The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The raven-haired officer held back her sigh when the vehicle in front of her pulled over into a miniature parking lot stationed at the side of the road. “The Blue Honda Civic, running a mile off of twenty-seven, pulled into the Oak Bridge plaza.” She reported to the transmitter resting on her breast, right before following suit after the vehicle where her cruiser coaxed into a stop behind it.

The car door clicked open; her gear shuffled as she leaned out of it and breathed a faint grunt as she stood tall. Her neck cracked away any lingering aches while the passive stride she made carried her towards the vehicle.

Standing beside the closed window, she cleared her throat. Her hand raised up to rack her knuckles against the driver’s side glass.

Tap Tap Tap

Inside, two young men were seated; they appeared to have been rather preoccupied arguing with each other. So much so that they neglected to prepare for the encounter her red and blue flashers had forewarned them of.

Great, teenagers. Her favorite kind of people.

Rolling her eyes, she knocked on the glass again, this time with a more forceful flair.

Knock Knock Knock

Her eyebrow raised when the driver’s head bolted towards her.

His shock-ridden expression didn’t do much to move her in any direction except annoyed. What did these brats expect to happen when they got pulled over by a cop? The windows should be down by now, at the very least.

“Roll down the window.” She said with a calm air..

The young man just stared at her in response before his eyes bolted around, and he made a frantic move to follow through with her order.

Clearly, these two never had to deal with authority before. This is just pathetic.

“U-Uh- Off-Officer! I—” The guy spoke up with a fluster before she could get her own words out.

It’s a shame she left her shades in the cruiser. Otherwise, she’d be free to roll her eyes without getting caught. Actually. Fuck it. It’s not like her body cam is recording her expressions.

She rolled her eyes in front of the teens and cut off the driver’s babble. “Sir, if you have any common sense, you should know why I pulled you over..”

The driver’s head bolted towards his friend before he looked back towards the window. His eyes were still wide with shock. “B-Because we w-we-were going fast?”

“Fast?” She paused to let out an irony-rich grunt. “You were going thirty over in a forty-five.” The driver’s nervous gulp was visible enough that she couldn’t help but smirk. “Furthermore, it’s the mid-afternoon, schools have let up, people are returning from work. These roads are active, and your recklessness is presenting a danger for others.”

“Oh my god.” He blurted in response, “I’m so sorry, I—”

The guy sitting in the passenger seat leaned forward, “Ma’m he- we’re- It was a complete accident. We didn’t realize the spe—”

“The music was loud,” The driver cut him off, “A-A-And I just pulled off the highway and-and—”

“Okay,” The woman cleared her throat; reaching into her side pouch, she retrieved a notepad along with a pen from her breast pocket. “So, give me a name from you guys.”

“We—” The driver gulped before his brain seemed to function a second later, “I- My name’s Jack.”

“I’m L-Leo,” The other guy said before the first could fully finish.

“Jack and Leo,” She hummed her finger dancing words onto the page in front of her, “Alright, I need to see some identification for the two of you.”

They both blinked, “Right! Yeah, yeah.” Jack said more to himself than anyone else while Leo fumbled with his pocket in a hurried silence.

When the two guys handed her their licenses, she skimmed her eyes over both cards and wrote a few more notes down. “Now,” She looked back up to the driver, “Jack.. Is this your vehicle, or...”

“It’s- It’s- It’s my parents,” Jack said, “We’re just heading back from school,”

“Mm’kay,” Her eyes darted over to the guy in the passenger seat. “And are the two of you, friends... relatives...”

“We’re brothers,” Leo spoke up. “And- We’re really sorry about the speed thing, like- We—”

“I saw you two arguing when I came up here,” She said. “What was that about?”

The brothers looked at each other, the one in the passenger seat scratched his head nervously. “I- Uhhhh... I was kinda on him for going so fast. You know? Kind of an instinct thing... Knock on the shoulder, like...”

“Roughhousing,” She spoke for them.

“Yeah! Yeah!”

The other brother seemed to catch onto something, “B-But we didn’t do that while driving!”

The other guy’s face paled. “Y-Yeah!”

“Right.” Her voice trailed off as she raised an eyebrow, “So then, why exactly were you speeding? I heard it was an accident, but accidents can end up seriously injuring people.”

“R-Right, of course, I...totally understand,” Jack stammered through his words. “We were excited to be out of school, the music was loud... and we were just r-really stupid, we’re so sorry, like—”

“Uh..huh..” She wrote down more information before exhaling a sigh. “So you said this vehicle belongs to your parents?”

“Right,” Jack said.

“The registration would be under their names then? Can I take a look at it?”

“Uh...” The brother in the passenger seat leaned forward and clicked open the glovebox. “I should be down here.... I- I really don’t know.”

She rolled her eyes, “Well, you really need to make sure that you are always driving with your license and registration.” The driver opened his mouth, but she continued speaking. “You two were on your way back from school? And you just happened to be unaware of your speed?”

“Yeah,” The driver glanced down, “I- The music was distracting, and we were just on the highway, so...”

“Okay,” She pressed her lips together and hummed. After writing more information, she brushed aside her dark hair and looked back at the two. “I need you to sit here for a moment while I run through what we have here.”

“Alright,” The driver stammered.

Nodding to herself, she turned her back to the car and had some trouble concealing her smirk. Undoubtedly, these kids were annoying as all get out. But, that being said, at least this was something to distract from the house she’s wasting sitting at the same curb. This should be one of the perfect spots to catch speeders, yet this is the only bout of action (using the word lightly) she has gotten all shift.

The question at play here rested on if she could cite them for anything other than a speeding ticket. Or, more importantly, is she annoyed enough to give those boys a spook. They needed to learn one way or another; a citation at their youthful age would certainly do the trick.

Though, nearly every portion of her smug expression happened to vanish the moment she noticed a second cruiser pull into the small parking lot. The vehicle coaxed up beside her own, its steady engine snapped into rest, and a second or two later, the door clicked open.

Her first thought was...

“Really? Backup? For this?”

But, when she saw the distinct red hair, followed by a tall figure stepping out of the cruiser, her thoughts shifted to something much more basic...

“Really? Her?”

“Hey, Brooke,” Zoey flashed her a smirk, one with knowing intonations hidden behind it. The fiery-haired chick stretched her right arm to the side and rubbed the shoulder before swinging her arms to shake out any aches. Oh, and of course, she remembered to keep on her shades.. Damnit, she looked so fucking cool. Brooke could never get along with Zoey; honestly, she couldn’t, and after their third encounter, she practically gave up on trying. They couldn’t make it work. It’s like the redhead did everything in her power to stand as some kind of rival, except she did so without even breaking a sweat. More people liked Zoey, she was the friendliest and most down to Earth cop in the station, yet she also managed to gather the most tickets. Even back in school, everyone loved Zoey, to a near obnoxious degree. She sported an assortment of friends, always managed to score one new academic achievement after another. All the while sticking with the title of “the cool girl.” She barely cracked a sweat, never seemed to try...

All these thoughts, some more vulgar than others, pooled within Brooke’s head as she watched the redhead in question close the distance between them. It was far too hard to “let bygones be bygones” and say their past was water under the bridge.

Clearly, some things stick for the long term. Because even when Brooke graduated high school and became a cop, Zoey just had to follow along while being that chill girl the entire time. A part of her couldn’t shake away the feeling that the redhead only chose to become a police officer just out of spite.. And surprise surprise, it fucking worked.

Now, there’s an open position for the title of Detective at the local precinct. Something that doesn’t appear very often and feels more like a once in a blue moon type of deal. It was also a position Brooke had been looking for, ever since she realized she’d be eligible for the rank, that is.. Then, days later, she hears that Zoey is also looking to claim that very same position.

Like...

How...

She...

They’re both adults. There’s no way to spin that fact, but when it came to her and that damn redhead and her “always-chill” personality. To Brooke, It felt like they were all the way back at high school. Except, everything was much more real now. Back then, she could live with Zoey taking her spot as class president or being labeled as Prom Queen even though she didn’t enter the fucking competition in the first place.

That one still stung...

“Whaaat, really? Haha, no way, guys. Brook can have it.”

“Geeze? Hahaha, alright, alright, fine! I’ll take the damn crown, okay!? Happy?”

Yes, Brooke could very well remember that day as if it had just recently occurred.

Though, as much as those were certainly annoyances. And yes, they were VERY annoying at the time. Nothing back then was game-changing. Just kids being kids. They still had their futures ahead of them, after all.

Except in the present, things didn’t seem to be that much better. Specifically with this open position! Not only did Zoey intend to take away that coveted title of Detective, but she’d also be taking away the massive pay increase that would come with it. So, naturally, Brooke’s spite towards the redhead was more than justified.

At the very least, she knew she had the “cool girl” beat in the boyfriend department. Unlike Zoey, Brooke’s own taste in men is something to take note of; there’s no way in hell she’d date a fucking twink and then get all defensive when people have the nerve to call it out.

Zoey claims she loves that Hunter guy. But in all actuality, she’s probably just deflecting instead of relenting to the fact that, yeah, her boyfriend is lame.

But, there’s something better than a sexy, buff, and successful boyfriend.

That being a sexy, buff, and successful detective of the local police force.

Specifically for the money and power that comes with such a qualification...

And that was something Zoey here was seeking to take away from her. Naturally, there’d be some quite active heat between them both.

“You need help?” Zoey’s calm voice came off as anything but “chill” considering their shared history. Really they could both do their jobs better working separately from each other.

Brooke raised a brow in response, “With what?” she looked over to the pulled-over car in question, “Those two boys? Nah, I’m good.” rolling her eyes, she moved over to lean against the driver’s side of her cruiser, her hip cocked slightly. “What about you? Bored enough to ask if I need help with a standard traffic stop?”

“Ehh,” Zoey reached into her belt and retrieved her phone from its pouch, “Less bored and more so...” she angled it towards the rear end of the Civic and snapped an image of its license plate. “..patrolling the area and deciding to check-in.”

“Yeah, right...” Brooke’s eyes narrowed. “So, I’m good here.”

“Uh-Huh,” The redhead hummed, her fingers dancing across the screen of her phone, allowing the open air to hear the faint sound of rapid texting. “Yeah-Yeah, cool.” She pocketed the phone; her soft lips parted to allow a chewed-up wad of spit into her hand before being replaced with a fresh stick. “You’re just gonna..” her voice came out with a sticky chew to it as she munched on the gum. “..slap ’em with a speeding ticket and head out?” Zoey asked after walking over to a trash bit and disposing of the gum in her hand. After returning to a respectable distance for their impromptu conversation, she wiped her moist palm against the side of her jeans.

Letting out a huff, Brooke shook her head and opened her car door, “Yeah, obviously.” She leaned into the vehicle and took a seat while her right hand booted the laptop from sleep mode. “I’m just going to double-check if any other charges are required here.”

“Required, huh,” Zoey chewed openly and adjusted her shades. She looked over to the boy’s car. “So what, reckless charge?”

“That is going to be something I plan to review. Possibly an influence too...”

Zoey frowned, “Well, did you smell anything? Notice a slur, or...”

“I mean no, but I didn’t do the test yet. And given their speed...”

“Right,” Zoey chewed her gum. “Their speed.” She retrieved her phone and chewed the gum silently for a moment before speaking. “So, you reported, uh...”

Brooke snapped, “They were going thirty over a forty-five, so don’t even start with the whole—”

“I didn’t say anything,” Zoey responded, though her level of voice raised a faint pitch. “Thirty over clocks them at seventy-five..”

“Mmhm,” Brooke nodded, half her attention sitting on the laptop that she was clicking through. “Good to see you know basic math.” She mumbled under her breath.

Zoey either didn’t hear or didn’t care; either way, Brooke was unphased.

“Seventy-five is pretty fast.” Zoey’s gaze wandered off onto the road. The reflecting beams of light bouncing off the moving vehicles danced over her shades as her eyes stayed hidden.

“Agree.”

“It’s almost like, uh...” Zoey’s voice trailed off as she continued to chew her gum. “The highway is just up the road.”

Brooke stopped typing. “What are you implying?” She looked up at the other cop through the front windshield.

“Well,” Zoey shrugged, “I’m not implying anything.” Her head nodded down the road, “Just stating a fact. I mean, Highway twenty-seven turns down onto Bridge Street. Which was where you reported the violation.” As if Brooke were blind, the redhead pointed.

“Okay?” Brooke said drily, “And? They were still running seventy-five. I have it clocked.”

“I don’t think I ever disagreed with you there. But let me know if I’m wrong. Seventy-five off of Highway Twenty-Seven Isn’t too outlandish when Twenty-Seven’s speed limit is seventy.”

“I... no,” Brooke blinked, “You’re wrong. It doesn’t matter what the highway’s limit is. I clocked them on Bridge Street.”

“Not true.” Zoey hummed, “I checked your report, and you clocked them while coming off.”

“Okay, my... and their specific position is debatable. But even... it doesn’t matter, the roads extended for a reason. They’re supposed to slow down while coming off.”

“Well, speaking of debatable, check out that highway.” Zoey placed her hands on the natural curve of her hips while her mouth chewed away. “I mean, you say it’s extended, but it’s really not. The city should have expanded because there’s not enough reasonable room to come to a speed that abides by Bridgestreet’s forty-five limit.”

Brooke gazed off down the road in silence for a few moments before she turned to look back at Zoey. The redhead’s relaxed demeanor was irritating more than anything. “Alright? Yeah, the city has a lot of issues they need to look into.”

“Agreed, so why punish these guys for the city’s shitty exit ramp design?”

“Zoey, they were speeding onto the road.”

The redhead’s hip cocked. “Okay, then if you’re insisting. Give them their first-ever ticket because they didn’t slow down in time on an exit ramp that is faulty by design. But there’s no need to stack any more charges.”

“Don’t give me that look,” Brooke sighed, “I haven’t run their plates yet. We don’t know how many infractions—”

“Oh, I knew you didn’t check.” Zoey said, “You’re always looking at scoring those tickets rather than deciding if a ticket is necessary.” Brooke opened her mouth, but she was cut off. “Yeah, no. They have a clean slate. This would be their first real violation. And it doesn’t even need to be one. Since this road is known for that mistake due to the design of the highway.”

There was a span of silence that oozed between the two women—only interrupted by the hum of passing vehicles on the road and the gum being absently chewed in Zoey’s mouth.

“So, this is my stop.” Brooke finally broke the silence. “I agree that the highway needs a rework, but these boys are young and need to learn to slow down here. So I’ll give them a ticket, and that’s it. Alright?”

“I personally think a ticket is a bit much,” Zoey shrugged, “Given their clean record and all. But you’re right. Your stop. Your call.” She turned her back to Brooke, “But don’t be surprised why people always say I’m “the cool cop” compared to you.”

It took a second or two for Brooke to register what she had just heard. “What did you say?!” She called out.

BBFFFFFFRRK

“Dispatch needed. Eight-teen forty-five, Air Coast Trail.” Both Zoey and Brooke glanced down to the communication device clipped to the redhead’s left breast pocket. “We got a rear-end vehicular accident—garbage disposal truck.”

Zoey smirked. She stopped chewing to bite her bottom lip and give Brooke a knowing look. “Oh, that’s a biggie,” her hand raised and tapped the device. “Copy that. I can swing by,” After letting go of the button, she stretched her hands back behind her head and made a rather grandiose show of stretching; the action caused her modest bosom to strain tightly against her police uniform top. “Welp, our little talk was getting a bit boring, so I’m going to see what this is all about.” She allowed her hips to sway as she made her way back to her swat car. “You have fun, giving tickets to people going thirty over.”

“Shit...” Brooke breathed silently; her eyes trailed Zoey’s departing figure.

A vehicular accident with a goddamn garbage truck? That definitely sounded more interesting than dealing with these two idiotic kids. And why didn’t that dispatch go through her coms? Hers were currently active.

It’s almost like they’d specifically preferred Zoey’s assistance instead of her own.

Bullshit!

“Hey, Zoey!” Brooke pushed herself out of the car and leaned against its roof just as the red headed cop was about to enter her own vehicle.

“Yeah?” Zoey’s response came through the sticky wet sound of chewing gum; her current position caused the sun to bounce off her shades and reflect towards where Brooke had been standing.

“You’re better with kids,” Brooke nodded towards the car she had pulled over, “Why don’t you be the “cool cop” and deal with them. I can swing by and check out that mess.”

“Huh,” The redhead continued to chew in silence; her emotion was hard to determine from behind her glasses. Though, with each sticky chew, a sly smirk slowly grew on her lips. She then blew a rather sluggishly expanding pink bubble that popped back around her lips. “Sure,”

Hell yeah.

“Mom?” My raised hand snapped beside her face. Once. Then twice.

In response, my mother chose not to respond. Well, that’s running under the presumption that she held a choice in the first place. No, instead, she just stayed in place, her arms slumped against her shapely sides. The face she held lacked any emotion. Be it shock, fear, anger, or the annoyed suspicion she had held only moments before. All that had vanished with the wind the moment her ears detected the finishing statement of my trigger.

Her entire body had nearly slumped, except at the same time, she held herself at attention. Like a soldier awaiting their next order; if the said soldier was a busty, toned, tall, sexy fuck of a woman. Really, in this state, she resembled something more in line with a doll. No reaction, no emotion. Hell, no life, other than the faint show of her cleavage rising and falling with each steady breath she took. Well, I suppose her blinking would be another sign of life as well, along with standing in her sturdy stock stance, being warm, etc...

But, the thing is, since her boobies were right in my face, practically in direct eye level from where I stood. Naturally, that is just what I thought of first in regards to my mindless internal monologue.

Furthermore...

My eyes shifted away from her amazingly round rack and focused on the jug of milk; its simple plastic exterior and creamy white contents never looked more interesting than it did in this present moment. See, I get distracted somewhat easily. But when my mind is focused on something new and interesting (especially when that “new” thing is perverse in nature), it’s hard to shake away any ideas that come as a result.

Granted, it’s not like I was making any active attempts in the first place.

Really, I had just acted on autopilot, and my mind is just along for the ride.

Case in point.

I raised my phone to her eye level and showed her the picture of the milk jug.

Then, as if on cue.

Well, nothing flashy happened.

Kind of like before, it was more akin to a blink, and you miss it kind of event. The moment my mother’s mindless eyes scanned over the image displayed on the phone, her eyes glazed over, and the following blink sealed her fate.

“Mmm’lliilk...” Her spaced-out voice came out as a slur through her soft lips.

This was where my curiosity could do nothing but step back and watch to see how this trigger would unfold...

And unfold it did.

At least... Fuck me, I think, it’s hard to tell because... well, nothing seemed to have happened. Genuinely. Even giving her the whole 180° test yielded zero in terms of results. Her ass hadn’t shifted, neither had her arms so much as twitch. Feeling up the round shape of her recently abused bubbly buttocks displayed the same lack of lively reaction as before.

That being, nothing.

Standing back in front of her, I gave my mother’s tits a long leer before altering back to her face. “You have anything to say, Mom?” I asked. A sluggishly knowing grin formed its way onto my face. “You were so hands-on-hipsy before. With all that talking..” One subconscious lick of my lips later, and I stepped forward. My right hand inched down to faintly tease the surface of her crotch with the tips of my fingers. She was trimmed, exceptionally so; the folds of her pussy were slick to the touch and distinctly moist. Realistically it was due to sweat, but a part of me wanted to believe that damp feel came from an area of lust. Constantly being triggered into sexual situations by her son while she is entirely unaware of the transactions has to do be achieving something to her subconscious. “I’m assuming that’s a no...” My fingers altered from teasing the surface of her snatch to giving her a brief yet still precise entry side of her. “You know, usually, women try to keep this part to themselves. But look at you, letting your son poke his way into your babymaker.” It was nearly impossible to restrict the look of satisfaction that came upon me. Taunting her just felt ever so cathartic. “You must like it, right?” My question was left on deaf ears, as she didn’t even so much as glance downwards. Though, my actions to her sensitive joint did something I wasn’t expecting. It made her react.

Albeit, nothing major, only a slight, and I do mean slight, exhale of breath. Her tongue moved out to lick her lips as if in some attempt to discharge a warm spell of arousal, but then her mind quickly caught up to the situation, or the trigger performed a jumpstart, and she returned back to that empty-minded trance. This time her lips stayed apart like she suffered from a case of slack jaw. The kind of action that she’d ridicule her kids for doing out in public.

My gaze returned to the counter, where the milk jug laid in an inanimate rest. Seeing as that is the image she was shown, I shouldn’t expect much in the form of flashy effects or distinct acknowledgment that the trigger did its thing. Because, at the end of the day, If she “remembered who she was,” that being a container of milk. There isn’t much in the form of flashy effects a milk jug can perform.

Actually, that’s not entirely true. Other than sitting there (or standing, in my mother’s case) doing nothing, there is one thing milk containers can do.

“You know you broke character for a moment,” I said to the woman who had been staring straight ahead into the vastness of space with her foggy eyes for the last few minutes. “You must’ve liked that, huh?” Having retracted back out, my hand continued to coax over her crotch. “You’re nothing more than a jug of milk. Right?” I smiled, “Say it with me, Mom... I am...”

She stayed silent, her lips still parted; if it could be considered a form of communication to blink or let one’s tits raise and lower like a flowing wave, then yeah, she certainly did respond. If only sluggishly and at a repeated pace.

“Cool, that was a test,” I let my hand retreat and moved it up to rub off the moisture onto her hair. But, before following through with that initial intention, I changed course to her still open lips. And with the help of my other hand, I had Mom’s lips close shut around the finger that had just been sliding in and out of her pussy. “I hope that was sweat,” I failed to hold back my teasing, “Unless you like the taste of your own juices. You know, I wouldn’t judge.” My voice trailed off as my gaze fell downwards onto the cleavage that was a few feet away from my face. “Speaking of juices...” I found myself swallowing an empty gulp as my lips felt dry. “I’m pretty parched. And since Mommy isn’t currently residing up here...” My hand plopped out from between her mouth, leaving a string of her saliva, which I wiped away on her cheeks. I balled a fist and racked it gently against her forehead, if only to further my teasing while also proving the point made that the mother who could and would punish me for this wasn’t around to do so at the current moment. “I... guess I’ll have to find my own way to quench my thirst.”

With my brain running on autopilot, the sheer amount of booby potential in front of me finally spelled the end of my verbal competence as my words quite literally ran dry. Glancing down to her cleavage-bearing rack, held up in a bust enhancing bra, it quite literally looked like a milk-filled platter prized just for me. You know, whatever that means.

My hands moved in a round motion around each mass, encompassing tit to cup (to the best of onces ability with a rack of this size) the underside of her tits. Their heavy nature only served to build up this arbitrary and entirely mental thirst my mind was fixated with. One brief lift and my eyes were graced with a fleeting (but memorable) jiggle upon retracting my hands. Fuck, I could literally see the milk she’s packing by the jiggles alone.

For as long as I could recall, I’ve been secretly (and rather recently, far less conspicuously) obsessing over her pair of melon-sized funbags. Nearly each bounce, and every faint jostle, I’ve accounted for and saved to my limited memory space. I’m a straight-ass, warm-blooded teen who loves tits and ass. She’s sporting both, to an unbelievably attractive degree. Why wouldn’t I take note?

Yet, this is the first time I thought about these tits on more than just a surface level.

They bounce and jiggle as if they’re jostling something savory inside. And using that trigger to turn this proud, intelligent, dominant force of a woman into a jug(s) of milk fit her description more than I’d initially thought. Hell, if I hadn’t burned my tongue and she never brought up the prospect of milk in the first place (while shoving her cleavage in my face, I might add), I doubt we’d be in this situation. But we’re here, so we might as well go through with things.

Besides, like I said. I’m parched.

So, I assume to “uncap” the lid to my personal milk jag mommy. I just... take grasp of the lower hem of her blouse. Pull it up, go around the sizable face-encompassing bosom. Fail to do so entirely and lift her tits up in the process before they slip-free and fall back to a jiggling position atop her chest.

I then ignore the way they jiggle like a pleasing show of milk-filled jello before my eyes and pull up her arms while I slip it over her head. Then, in this hypothetical tutorial, I’d reach my hands behind her, in the process purposely shove my face into her cleavage enhanced by a sexy purple and black lace bra, while my hands play an aimless guessing game to find the snaps to her bra. All the while causing her rack and aforementioned cleavage to jiggle and wobble with bouncy claps around my face until I’d inevitably succeed in my haphazard attempts and undo the clasps. And gradually plop my face free from her jostling baby-feeders and soak in the two rather large and perfectly shaped “results” of my hard work..

Yeah. That sounded like a good plan.

Except, in my boob ensnared daze, I ended up doing just that without even realizing it.

Huh.

Oh well.

Her nipples look enticing enough, so who am I to question the details of things?

A complete silence oozed between us, Mom didn’t appear to be inclined to break character, and my brain sure as hell wasn’t going to muster together any words. Not that there was much to say, anyway.

The only sounds that could be detected were the faint flesh-on flesh slapping sounds of her boobs as my hands moved on their own. There was something about boobs that just made them fun to play with. What can I say? I know what I’m here for, but these juice melons are taking me for a loop, all while she just lets it happen. One would expect me to get tired of it, but I was at the point where I had one of her breasts mashed against my face nipple first, while my hand went full-on, squeezing her other boob. The yielding flesh before me squished between my fingers like dough, tapped off with a nipple pointing into the air, miniscule goosebumps splayed across her areola.

Oh. Right.

That was the reason I went on a fondling spree, of course.

One shake of my head and a step back later, her pair of face engulfing boobies were back in front of me. Both of her nipples were erect to a “T,” and giving them the old flick ’n pinch test conveyed that they were ripe and ready to go.

“Well, you had enough time to object.” I gently cupped her right boob, my thumb danced around the front of her tit, making contact with her diamond hard nip; it made contact with my digit and flicked around it before returning to its erect positioning. Fuck, her nipples weren’t the only thing “standing tall” if you know what I’m saying.

Without much more hesitation, I took hold of my mother by the arms and moved her around. That was easier said than done since she was distinctly taller than me with a much more “developed” build, but it also wasn’t significantly challenging either with her not doing anything to restrict me and all.

Like the good milk jug she is, she didn’t do anything.

After managing to turn her around, she was pushed ass first against the counter, the buttocks I had severely punished just a while ago squashed against the sink while my face similarly mashed against the second set of pillows she was packing on her chest. Fuck. Women are just really fucking soft. Did you know that?

You did?

Good, because If I (for some fuck ass reason) wasn’t aware of that, I certainly knew now.

My face sank into the cushion of her tits, specifically the left one. Or right. Honestly, it’s all a blur. What I could say for sure was that she definitely played the part of a milk jug. With my head buried into the squishy surface of her boob, everything was more or less dark, yet her nipple was securely in my mouth (or close enough for my taste.) And tasting was precisely what I was on the lookout for. Something about licking her boobs up from head to toe sounded arousing enough, and I definitely did begin that avenue in my bout of boob worshiping. My tongue found its way from the round surface of her tit to dance around her areola in a repeated circling motion, so gradually that I may have noticed the light goosebumps that lined her boobflesh. The action gave me a somewhat salty-like taste of her skin, but her areola wasn’t the main goal here.

With my mouth clamped around her nipple, I did what my basic childlike urges directed me to do.

I sucked.

And sucked.

And...

Well, shit.

It writes itself!

Now, I can’t say for sure what I expected. Because I know, surprise, surprise. I never sucked on the tits of a busty woman who was hypnotized into believing she was an inanimate milk container. Yeah, I know, I know, how fucking lame is that. Anyway, As the muted sounds of muffled suckling droned throughout the silence of the room. My mouth was greeted with something that I hadn’t been entirely expecting.

See.

With her being triggered into all these situations, I hadn’t believed that she could do anything that broke the limits of human biology. And with my limited knowledge of science and whatnot (my lackluster grades should speak on how much I know about that subject), I frankly assumed that she couldn’t produce milk. Yeah, they bounce around. But that’s what bags of fat do; they jiggle. I didn’t think they were jostling about because they were baking some thirst-quenching milk. You know? Whenever I brought it up, it was just for show—like overexaggerating to make the narration come off as more sexual.

You know what I mean.

Like when you see a chick walking, and there’s a nice jiggle on her rack, you might think, “Oh, she’s got a nice bounce.” Where, in a porn story, it’s more like, “Holy shit! Those tit bags are jostling out of that top! I need to motorboat those big ass milkies!”

Emphasis!

Anyway, I went a little off-topic there.

See what boobies can do to a man?

Yeah...

So...

I was wrong.

Mom can produce milk.

This is one of those situations where I’ll happily take an “L.”

My steady rhythmic suckling went onto an instant overdrive at the flick of a damn switch the moment my tongue got a taste of what her tits were packing. Whether she never lost the ability to lactate, or the 8-ball’s trigger jumped through hoops and ran some mental gymnastics to get her here. But either way, I wasn’t out here to question a gift horse in the mouth.

Mom and her strong-willed self went with the motions, her entire body moving around like a mesmerized doll as I switched into double-handed mode. That’s a fancy way of saying, fuck formalities. She stood in her kitchen utterly fucking defeated but ass naked in front of her son while being fed off of through her tits. Any pleasantries had left the room long after her eyes glazed over.

With my instincts running on their own course, I quickly pulled her back from the counter and lowered her down into a seated position on the tiled floor. Her ass squished against the weight of her body (and mine since my face had a hard time leaving her tits), and she was promptly pushed down onto her back. There she laid naked on the floor; I placed myself between her legs and crouched down, knees spread on either side of her toned stomach while her huge rack splayed apart. Raising up momentarily for air, with a full mouth, I savored the taste as surprisingly good; it was milk for sure. I swallowed down the mouth-full of white liquid, causing an audible gulp as I licked my lips and looked down at her tits, wanting more.

Like before, she continued to stare straight ahead, this time looking right towards the kitchen ceiling. Clearly, she was in no rush to complain, and since she’s in charge of everything going on in this house, I suppose that was a wordless way of giving me the go-ahead.

Upon diving back down onto her other tit, my tongue danced out to lick and flick around her nipple as some mindless attempt to stimulate it for the mouth that was to clamp down on it seconds later. All the while, my left hand flew up and dropped down fast enough to meet a skin-slapping clap as my fingers proceeded to grope, squeeze and straight-up molest her bosom between my fingers. Usually, such actions would elicit a reaction from the woman in question, and as much as it was unfortunate that she was always so utterly unaware of most situations that she didn’t seem to enjoy this as much as me... frankly, considering the situation, I didn’t really care. Instead, my mouth went down, and lips clamped around the nipple that had just been primed. I gave her nip the softest of bites as I began to suckle with a hungering intent, and moments later, my efforts were then rewarded with the slowing sensation of milk that washed in a flowing wake into my mouth. The taste and feel of her breast in my hand, as if they were nothing by my property to play with, only helped to stir me on and increase my rate of sucking.

I only took a few brief moments to retract my face to swallow down the white sustenance that had filled my cheeks, only to then return back to her other tit and continue the process. The boob I had just been feasting off took a breather by being my spare hands play toy.

Yes, time moved at quite the blur. Boobs would do that.

But despite my frankly distracted state of mind, the tightening shift in my pants was making it all the more challenging to ignore with each passing intake of milk. It reached the point where I had to pull back with a mouth half full, where I let out a milk-muffled sigh. While drinking down the milk, my hands moved in the same general direction towards my pants.

This situation had to be dealt with.

“Well, since she’s gone, I’ll be the one dealing with this situation,” Zoey leaned against the car and smiled at the two frightened boys. “So, she gave you a rundown on why you were pulled over?”

“U-Uh—” The driver of the car glanced back to the guy in the passenger seat before they both began to fumble for words, “Yea-Yeah, speeding—”

“We wer-w-were going—”

“F-Fast.. b-but like.”

“Not t-tt-too fast, I- I-mean—”

“Okay, okay,” Zoey softly chided the two flabbergasted teens. “First, I promise no one here is going to be getting in trouble today.” She paused and frowned for the first time in front of them, “Well, at least not by me. Whatever happens, once I let you go is on you.”

The teen behind the wheel blinked. “You...y-you’re not charg-charing us? But she—”

“Don’t mind what the other officer said,” Zoey dismissed him with a cocked hip. She raised her hands up to remove her shades and place them in her breast pocket. “And try not to worry when a police officer pulls you over, okay? A lot of time freaking out just isn’t a good look. And, I get it, officers can be scary. But we’re all people. Some are more... “grumpy” than others,” That was the most she could say in regards to Brooke while on cam, but if the camera were off, she’d have a lot more to say about the chick.. “But we’re all people. And you have me now, so disregard everything she said. Let me explain the situation.”

The two did just as she asked; their demeanors grew noticeably (albeit not too significantly) more relaxed. “Okay.. thanks,”

“So,” Zoey pulled out a box of gum, “Want some?”

They both shook their heads, and she shrugged before popping one into her mouth. It wasn’t the most professional thing to do, but she wouldn’t be getting penalized over something as minuscule as eating gum, especially when she’s as liked as she is in the office.

She continued talking and took a step to the side to gesture back up the road. “This road does have a forty-five limit, which you were exiting. But that off-ramp is extremely short, considering the speed Highway twenty-seven is expecting. It’s just human error to gradually slow, and there isn’t enough wiggle room to do that effectively, so many people come down here a lot faster than they should. You just need to be more careful, alright?” She looked back towards the two and made eye contact, “The other officer might have been... a bit of a grouch, but she’s completely right. Even though the road was designed poorly, you need to be conscious of your speed at all times. People can and will get harmed if you don’t. Including yourselves.” Raising her hand up, she racked her fingers against the top of the car, “Now, you guys have a clean record, and even though we could “technically” charge you with reckless driving and run up a ticket or two. I’m deciding to let you guys go. You’re young and made a very understandable mistake. I probably would have done the same thing, so I can’t judge.” She laughed. “I don’t want to be the cop who gives you your first-ever ticket. So... we’ll just leave this as a warning. How does that sound?”

It took a moment for the boys to respond, but when they eventually found their words, they seemed more than grateful; both of them expressed their appreciation. Zoey, in turn, just smirked and licked her lips while returning her shades atop the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m pretty cool.” Zoey winked before covering her eyes. “But on a serious note, I won’t be so lax a second time. So make sure to watch that speed gauge.”

“Uhh-y-yes ‘mam!”

“Alright,” again; she racked her hand against the top of the car and stepped back. “I think we’re done here. As much as I wish I could say this, all officers are different. That’s why I became one. Not everyone has the highest opinion of us; all I can do is try my best to remedy that.” she stopped chewing her gum for a moment to blow a bubble. “I bring that up to say,” her finger pointed towards them, “Just try to follow the rules, keep your head low, and hopefully, you won’t have to have another encounter.”

After giving whatever bit of advice she could muster off the top of her head for those two, she bid them a farewell and let the two drive off.

Zoey sighed as her cruiser chimed its open-door notification while she clambered back inside.

See, just talking is so much easier than writing up a report. If a situation can be handled without going to any extreme measures, why do her peers choose to write up so many people? Actually, she’s not kidding anyone; everyone knows very well the reason why. But, regardless, they can do what they want, and she’ll do what she wants. If it annoys her colleagues that she tries her best to make the community safe AND happy, then so fucking be it.

It also didn’t help that those boys were her brother’s age.

When she heard the report, Brooke notified as “two young teens,” her instincts just pushed her to check in and see what was going on. Now, yes, a lot of the time, teens are inept dumbasses who need a snap on the wrist to get back on track. Though, other times, they are just misguided and in the wrong situation at the wrong time. Officers should be fully capable of discerning one situation from another and weighing the options appropriately to come to a reasonable conclusion. But Brooke, on the other hand, seemed to be more pushed on emotion than anything else. Just because she could slap a reckless case on those two boys, doesn’t mean she should.

And really, if it were her brother in that situation instead of two random teens. She might’ve ended up being more direct than subtle, especially since it seemed like Ryan was in his own heap of trouble, to begin with.

That card with the message hidden with invisible ink was certainly odd...

But that on its own didn’t mean much.

Except, it was anything but, “on its own” considering his off behavior as of late. Just a month ago, they’d been constantly talking, the poor kid needed to get him some more friends, but at the same time, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy her brother’s ongoing company. But, out of nowhere, he just became more distant; something grew to push them apart.

It would be great if he had just gotten a girlfriend or something to distract him. The girlfriend theory was definitely ruled out since she knew without a semblance of a doubt he’d be harassing her on the daily for info on what girls would like. But he was still most definitely distracted.

Why, or with what, worried her.

A sudden change in the general attitude and vibe between them...

A complete lack of communication...

A card with an invisible message that made no logical sense...

Yeah, it didn’t add up.

But hey, that’s why she’s working to become a detective. To solve cases that just don’t make sense. If she’s going to get paid to crack down on the truth for random people, she can sure as hell work on a situation involving her own family.

Hopefully, before he falls too far off the deep end in whatever shit he got himself into.

Though, it’s been no more than a month. And it’s Ryan she’s on about; how far off the deep end could he have possibly gone?