Suggestible
by Pan
Pamela grimaced. Her son Dan’s friends were around again, and it looked like they were making a mess. Pizza boxes strewn everywhere, and—if past patterns were anything to go by—no chance that they were planning to clean it up any time soon.
“Oh, hey Mom,” her son said, not even looking up from the video game he was playing.
“Are you boys planning on cleaning this up?” she asked, and the look of mischief that passed between them didn’t escape her.
“Do you think it’ll work?” one of them said—Tom, she thought his name was.
“Only one way to find out.” Sam replied, a particularly lanky fellow whom her son had known since the fifth grade. “Mrs Stegmaier, I think you should clean it up.”
“What?” she said, her forehead creasing as she’d tried to follow their odd exchange. “No! I’m not doing that—you made the mess, you have to clean it up.”
“Ah shit,” Tom said. “I told you it was bupkis.” said the other one—the one whose name she didn’t know.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Dan chimed in, his attention still wholly on the Xbox. “You have to give a reason.”
“Like what?”
“What on earth are you boys talking about?” Pamela asked, but her inquiry was ignored.
“Anything,” Dan said, exasperated. “Literally anything.”
There was a pause, and Pamela used it to try to deduce if her son’s friends had all gone mad.
“Mrs Stegmaier,” Sam eventually said, “I think you should clean up…”
Pamela opened her mouth to reply in indignation, but before she could say anything, Sam continued. “I think you should clean up, because you’re older than us—you’d be better at it than we would.”
The middle-aged woman closed her mouth. He had a fair point.
Age brought experience, and having a clean house was very important to her. She’d do a far better job at ensuring the house was clean than a group of teenaged boys.
“Okay,” she said, not entirely sure why everyone except her son raised their eyebrows in shock at the sight of her opening up the pizza boxes and moving all the leftover crusts into the one box.
It was a good thing she was doing the cleaning, if the simple act of organizing the waste was enough to warrant this kind of a reaction. Imagine what they would have done when it was time to actually move the garbage into the trash can.
She was about to leave for the kitchen when the other boy—the one whose name she didn’t know—spoke up.
“Wait!” he said, and she paused at the doorway. “Throw all the crusts onto the floor. It’s…it’s good for the carpet.”
Without hesitation, she opened the box containing the dozen or so pizza crusts, and tipped them onto her freshly-vacuumed carpet. This was even better than vacuuming.
“Why the hell did you make her do that?” Tom asked, and the other boy grinned.
“I just wanted to see if it’d work. Hey Dan, do you mind if we…”
“Go right ahead,” he said casually.
“Hey Mrs Stegmaier, come back in here.” he said, shrinking slightly under her withering glare. “Because, uh…”
“Because we’re worried you might get lost,” Sam said.
“Of course,” Pamela replied, moving into the middle of the group of boys. It was a big house, after all.
“My final assignment is on bras. Do you mind taking off your top so that I can see it?”
“That’s totally inappropriate!” Dan’s mother snapped, “I would…”
“You can’t ask,” her son said. “You’ve just got to tell her.”
“Take off your top,” Sam said. “For our assignment.”
The three boys stared in wonder as Mrs Stegmaier slowly unbuttoned her crisp black browse, shrugging it off to reveal the dark red bra underneath.
“Wow,” Tom finally said, breaking the silence. “That’s spectacular.”
“Dan, I never knew your mom had such a rack…”
“Yeah,” the teenager replied distractedly. “She does her best to hide it.”
“Let me know when you’ve got all you need for your assignment,” Pamela said, and her son’s friends all tried to speak at once.
“I’m doing an assignment on tits…—”
“I need to take the bra to pass…—”
“If we could get some photos…—”
Pamela blinked twice, and suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable about the fact that she was standing in front of her son’s friends in nothing but a long purple skirt and a red bra.
“It won’t work if you all speak at once,” her son said. “You’ll overwhelm her.”
“I have a psychiatric condition!” Tom blurted out, and everyone in the room—even Dan—turned to him, curious to hear what he’d say next. “As a child, I didn’t get enough love from my mother. My shrink says that I might be able to get over it, if I can…um…if I can make up for the love that I didn’t get as a child. I was never breastfed, Mrs Stegmaier—let me suck on your tits. It’ll really help me.”
“Of course,” Pamela replied, and as she undid her bra and allowed her huge breasts came into view, Tom’s face lit up as if all his Christmases had come at once.
As his mouth latched onto her thick red nipple, Sam spoke up.
“I haven’t tested the camera on my phone yet. Take off your skirt so I can test how well it works on naked women.”
It was a bit of a struggle to completely undress without letting her tit fall from Tom’s urgent suckling, but Pamela somehow managed. She would have felt dreadful if she’d been responsible for a relapse in his therapy.
“My cock is cold,” her son’s other friend said. “I’m going to warm it in your mouth.”
As the three teenaged boys enjoyed Dan’s mother, a smile spread over his face. It seemed they were getting the hang of it.