..” He sounded somewhat disappointed. Enough so that he was gazing at me more than his show as I bent forward to get up. “Where are you doing?”

I stretched once more, this time dealing with the cramps in my legs. “None of your business, twerp.” As I said this, I gave his messy hair a quick rustle before walking off. “Remember, don’t let Mom catch you watching this.”

Whether he chose to heed my warning or not would be determined later tonight.

5:00 pm was when Emma left.

Right when things were getting good too.

She had been nothing but a tease all day. In more ways than one. None of which she ever came to realize.

Initially, the sheer befuddlement he had towards seeing her reaction in the morning took him for a spin. Sure, he saw the proof that the music box had worked as advertised but watching Emma display absolutely no memory of what happened in her sleep really placed things in perspective. This wasn’t just anyone he had a level of control over.

This was Emma, his big sister. The girl he had looked up to since the earliest he could remember. In his eyes, she was irrefutably perfect. Never once has he seen her struggle in classes, make friends, or get bullied. None of the issues he faced were ever problems she had to deal with. She’s never been outsmarted, overpowered, or trumped in anything.

Emma may say, “I’m not perfect,” but as far as he’s concerned, his older sister is the definition of a perfect woman.

Being able to pull the wool over her eyes was mind-blowing in and of itself. It shouldn’t be possible; she’s too smart for that, too strong, too... perfect.

Yet, she genuinely believed that he did that work. The assignment that scored him a perfect grade. Not even staring at the page with her own eyes sparked an inch of remembrance.

And if that wasn’t enough of a mind blow, she added to the teasing by putting a strain in his pants.

It’s obvious Emma didn’t realize the effect she had on her brother. Not her long, slenderly crafted legs, impressively round peach-shaped pillows for an ass, or her unignorable rack big enough to jostle teasingly no matter how she moved. Things could’ve been different if she didn’t take such good care of herself. But evidently, the lifestyle she wants to live leads her body to tread the line of slim-thickness that puts her on the level of runway models or celebrities.

Yet she is clueless all the while. At least to the point where she can’t comprehend the fact that her brother would pick up on her sexy figure.

From sitting her fat bubbly ass on his desk this morning to leaning forward twice in the same day to show him a deathly teasing view of her cleavage. She literally left the warm weight of her legs to rest on his crotch. Fortunately, the occasional tensing and pulsing on his dick didn’t register through the layers of clothing.

He had been using the TV as a guise to subtly stroke himself off, with the weight of her legs serving as the pressure needed to stir his growing arousal, but she left just as he was getting started.

Probably for the best, though, had he kept up the motion, even his clueless sister would have noticed.

Besides, there is something much more important he needs to deal with.

Mom has proven herself to be a problem, a real pain in his ass. He cannot even sleep-in with her around.. Watching the television is a no-go as long as she’s in the house as well. All this is just because he’s been scoring sub-optimally in his classes recently. He’s not sure if she has a stick up her ass or what, but she can potentially ruin everything in seconds.

Two words from her, and he’s grounded, then so much as leaving his room to set up the music box for Emma would be impossible to do consistently. That’s not to say she’s also just making his life a pain. Many things he could deal with, but confiscating his computer took his anger to another level.

He has to deal with her, somehow. And really, the music box was the only bit of leverage he could carry here.

Ironically enough, she’s the very reason he has the music box in the first place. There’s no other way around it; he didn’t have enough money to afford the damn thing. But she did. Hell, she has a ton of money to go around, being a CEO at her company and all.

But just because she has money doesn’t mean she has issues creeping track of her funds. The mother of two isn’t very absent-minded; her entire job description is about keeping things in order. He had taken a couple of bucks from her before, and she found out the very next day; his punishment wasn’t light, to say the least.

Marcus managed to be lucky today; her desire to drag him out of bed by the scruff of his neck and the investor meeting she had to attend left her focus placed everywhere but her purse. She hadn’t noticed the hundred missing as of yet, and as long as he could get to her sleeping mind before she did realize, she should get away scott free.

When Emma left, he jumped straight to action. Stealing the music box from her room, with a small note, he wrote, “Withdraw two hundred from the bank. Do not notice missing money.”

The second instruction there was a test. He was told that control over the night could trickle over into the day, but without solid instructions, he isn’t sure how to go about that. That leaves testing to be done.

This did feel like a safe bet, though.

As far as Marcus was concerned, even if Mom noticed the money missing from the bank or not, she’d not be able to pin it on him. No one other than Dad has access to the bank account. And he’s out of town, so she could just assume he made a withdrawal. If she doesn’t realize, that leaves precedence that he can manipulate them during the day as well.

He can’t control their sleeping mind in major ways off the bat. From the jump, it can be assumed that their sleeping mind is an exact duplicate of their awake one, so expecting them to do something majorly off-note right from the start could be asking for issues. But Mom withdraws money all the time; large amounts aren’t anything new for her. She handles large sums of cash quite often.

This shouldn’t be anything new for her. And it could also train her to obey the music box and, thus, her son.

Emma is and will always be his main goal, but with Mom solidly made to be a non-issue, he could plan for Emma without fear.

And he didn’t have to wait too long...

Mom returned home by 5:35 pm; Marcus eyed the clock with giddy hesitance, his plan already set in stone. There were two options lined up on the table. One was to hope that his mother was exhausted enough after a long day’s work that the music box could manage to be the final push that would instantly put her to sleep. Whereas option two would be harder to pull off but not impossible.

But impossible does not mean preferable, so...

Hearing the sounds of her perusing around the house, stopping momentarily in the kitchen, he waited from his room. It took a couple minutes, but he listened to her come up the stairs and eventually entered her room.

The music box stayed firm in his clenching grasp. After letting another minute pass, he made his move.

“Mom?”

Knock-Knock-Knock His knuckles drummed over the door to the master bedroom.

“Yes, son?”

“I need to show you something!”

Marcus heard his mother’s sigh from the opposing side. “Whatever it is will have to wait, Marcus. I’m changing right n—”

The music box turned on in his hands. For extra precaution, he had plugged in his earbuds. He wasn’t feeling tired himself, but there was no point in letting the risk fly by.

But... some risks are worth taking...

After letting the music play for a solid thirty seconds, Marcus closed it shut and took out his earbuds. “Mom?” He called out but didn’t hear a response from inside the room.

No...

That wasn’t true; he did hear something. But it wasn’t replying to his inquiry.

“One... two... three... four...”

Marcus placed a hand on the doorknob and turned it. Finding it unlocked, he’d lie if he were to claim that he wasn’t smirking.

“five... six... seven... eight...” The soft feminine chanting he heard grew more audible as the door opened inwards. “nine... ten... eleven... twelve...”

Inside the room, he saw, clear as day, his mother jumping in place at the foot of the king-sized bed. Each jump created a clap as her hands collided together above her head; she was facing the bedroom door, repeating the show of her jumping jacks workout. What was very apparent, and something that he hadn’t anticipated, was...

Well, she was well endowed, to say the least, and her assets were on show. That shouldn’t be a surprise, she is the woman that birthed Emma, and everyone does inherit their genetics from their parents. It was only that he hadn’t ever seen this woman in such a light before.

Mom hadn’t been lying when she said she was in the middle of changing. The woman’s tight business bottom was still wrapped around her large curvy rear below a slim waist; its waist-hugging material displayed the well-defined thickness of her bottom half as it grew tense with each jump as her legs spread apart. Her pants were strapped around her rear with enough clinging force to outline each round individual cheek as she bounced. What was more of an eye-opener, though, was how she was topless save for an average black string bra. The underwear was small enough that he could possibly make out two dark nipples over the hem of each cup; in addition, the size of her bosom made the bra appear to be sinking into her tit.

Why had she been wearing a bra that was evidently a size too small for her?

Maybe she didn’t expect anyone to catch her in just the bra, so she saw it as no big deal. But he’d assume that would be rather uncomfortable.

“..twenty... twenty-one... twenty-two... twenty-three....” Her continued chants brought him back to the situation at hand.

The bouncing situation...

Each jump and subsequent clap of her hands had her rack jostling in tow. Looking at her without bothering to pretend not to be gawking let him see her nipples on a few occasions, as leaping with a pair of tits that large without a bra designed to hold them allowed her boobs to nearly jiggle free. Not only was the clap of her hands echoing through the room, but the sound of her tit-flesh and cleavage colliding together with each jump added to the arousal that was causing a tent to pitch in his pants.

This was new...

He always had a major crush on his sister and could admit that his mother was an attractive, healthy woman. He may have even used the word, hot. Though in hindsight, she wasn’t just a tad bit hot, she was basically just an older reflection of Emma, meaning all the bells and whistles. But what he had just thought was his stingy old mother looked much more... hot when seeing her like this. He’s beginning to realize that older doesn’t mean less desirable.

“twenty-four...” clap twenty-five...” clap “twenty-six...” clap

She’s also surprisingly fit. He’d assumed that below the piles of clothes, which she’d usually cover herself from head to toe, the mother of two was hiding her aging figure beneath. But his parent looks both arousingly mature and older while also maintaining a youthfully fit physique.

It does make sense in a way. Emma got her desire to work out from somebody, and he has caught Mom doing some workouts every once and a while. Perhaps she’s doing her own exercises almost as consistently as her daughter; he just never realized.

Hell, the reason she’s even doing this in the first place is because he thought it would be a funny punishment to put her through. She made an active choice in being a pain recently. Confiscating his computer and chewing him out in the morning solely because she thinks her authority makes her all that. Exercising isn’t too out of the question for the woman; jumping jacks shouldn’t cause her to wake up or snap out of the sleeping trance. So he changed the note and added a few lines of additional instructions before coming here.

“Unlock your bedroom door if locked. Do fifty jumping jacks. Withdraw two hundred from the bank. Do not notice missing money.”

None of those are obscene tasks; unlocking the door could perhaps be pushing it. But it didn’t seem to snap her out of the trance. And the jumping jacks command was just something to humiliate her and test extra control over his always-dominant mother. If he had written, “Do fifty jumping jacks in your underwear.” that might’ve crossed the line. But wearing only her pants and a bra is her own fault. Just bad timing all around.

Well, unfortunate timing for her specifically; he isn’t complaining.

If anything, this is an awakening of sorts. Marcus initially sought to just take control over his authoritative maternal figure so that she’d remain out of his way. But... he could do that, and some more... much more...

Since she clearly is worth it.

He found himself swallowing unconsciously at the teasing of her rack, clapping with each jump.

A woman that gave birth to Emma should have the genes to make herself a work of art as well.

Mom continued to jump in place; her eyes were open and conscious while simultaneously appearing unaware of her current surroundings. Those big tits jiggled and rippled, rising high on her chest before falling down to clap against each other and bounce again. Marcus approached and walked around his mother like a trophy of sorts, appreciating her curvy figure from a couple of different angles. Changing his point of view, he could see that she was sporting a genuine hourglass figure, and, closing in from behind, he could see her bouncing bubbly arse having its own pleasing set of bounces. He could hear a faint clap from her ass as well.

“Fifty,” Mom said, her monotone voice both sounding exactly like the same nagging voice that had bossed him around from his early years and oddly lifeless. With a final clap from her hands, she let out one last jump, then stood stock still in place.

Naturally, her ass and tits continued to bounce along for a couple of extra seconds, all while she remained staring straight ahead at the door he had just been knocking on moments earlier.

Mom remained standing there for almost thirty seconds; it was just long enough for Marcus to open his mouth and speak, but before his voice could come out, she began moving.

Not in a robotic or unsettlingly stiff manner. She strode with a casual bounce to her step; her ass was certainly looking lively as the tight jeans she wore shifted and conformed to the fat shape of her rump and round hips. From a distance (hell, even up close,) no one would suspect anything was off with her. Though it took one look into her eyes to see a complete lack of life and color. Her irises were still blue, as was Emma’s, but they were a dull glossy, somewhat cloudy shade of blue. She was both aware and awake yet asleep at the same time.

His mommy, in control of everything around here during the day, has taken a back seat to the sleeping mother that was now carrying out her son’s orders.

Speaking of orders...

She isn’t done following through with her commands.

But is she going out like that?

Mom moved wordlessly to her nightstand while Marcus stood there and watched. She grabbed her purse, then, without any hesitation, turned with a natural sway to her child-birthing hips, leaving the room.