The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I’m just not sure what else I can do here, Mr. Cartwright,” said the middle-aged woman with sad and tired eyes.

“We’ve exhausted every avenue of delay. Either the funds appear in your account by four o’clock this afternoon, or the system will automatically terminate your current course load.”

Her look of genuine remorse caused Jason to feel bad for her, even as he stared on blankly. It wasn’t her fault that this had happened...again. Even so, it was taking every ounce of his considerable willpower not to direct his anger at the innocent bystander seated in front of him.

“On the bright side,” she offered a hopeful tone in her voice—even if the look on her face didn’t match, “it’s effectively a ‘late drop,’ and it won’t impact your GPA.”

Jason offered a weak smile, “Thanks...uh...” His eyes quickly scanned her desk looking for the inevitable woodgrain nameplate resting in a faux brass holder, “...June. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

With that, he stood from where he was seated, noticing the slight pain in his lower back. ‘They really need to get better chairs’ he thought to himself absently.

As Jason slung his backpack over one shoulder and began toward the office door, June, the administrator, called after him, “Mr. Cartwright...I truly am sorry I can’t help. Good luck, Jason.”

Once again, Jason offered a pittance of a smile, then nodded his head in acknowledgment and stepped into the hallway.

During the bus ride home from campus, Jason was stewing. Surprisingly his anger wasn’t directed at the singular individual solely responsible for this mess. Instead, he was angry with himself.

He was mad because he had allowed himself to believe this time would be different. He had let his guard down, and that bitch had fucked him over...again.

He should have known better.

He should have seen it coming.

The “bitch” in question was Jason’s mother. And the “mess” was his unpaid university tuition.

At twenty-three years-old, Jason wasn’t the oldest college sophomore. But he was probably the oldest sophomore who had graduated high school at seventeen. Who had done so with a 4.0 GPA. And who everyone had assumed, back then, would be a tech startup millionaire by now.

His mother hadn’t always been a bitch, but she changed a decade ago.

It started Jason’s freshman year in high school. His mother transformed from a kind, loving, even doting figure to something more akin to a wicked stepmother out of some fairytale.

Suddenly it was chores, chores, and more chores. And all the while, the woman belittled and berated him.

At first, it was easy to excuse. Jason’s father, her husband, had died not long before. A carefree and adventurous sort, Jason’s dad perished in a rock-climbing accident.

Naturally, the loss had devastated the entire family. But, eventually, Jason and his two sisters—twenty-five-year-old Bethany and eighteen-year-old Evelin—began to heal.

Weirdly, even Jason’s mother, forty-three-year-old Janice, seemed like she too was healing and moving on with life. At least she did in every regard except for her relationship with Jason.

Between his unreasonable and unfair household workload and the never-ending punishments, Jason’s life ground to a halt.

It was only him, though. While Jason didn’t even have time for friends, his sisters enjoyed a full social and extracurricular life.

Thankfully Jason was smart, probably not true genius level, but certainly smart enough that he never had to study to get straight A’s in school.

He was also smart enough that university would also be a breeze. It had been when he was actually able to take classes. But his mother seemed intent on sabotaging his academic career.

This wasn’t the first time she somehow forgot to pay his tuition.

It wasn’t a money thing either. Jason actually had a healthy nest egg left to him by his father. It was more than enough to pay for a good education. However, due to some insane stipulation—which probably made sense at the time—the money was held in trust. It could only be used to pay for school until Jason graduated from college.

Which meant that only Jason’s mother had access to the money. And it wasn’t like she was stealing it or anything. It just sat there, untouched.

In the past, Janice’s argument had been that Jason just had too many responsibilities. She worked full-time, so it fell to Jason to run the household.

Jason did the shopping, the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry (for all four family members), the yard work, etc.

She promised Jason that once his sisters moved out that there would be time for classes.

That almost sounded reasonable until you realize that Janice encouraged Bethany NOT to move out. Further, Evelin would be home for at least four and a half more years. As she still had to finish high school and then SHE would get to go to university.

Despite all of that, Jason had managed to complete a number of courses and was now nearly half done with his degree.

The trick had been doing everything online. Jason had been able to transfer the funds, then get into his mother’s email and delete the evidence. (Resident IT guru was another of Jason’s responsibilities at home.)

He then took the classes at home without his mother even knowing.

Eventually, though, he slipped up and missed a statement emailed to his mother. She saw the withdrawals and was furious.

At first, Jason thought he might have gotten away with it, though. After all, all of his responsibilities were still getting done. And the money in the trust was to be used explicitly for his education. So technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

He didn’t get away with it, however. Instead, Janice turned the “bitch factor” up to eleven and blocked electronic transfers on the account.

Jason was stuck, and his home life was more miserable than ever.

To be fair, though, his home life wasn’t all bad. He actually got along okay with his sisters. They weren’t unsympathetic to his plight, but they had their own lives to live. And, after so many years of this, it just kinda became “normal” to them.

From time to time, they, particularly Evelin, would give him a hand around the house, and they always thanked him for his efforts. But the occasional kind word or helping hand wasn’t enough to make up for all the misery.

Things finally came to a head several months ago. After another grueling day with no end in sight and nothing but vitriol from his mother, Jason hatched a plan.

Following some online research, Jason set up profiles on various websites that allowed computer programmers to hire out their skills on a contract basis.

Jason was a mostly self-taught developer—aside from a couple of classes in high school. Coding seemed to come naturally to him, so he was actually reasonably competent despite his minimal education.

He only bid on jobs that he could do 100% from home. At first, it was slow going as he didn’t have anything in the way of references or formal education.

But, once he had earned his first fifty bucks, he was able to set up a couple of websites for fake software development companies. He then padded his resume with “work experience” from those companies. That way, if anyone tried to verify his work history, he could just respond to the request with a bogus email from the company’s “HR department.”

To his surprise, all that effort seemed to be a waste, as no one ever verified his resume. Mostly they would just make him take online coding tests to demonstrate his skills. Upon which he usually scored relatively high.

With his new “side hustle” chugging along, Jason was finally saving money and feeling hopeful for the future.

Eventually, he had enough savings that he could pay for a couple of semesters of school or start looking for an apartment.

Despite everything, though, he still felt a little guilty for “abandoning” his family. So, he decided to sit down with his mother and see if they could come to an agreement. After all, the worst-case scenario would involve him moving out, something he was already prepared to do. There was nothing to lose.

Jason waited a couple days until his mother seemed to be in a good mood, then he asked her to talk. And, to his utter amazement, the conversation went very well.

There was a fair bit of back and forth, but the final agreement seemed mostly equitable.

Janice agreed to allow Jason the time to attend university. And, she offered to pay the cost of tuition out of his trust.

Jason agreed to use the money he’d saved to buy books and pay any non-tuition fees.

Further, Jason agreed—though reluctantly—that he would begin paying rent.

He was floored when Janice suggested it. But she argued that he was in his 20s, earning a steady income, and would no longer be helping out as much around the house. So, to her, it only seemed fair.

It didn’t seem quite as fair to Jason, though. But all things considered, he decided it was acceptable if it meant he’d be going to school.

Soon thereafter, Jason was registered for classes.

When he presented the bill to Janice, she likewise presented him with a bill for rent.

The amount was much higher than they had agreed, and at first, he assumed that she had made some mistake.

However, he should have known better. Because Janice explained that since he had been earning money for several months, he owed her back rent.

Ultimately he didn’t care. Every day at school was one day closer to freedom. That thought was enough to keep him focused on the prize.

Those events were weeks ago.

At present, Jason was riding the bus home, and he was furious with himself.

He had trusted that bitch, and she fucked him over royally.

Because while he had all but emptied his bank account on rent, books, and school fees( non-refundable school fees), she had never actually paid his tuition.

To add insult to injury, there was no rental agreement and no receipts. If Jason wanted to get his money back, he’d have to take his own mother to court, where it would be her word against his.

Once again, she had somehow managed to outmaneuver him. He was as trapped as he’d ever been.

As that thought hit him, Jason began to sink deep into himself, drowning in despair.

Tears began running down his cheeks, and his chest started convulsing as he openly wept into his hands.

‘Why?’ he thought to himself. ‘Why does my own mother hate me so much? Why is she so bent on ruining me?’

He continued weeping, even as sobs and sub-vocal groans started attracting attention from the other passengers.

Some looked at him with pity, others with disgust. Either way, Jason was oblivious to everything but his own misery.

‘I’ve done everything she ever asked of me,’ he continued thinking to himself. ‘What kind of person treats her own son as a slave?’

The bus continued on down its route, starting and stopping, passengers going about their lives, while Jason was lost within himself.

‘Why? Why? WHY!?’ he screamed in his mind. ‘Why does she do this to me?’

Jason’s stop was approaching, and something in his subconscious reminded him. So, realizing he’d be home in a few minutes, he tried pulling himself together.

He took a few deep breaths, wiped the tears from his face, and picked up his backpack.

At that moment, he was startled half to death when a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind.

Nearly in a panic, Jason spun to face his assailant but stopped abruptly when he saw the hand belonged to an old man sitting in the seat behind him.

The man’s body was bowed and weak-looking, though his grip was strong, all likely resulting from a lifetime of hard work. His eyes were bright though, like twin oases of kindness hidden in the deep craggy desert of his face.

It was the light in those eyes that shown through Jason, parting the clouds of despair that enveloped his heart. So sudden was the shift within himself that it startled Jason, causing him to stare intently at the old man, desperate to hear whatever he might have to say.

“Son,” began the oldtimer, “life can be a real bitch sometimes. Oh yes, she can.” As he said it, the man’s eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed ever so slightly. It added an intensity to his visage, and Jason knew beyond doubt that this man had seen some shit in his day.

“But the way I see it,” he continued, “you’ve got two choices.”

Jason heard the bell indicating they’d arrived at his stop. Still staring into the old man’s eyes, he unconsciously slung his backpack over his shoulder.

“You can wallow in the pain of what she’s done to you...”

Jason took a step back, still unable to look away.

“Or, you can figure out what you’re going to do to her. Either way, life’s gonna be a bitch. Why not get to work making her your bitch,” he stared back at Jason, a sly grin parting his weathered lips.

“What’s it going to be, boy?” he demanded.

“Are you going to make that bitch yours?”

Something about the question resonated with Jason: it awoke something within him, and as he felt it stirring, he began nodding to the old man.

“Haha, that’s right, boy!”

Jason began backing away, moving toward the door of the bus.

“Let me hear you say it,” the old man called after him.

Still nodding and smiling now, Jason replied with conviction, “I’m gonna make that bitch mine!”

“Good man!” exclaimed the old man as Jason bounded off the bus. “Good man.”

Jason decided not to mention anything to his mother. He just didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

So, he went about his routine like usual that evening.

Concerned that he might give it away, he avoided Janice. Still, he usually avoided her, so that wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary.

Even so, he felt a sense of relief when he finally finished all of his household duties and sequestered himself in his room for the evening.

Lying in bed that night, Jason’s mind churned, struggling to come up with ideas for getting back at Janice.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that this wasn’t going to be easy.

To Jason, Janice was pure evil. But, he had to admit, that was really only true from his perspective.

To all outwards appearances, Janice was pretty average. She seemed to be just another single mom with a modest but solid career who had friends, went to church, and even volunteered from time to time.

Even if he could get someone to listen to his plight, it would be hard to convince them that she was anything but “strict.”

After all, who was going to listen to him anyway? He’s a twenty-three-year-old man without a degree, only an occasional part-time job, and lives with his mother. The moment he started complaining, people would just laugh in his face.

It occurred to him that he could simply keep saving his money and leave. It would only take a few months. And once he had his own place, he could put all this behind him.

Sure he’d lose access to his trust money, but he didn’t care about that anyway. (At least not in the short term.) And, if he kept doing classes, he would still finish his degree eventually.

In fact, that was probably the best possible plan. But, the old man’s words niggled at his brain. Jason wanted to “make that bitch his.” Sure, the old man was talking about life, not Jason’s mother, but that didn’t matter.

Jason was going to own that bitch. He just needed to figure out how.

The next week, somehow both flew by and dragged on forever, all at the same time.

Because of Janice’s work schedule, she really had no idea if Jason was going to class or not, so it was easy for Jason to come and go as he pleased during the day.

Over the first few days, he spent hours and hours combing through every nook and cranny of the house, looking for any sort of “incriminating” evidence he could use.

Ultimately nothing was found. And even though Jason didn’t really expect he would find something, he had still held out hope. It was only after examining every possible document and probing every conceivable hiding place that he finally ended his search.

Jason wasn’t done just yet, though. Because with the physical search complete, it was time to move on to the electronic search.

He hacked into every account his mother owned. (Well, “hacked” is a strong word. Mostly he just answered questions like, “What was the color of the house you grew up in?” and “What was the make of the first vehicle you owned.")

Also, and just to cover all the bases, Jason installed a keylogger on Janice’s computer. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t need it, but why not do it? It only took a minute.

Days later, with every email read, every bookmark followed, and the entire browser history combed through, Jason still had nothing.

There was absolutely nothing that he could use to even embarrass his mother, let alone blackmail her.

Once again, Jason felt himself starting to sink into despair.

Recognizing the signs within himself and realizing that such indulgences would only delay his plans, Jason did his best to redirect that negativity into anger and that anger into determination.

Jason had always been one of the smartest people he’d known, but even so, that didn’t mean everything was easy.

For example, when he was learning to code—something he largely enjoyed—it still took time and practice.

Unlike his mother—who had long since mastered duplicity—this was Jason’s first attempt at being nefarious. He told himself that given a little time and patience, he could figure this out too. He just needed to stay focused and keep working toward the goal.

With renewed dedication, Jason decided the best course of action was to step back and allow his brain to percolate on the matter.

In the meantime, he hadn’t taken a contract in a couple weeks, and he needed to get back to earning money. Besides, focusing on something else often helped him to come up with good ideas.

As usual, there was no shortage of jobs available for a skilled programmer. Also, as usual, Jason found himself being underbid by the coding “sweatshops” of Asia.

That was always the challenge, finding a project which was willing to pay Western wages. Usually, that meant bidding on demanding jobs with complex requirements and tight deadlines.

Luckily for Jason, that’s the type of work he preferred anyway. Even so, it was still disheartening when he was underbid on so many potential jobs.

‘Ah, the global economy,’ Jason thought to himself. ‘Everybody loves giant disposable TVs and cheap blue jeans...until it’s their job being shipped overseas.’

Eventually, Jason came across something that sounded rather interesting. It was a one-man project to develop a “Mindfulness and Holistic Healing App.”

The concept was pretty straightforward. The app needed to hook into the phone’s audio output and overlay a series of rhythms and tones designed to induce different brain states.

Jason was sure he could knock this out pretty quick. In fact, in his mind, the most challenging part would be designing the UX (user experience). Jason was more than happy to code it; he just didn’t have a knack for visual design.

Even so, it sounded like a cool project (and a quick couple of grand in his bank account). But, before bidding, he wanted to check out some of the terms used in the posting: binaural beats and isochronic tones.

About ninety minutes later, Jason had thoroughly delved into that rabbit hole.

Supposedly these tones could be used to effectively trick the brain into adopting altered states. From focused to calm to meditative, all achieved through brain wave synchronization.

It sounded like bullshit.

But...bullshit or not, who cared? Jason could undoubtedly write the app. His contribution, the code, would work. He didn’t care if the quack pseudoscience behind the product was real or not.

So, with that in mind, he wrote up a brief proposal and submitted his bid through the contracting website.

For about twenty minutes, Jason looked for more jobs to bid on, but his curiosity soon got the better of him. Returning to Google, Jason instead started searching for some examples of this brain wave bologna that he could use to test on himself.

It didn’t take long. The internet was full of the stuff. Interestingly, most of it seemed to be marketed as a form of “hypnosis.”

There was lots of stuff to help you study or to overcome anxiety. Interestingly, there seemed to be a massive subgenre of erotic hypnosis recordings that used binaural beats.

Being a man, Jason couldn’t help but explore these so-called “erotic” offerings.

Most of them looked like garbage. And, upon clicking on a few, they sounded like garbage too. There was one he found that actually sounded pretty good, but it was just a “sample.”

It did have lots of rave reviews, though...and it was only $10. Jason considered it.

To Jason, $10 was still a fair bit of money, but if he was going to do a good job on this contract—assuming he won the job—he should probably do a little research... Right? Yes, that’s right.

Jason purchased the recording, “Discover Your Perfect Dream Lover Tonight,” and downloaded it.

As Jason slowly returned to wakefulness, he noticed that things felt... different.

Firstly, he felt great, well-rested, and fully refreshed. That was not how he usually felt when his alarm jarred him from his slumber each morning.

Next, speaking of his alarm, it dawned on him that there was no blaring in his ear. In fact, all he heard was the sound of someone mowing their lawn somewhere nearby.

Then, speaking of “dawned,” he noticed how bright and warm his room was. This was not his usual bright and early wake-up time. He had seriously slept in.

For most people, sleeping-in wasn’t so strange an occurrence, but for Jason, who had a cruel taskmaster for a mother, sleeping-in just didn’t happen.

Not that it was rare; it literally never happened. She wouldn’t allow it.

As the sleep slowly cleared from Jason’s mind, he realized he was almost certainly in for a severe scolding and a heap of additional “punishment chores.”

Wanting to avoid the argument, he briefly considered remaining in bed, even if he was only postponing the inevitable, but he desperately needed to pee.

If things weren’t already weird enough, the next shock came when Jason swung his legs off the bed before standing. His movement was constricted, and when he looked down, he realized that his boxer shorts had been pulled down around his thighs.

That might explain why his mother hadn’t woken him up. She probably walked in on him with his shorts down and his dick out. Jason suspected that upon seeing that, she likely just decided to walk away and leave it.

Starting to feel a bit uneasy with all this strangeness, Jason tugged his shorts back into place, walked out of his room, down the hall, and entered the bathroom.

His final and perhaps biggest shock came next when he pulled out his cock to relieve himself.

His dick was covered in a cold, slimy goop, which could only be his own semen.

‘What the hell?!?’ Jason thought to himself.

Every guy has awakened to discover their shorts full of cum. It’s called a wet dream, and it happens.

It usually happens until a guy learns to masturbate regularly. Then, with the need for release satisfied, there’s no longer a need for his mind and body to produce wet dreams.

Jason hadn’t had one in years.

Along with the realization that he must have had a wet dream, a vivid and detailed memory came rushing back to him.

Last night, Jason had downloaded the erotic hypnosis audio. He decided to listen to it in bed, so he put on his headphones and pressed play after climbing under the covers.

He remembered thinking the music was a bit cheesy but still mostly relaxing. Not something he’d seek out, but it wasn’t bad per se.

That’s all he remembered until some time later when, in the middle of the night, he was awoken when a woman came into his room.

He remembered her being beautiful, though now, in the light of the day, he couldn’t for the life of him remember her face. It was just a blur amongst an otherwise completely vivid memory.

He clearly remembered she was wearing some sort of sheer lingerie. He couldn’t make out the color—red, possibly black—but, even in the dark of his room, it served to highlight the incredible curves of her body.

It was the body of a woman. Broad hips and thick thighs contrasted with a moderate and matronly bust. Her waist was narrow and further accentuated her otherwise Rubenesque features.

Even her stomach was womanly—soft and feminine while still being mostly trim.

He remembered laying there staring at her body, and when she noticed his gaze, she turned away slightly. It was merely a show at modesty, however, because as she turned, she bent slightly at the waist, allowing Jason to take in the full glory of her backside.

And it was indeed both full and glorious. Wide and round, the globes of the mystery woman’s ass seemed to stand up on their own, defying gravity in a way that would make any Instagram “model” jealous.

Paralyzed with lust, Jason could only stare at the amazing spectacle before him. As he did, their eyes met...

Her eyes, there was something so familiar about her eyes. But, while Jason could examine every detail of this memory in his mind, the image faltered when he tried to look at her eyes.

It was a strange sensation because he knew that their eyes had locked, but he couldn’t actively remember it for some reason.

She moved toward him and sat next to him on the bed.

Jason’s memory was so freakishly vivid that he could remember feeling and hearing the bed shift as she said down.

He could also, even now, easily recall the perfume she wore. Subtle and sensual, the scent was slightly fruity, slightly sweet, and contained a hint of something...vanilla.

As he stood there in the bathroom recalling this strange nocturnal encounter, he was startled by just how much detail his memory contained.

He just couldn’t believe it was a dream; there was no way. It had to be real. But how?

Jason pushed away the memory so that he could focus on his morning piss. (A task which was momentarily hampered by the burgeoning erection his vivid recollection was causing.)

That completed, he hurried back to his room, desperate for any clue as to whether his memory was fact or fantasy.

There were no signs, not that he was even sure what to look for. Unable to see any indication of her presence, he sniffed the air and the sheets trying to discern even a hint of his feminine phantasm’s perfume.

Nothing.

Standing there, scanning his room in nothing but his underwear, the memory again flooded Jason’s imagination.

Sitting on his bed and looking down at his prone form, the mystery woman ran her hands all over his body. As he recalled this, his chest, arms, stomach, and thighs could feel the lingering sensation of her remembered touch.

She then leaned in close until he could feel her breath on his lips.

Jason desperately wanted to kiss her but, struggle as he did, she was somehow out of reach.

Her hand then trailed its way down his chest and over his stomach until it came to rest on the straining fabric of his shorts.

Desperate for her touch, Jason reached down, pushing and tugging at the waistband of his boxers until his manhood sprung free.

He remembered feverishly willing her to touch him, wanting it, needing it. He also remembered a voice, though it wasn’t her voice, whispering in his ear.

He couldn’t remember what it said. Indeed, Jason was sure that, even in the moment, he couldn’t decern the words or their meaning.

He recalled struggling to focus on that barely audible message, but as he did, the woman froze. Not only did she stop moving, but it was like her presence had faded, like she wasn’t truly there with him anymore.

Started by that revelation, his attention turned away from the unintelligible sounds in his ear, and the woman’s presence returned.

Her hand continued its descent, and a moment later, Jason felt her fingers wrap around his cock.

It felt...adequate.

It wasn’t bad, but it was also kinda familiar.

Even so, Jason enjoyed her hand pumping up and down on his shaft. He was definitely going to get off, but it all seemed a bit...anti-climatic.

The memory fell apart there as Jason’s full awareness returned to his bedroom.

‘Strange,’ he thought to himself.

Most of the memory was so...real, so...vivid. But there were a couple parts that fell short. The woman’s face was a blur, and her touch was lackluster.

Why would those two aspects be so poorly “rendered” while the rest was in ultra-HD?

There were just so many questions, but Jason’s time was limited. He needed to get his morning chores done then focus on earning some income before his mother got home.

He knew that he only had a week, maybe two, before she started to become suspicious. Obviously, she was waiting for him to get kicked out of school. Once he did, she would make up some lame excuse as to why she never paid the tuition, then laden him with more duties and responsibilities in an effort to eliminate any free time he might be able to dedicate toward earning money.

Jason didn’t have a plan just yet, and he knew that he could never earn enough money to move out in only two weeks.

For now, all he could do was to get to work and hope for some miracle.

The day turned out to be far more productive than Jason had ever hoped.

First, despite sleeping-in, he was able to complete his morning chores fast enough to give him four solid hours of “free time” before his mom came home.

Second, he got a bite from the holistic app gig. They asked him a few standard questions via email, then directed him to an online coding test. It was nothing new, and the whole thing took about an hour.

He probably should have spent the rest of the day bidding on more jobs. Still, for some reason, he had an excellent feeling about this app gig (and he had so many questions about last night’s ?dream?) that he decided to do more research.

After a good three hours spelunking the depths of the Internet, Jason started to get a much clearer picture of how this app might work and what he experienced last night.

One of the first things he did was listen to the recording he purchased again, though he made sure not to focus too intently on it.

He discovered a lot more happening in addition to the cheesy music he remembered from the night before.

The binaural beats and isochronic tones were clearly audible. Additionally, but much, much quieter was a speaking voice. Even when holding the speaker right up to his ear, he could only make out the occasional word.

At different times during the recording, he distinctly heard the words, relaxing, deeper, and sexy. Interestingly, as he listened, Jason sometimes felt like he could hear more but would lose it as soon as he focused. These were clearly subliminal messages.

Finally, about halfway through the recording, a woman’s voice became plainly audible and performed a pretty standard hypnotic induction (stairways, counting down, etc.).

She then went on to narrate the experience that the listener was supposed to have. Her words seemed carefully chosen, sometimes deliberately vague, while other times they were quite specific.

Listening washed away any doubt that his dream was caused by anything other than this recording.

That settled, Jason began to look more deeply into the individual components of the recording.

Generally, he learned that the only aspect with any real scientific evidence behind it was hypnosis.

The audio tones had a very weak body of “evidence” with nothing conclusive. Not surprising when the only groups likely to spend the money to research it further were the same groups profiting from it.

Who would research themselves out of business?

A similar story emerged regarding subliminal messages. The only people touting the power of subliminals were the people selling them. And much of the “research” that those individuals cited was thoroughly debunked elsewhere.

Jason decided that those tools likely had a minor effect—at best. And, much like the recording he purchased, they were probably best used as one component in a broader protocol.

Hypnosis, on the other hand, was much more interesting. There was real evidence supporting its effectiveness (though mostly in areas like stress and anxiety). Jason also found—and bookmarked for later perusal—papers (even some official government documents) detailing topics like: Hypnotic Interrogation, Hypnotic Brainwashing, and Creating False Memories through Hypnosis.

There was a lot to read and a lot to unpack, but Jason found the whole thing absolutely fascinating.

As he stood up from his desk to begin his evening chores, Jason felt a tinge of fear. ‘What if that recording fucked with my mind somehow?’

He only entertained that thought for a moment, though. After all, he had listened to it while awake, and the results were obvious. Maybe he’d be more worried if he felt compelled to buy more of their products or something. For now, though, it was a one-time novelty.

At present, he was more concerned about timing his duties in such a way as to avoid his mother. So, with that in mind, he got to work.

The next day was primarily a repeat of the previous. He didn’t hear anything back about the gig, but again, he was feeling confident. And, even if it fell through, Jason was starting to think that his research into hypnosis might provide an answer to his maternal dilemma.

Consequently, he spent all of his free time scouring the web for more information, devouring what he found, and taking copious notes.

When he was ready to wrap it up for the day, Jason realized that he had learned quite a bit.

Interestingly, he had discovered why his erotic audio experience had been so vivid in certain areas but completely unremarkable in others.

As it turned out—and it was apparent when he thought about it—the lackluster parts of the “memory” were those with which he had no real-life experience.

One more area of Jason’s life that his mother had managed to sabotage was his love life.

Jason had been on a few dates in high school and had even kissed a girl—if you could really call it a kiss. But, the ever-expanding list of responsibilities his mother heaped upon him made real dating impossible.

After all, he had no time, and even if he did, he had no money.

So, when the dream had gotten to the juicy bits, his subconscious had no experiences to draw from. That’s why the mystery woman was unwilling to kiss him and why her handjob had been so familiar. The only memories of sensations his subconscious had to work with were those of Jason spanking the monkey.

Far more interesting were the other things Jason had learned.

Jason had gone far down the rabbit hole of mind-control and brainwashing.

He was amazed to learn that not only were such things possible, but they were also widespread.

From seemingly extreme examples like religious cults and political movements to disturbingly mundane examples like team pride and brand loyalty, all had components of mind control.

And, even though such things were all around us, full-on hypnosis was rarely used.

Jason learned that if one willingly subjected themself to deep hypnotic trance states, powerful and permanent brainwashing could happen incredibly quickly.

Of course, there were tons of caveats that went along with those astounding facts.

Not everyone responded in the same way. Some people responded well to direct suggestions. Others required elaborate metaphors and inferences. And still others needed carefully crafted statements of logic to alter their reality.

Everything he had been learning convinced Jason that if he could somehow get his mother to submit to hypnosis, she could be convinced to set him free.

That was the hard part, though, getting her to go along with it.

From what Jason learned, she needn’t be a completely willing subject, though it significantly helped the process.

Not that it mattered because, willing or otherwise, Jason hadn’t the slightest idea of how to hypnotize his mother.

Regardless, it was time to set all that aside and get about his evening chores.

The following day was a Thursday, and Jason was starting to get nervous. He still hadn’t heard back about the programming job, and he was beginning to fear that he wasted the past few days on pointless research.

Further, with almost one more week behind him, the likelihood Janice would realize that he was no longer attending classes was increasing... exponentially.

Motivated by fear, Jason began looking for contracts to bod on. But, he had only spent about forty minutes when he threw in the towel.

His heart wasn’t in it. And, even though he knew he absolutely needed to find a contract, he wanted to work on something else.

He decided to start working on the code for generating hypnotic tones.

Like any good developer, Jason always started by looking to benefit from the hard work of others. A quick Google search lead him to two great starting points. LibBinaural was a library for Java that would do all the heavy lifting for him. He likewise found the AccelBrainBeat library for Python.

Python was the current darling of the programming world, and Jason certainly liked working with it. If he was going to develop an app entirely on his own, that’s where he’d start.

But, he was still hoping that he’d hear back from the Holistic app folks, and chances were they’d want something written in Java. So, he started digging through the LibBinaural repository on GitHub.

The code hadn’t been maintained in years, not too uncommon, but upon further inspection, he found that it actually wasn’t that complicated.

And, after a bit more googling, Jason realized he didn’t need it at all. Which may avoid complicated licensing issues for his potential employers.

In fact, the whole thing was simple enough that in just a couple of hours, Jason had the sound-generating portion of the software working and debugged.

By the time he had to stop for the day, there was a very rudimentary version running on his phone.

Generally, app development was not this quick, but it turned out that this app was doing some pretty basic stuff.

On a whim, Jason quickly recorded a video of the software (in its current primitive state) running on his phone along with a brief message.

In the message, he explained that he felt the app could do quite a bit more than just the tones. He suggested that it could even be used to deliver subliminal messages or hypnotic inductions.

As he spoke, the thought occurred to him that the app could allow the user to record their own messages and then play them back.

It seemed like a good idea, so he added it to his “sales pitch.”

Then, with the video done, he uploaded it to YouTube, set it to private, and sent an email to his prospective employer asking them to give it a watch.

While he was glad he had taken those extra steps, it had cost him an hour. He would have to haul ass and disrupt his usual “mom avoidance strategy” if he wanted to dodge Janice’s wrath.

A couple hours later, Jason was running the vacuum cleaner when movement through the living room window caught his attention. Glancing outside, he saw that it was Janice’s car pulling in.

‘Well, shit,’ Jason thought to himself. ‘I guess there’s no avoiding her this time.’

He tried to hurry along, hoping he might finish the living room before she walked it, but if he didn’t get every single square inch of carpet (she checked), there would be hell to pay.

Facing away from the door, Jason pushed the couch back into place (seriously...every square inch of carpet) as he heard his mother walk in behind him.

Finished, he stood and turned to greet her. (She might be a cold and rude bitch to him, but if Jason was anything less than polite and loving, she would make him pay for it.)

“Welcome home, Mo...,” Jason stopped mid-sentence as his jaw dropped and his knees literally gave out, causing him to nearly fall over.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Janice asked rhetorically in response to his stumble. And, with nothing more than a disgusted look in his direction, she headed to her bedroom presumably to change out of her work attire.

Jason was flabbergasted. His mom, his own mother! He hadn’t even considered it. But it was undeniable.

“It was her,” he whispered to himself as he stared after her, barely able to think.

‘How? Why?’ he mused. ‘It couldn’t really be her, could it? But, those thighs, that waist, and OMG, that ass. That woman has ass for days!’

Before Jason could fully recover and get back to work, he noticed something else...his mother’s perfume. It was just like in his dream, and the scent of it caused his heart to skip a beat.

For the remainder of his evening duties, Jason was in a complete fog. Thinking about this revelation left him so confused it almost hurt. And, every time he let his mind wander, his imagination would return to Janice’s ass, and his dick would start to respond.

Such was the case while washing dishes after dinner—a generally mindless task. Jason’s found his thoughts drifting back to Janice. In his mind’s eye, he was watching her walk down the hall, away from him, toward her room. Just as she had done after arriving home this evening. Though, in his imagination, she wasn’t wearing her pantsuit, but rather the sheer nightly from his dream.

As he scrubbed the detritus away from a dirty pot, he was focused on the clear image of her large and round backside.

He tried to will his brain into creating an image of her bending over, displaying her most intimate and most feminine secrets to him, but frustratingly, it wouldn’t happen.

Still in a daze, Jason was walking around the kitchen putting away the dried dishes when the voice of Evie, his younger sister, brought him back to reality.

“Doin’ alright there, big Bro?” she said, with an odd emphasis on the word ‘big.’

“Huh,” he replied, his consciousness returning to the real world. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just finishing up in here.”

“Well,” she continued, “now that I have your ‘full attention,’” she continued giggling. “I just wanted to ask you about your upcoming camping trip.”

Jason just stared at her as his head tilted in confusion.

“Oh, you’re not going camping?” Evie asked innocently.

“No, of course not.”

“Then what’s with the tent?” she said deadpan as her eyes drifted down to look at his crotch.

“The...tent?” Jason said before following her eyes and realizing that he was sporting a full-on erection in his loose-fitting shorts.

Face turning beet red and hunching over to hide his hardon, Jason managed a quick, “Oh shit...sorry.” He then quickly put the last couple dishes away and ran out of the kitchen while his sister laughed, good-naturedly, behind him.

Jason knew that, from Evie, it was just friendly ribbing. Even Beth, his older sister, was generally kind to him, though she could, on occasion, parrot their mother’s cruel derision.

But, even knowing that his sister was just taking the piss, Jason still felt exceedingly embarrassed and was glad for the opportunity to retreat to the safety of his bedroom.

Even Janice tended to leave him alone when he was in his room. Well, she wouldn’t go out of her way to harass him, but he wasn’t safe if she was genuinely upset.

His work done and exhausted from such a busy day, Jason crawled straight into bed. He was still so confused about this whole “mom” thing.

He honestly didn’t know where it was coming from. When had he started thinking about his mother in this way? He couldn’t remember ever having a conscious sexual thought about her, yet his reaction this evening was undeniable.

Did the hypnosis recording affect him somehow? That seemed unlikely. He’d listened to the whole recording, and there was nothing about “moms” or “incest” or anything like that.

Jason was still pondering this disturbing development when he drifted off to sleep.

It was a sleep that came in fits, full of strange and confusing dreams followed by periods of sleeplessness.

It wasn’t until around 3:30 that Jason finally felt his brain relax, and he again drifted off to sleep, hopeful that this time it would be more restful.

As he slept, he dreamt of his encounter with the old man on the bus. But, in the dream, it wasn’t the old man; rather, it was his old man, his father. And, at the same time, it wasn’t his father.

“Son, your mother can be a real bitch sometimes,” he said to Jason.

“My mom? How do you know... No, it’s ‘life,’ you said ‘life can be a real bitch.’” Jason responded to the old man, who ignored him and kept talking.

“Oh yes, she can,” there was something in his eyes. Jason saw calmness, confidence, and...and...something else.

“But the way I see it,” the old man continued, “you’ve got two choices.” His voice wasn’t the wavering monologue of an oldtimer sharing advice. Instead, it was the granite-like address of authority speaking absolute truth.

“You can wallow in the pain of what she’s done to you...”

Jason felt his consciousness beginning to stir. He realized he was about to wake, and if that happened, he’d miss what the old man was saying.

“Or, you can figure out what you’re going to do to her.” There was a wicked gleam in the old man’s eye.

“Either way, your mom’s gonna be a bitch. Why not get to work making her your bitch,” he stared back at Jason, smiling broadly.

Jason could feel himself being pulled out of the dream. The images were fading, and the old man’s voice seemed to be coming from far away.

“What’s it going to be, boy? Are you going to make that bitch yours?” he shouted after Jason.

“Boy?!”

“Boy!”

“Boy!”

“Boy!”

Jason awoke to the blaring klaxon of his alarm clock.

The dream had been so real, and he could still hear the old man’s questioning call echoing in his head to the cadence of his alarm.

For several heartbeats, Jason just stared up at the ceiling, too confused and tired to get up and silence the blaring nuisance.

‘What am I going to do?’ Jason asked himself.

Making to get out of bed, Jason’s eyes fell on his desk and his computer.

At that moment, the old man’s words came back clearly into Jason’s mind, “get to work making her your bitch.”

Suddenly, as if his brain had spent all night working it out, a plan, a fully formed plan, popped into his head.

‘I’m gonna make that bitch mine,’ he thought.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” Jason said aloud. “I’m going to make her my bitch.“

‘And I know exactly how I’m going to do it.’