The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I wake up to the smell of bacon wafting through my open bedroom door. I had closed it last night when I’d gone to bed, but my mom must have opened it at some point, because it’s open wide and I can hear her down the hall in the kitchen, clanging metalware around as she cooks.

Oh God, is she going to want to talk about what happened last night?

The memories of her mouth on me make my morning wood twitch unpleasantly, as though my cock is telling me it wants a repeat and doesn’t care about all my internal turmoil. I’m about to jump out of bed and softly close and lock my door when I hear, “Alex, breakfast is ready! Come eat!”

Her voice sounds warm and pleasant—not like she’s angry or holding a grudge against me. Maybe she doesn’t even remember last night or how I came down her throat like an animal. My stomach gurgles hungrily at the delicious scent of a home-made breakfast. It’s been a long while since she cooked for me in the morning; usually I just quickly scarf down some cereal before heading out to school. It’s a Saturday though, I realize, and even though she’s usually at her second job on the weekend, maybe she’s taken some time off or something.

Still, I shouldn’t go out there with a raging boner. I think about scurrying into the bathroom to relieve myself before her blonde head peeks into my room, her blue eyes wide and glossy.

“Are you up?” she asks sweetly.

“Uh,” I mutter, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “Not quite….”

She steps into the room to smile at me and my breath leaves me in one big rush. Like last night, she’s still wearing the lacy blue lingerie that accentuates her every curve. My eyes land on her large, milky-white tits and my cock strains harder, leaking pre-cum all over my tense belly.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I stammer, realizing that the drugs definitely haven’t worn off yet.

She gives me an impish smile. “I couldn’t leave you alone and unsatisfied, son. What kind of mother would that make me?”

A normal one, my mind whirs, but I’m starting to feel all hot and squirmy under my bedding, like I really need to get up unless I want to overheat. I tear my eyes away from her and swallow hard, sitting up in bed. The right thing to do would be to make her leave my room, and immediately, before I say or do something that I really regret.

“I’ll be out in a minute, mom.”

“Okay, darling,” she whispers. “But don’t keep me waiting. Everything will get cold.”

Oh fuck, what should I do now? I think to myself helplessly as she saunters out of my bedroom, my traitorous eyes catching on her beautiful hips and luscious ass (it looks really, really good in those little blue panties). I get up and swiftly get dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt, tucking my hardon into the elastic band of my boxer shorts. Maybe my mom took the second pill and that’s why she’s still acting so funny. Maybe after it wears off everything will go back to normal. Maybe I should go out into the kitchen and see if the baggy is still lying there on the counter, either empty or not, just to be sure….

With a thundering heart I try to walk out into the kitchen with a calm casualness, pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary. My pulse skyrockets when I spot the bag sitting just where my mom left it last night. It still has one pill in it. The drug hasn’t worn off yet and I desperately try to remember what the website said about them. It’s hard to remember with my mom giving me let’s-fuck eyes as she parades around the kitchen pouring orange juice and serving up the eggs, bacon, and pancakes for us. The website said something about not being a reject anymore and getting the girl of one’s dreams….

But did that mean permanently or just for a while?

“Is something wrong, son?”

“No, I—uh,” I stammer, quickly taking a seat at the kitchen table in hopes that she won’t notice the bulge in my jeans.

“Do you need me to take care of anything for you before you eat?”

My face flushes hot as I realize that she definitely already knows I’m all horned up and ready to go. “Uh, no—uh, thank you though….”

I quickly begin to shovel food into my mouth, hardly tasting it as I choke it down.

She pouts at me, sticking out her perfectly plump lower lip. “Does my outfit bore you now? I could change into something else . . . or take it off….”

I do choke at that, gasping and spluttering until she comes over and begins to slap me on the back with a panicked, “Alex!”

“I’m okay!” I gasp.

I’m really not okay, I realize horribly—because the thought of her taking off the lingerie makes my head feel all swimmy and my cock is practically throbbing. What does she look like naked? My traitorous mind whispers. You really want to know, don’t you, you horny perv….

I gulp down the orange juice and shake my head. “Please sit and eat, mom.”

“Alright.” She sits primly beside me, carefully forking a bite of eggs into her mouth and chewing delicately.

She’s always been such a lady. It’s shocking to see her acting so wantonly like this. And it’s even more shocking that a part of me is totally into it. That part of me is currently telling me I should quit fighting the inevitable. Obviously, my mom is now my responsibility, because I’m the one who is to blame for her taking the drugs that made her want to do stuff with me. And if she really wants to do stuff, then maybe the only way the drugs will wear off is if I let things play out. Otherwise she might be stuck forever like this—and then what? How will she work and provide for us? Will I have to get a job and keep her as some sort of pet?

The idea makes me feel sick and horny all at once. It would be kind of nice to have such a beautiful sex slave ready to pleasure me at any given moment. I am a young man, after all, and I do have needs. If letting my mom blow me makes her happy, is it really that wrong?

“Are you still mad at me?”

Her soft whisper breaks me from my thoughts and I shoot her a guilty look, frowning. “Of course not, mom.”

She’s the one who should be mad at me.

“I would really like to please you,” she purrs, her mouth twisting into a sly smile.

Oh fuck. I don’t even realize that I’m doing it, but I’m nodding at her like I agree and understand completely. She slides off the chair onto her knees and then crawls under the table. I already know what’s going to happen, but I gasp as her breasts press into my legs and I feel her hands undoing the fly of my jeans. This is so fucking wrong but so fucking hot. Only in my wildest fantasies have I envisioned a hot babe blowing me at the breakfast table while I eat like a king. It can all really happen, and right now, if I let it.

So I help her free my cock and groan loudly as her hot, wet mouth engulfs me just like it did last night. I don’t watch this time, enthralled by the fact that it’s kind of like a glory hole. It doesn’t really matter who’s pleasuring me, right? All that matters is that I have some perfect cumslut blowing me under the table while I have greasy bacon fingers and a belly full of the delicious breakfast. I grip the back of her head and thrust into her eager mouth, enjoying the throaty gluck-gluck-gluck sounds of me pounding her deep. My eyes catch on her watery ones, her mascara wet and smeared, and a jolt of pleasure goes through me as I see the love and devotion on her face even as I abuse her. This isn’t just any cumslut; this is my mother—my beautiful and sensual and off-limits mother—letting me deep throat her and spill my hot load into the tummy I was formed inside.

For some reason that makes everything so much worse and so much better. A white wave of ecstasy rolls through me as my entire body spasms, and then I’m shooting thick ropes of cum while she chokes and swallows, her throat encasing me as I hold her head hard against me so that I’m all the way in.

“Oh fuck,” I groan.

This shouldn’t be happening. But it’s so perfect and it feels so good that I don’t even care, my toes curling as ripples of pleasure course through me. I let her go as the warm glow and aftershocks overtake me, gently pushing her away to let her know that I’m done and satisfied.

“Good job,” I whisper, knowing that I should be a good son and praise her for her brilliant efforts. “Finish your breakfast.”

She pops up red-faced and with a lovely wet mouth—and I can’t help but stare at her as she obediently and delicately begins to eat again, like she’s made to listen to my every command.

“Take off your bra,” I say, just curious to see if she’ll listen immediately.

She begins to undo it, and my eyes widen as her beautiful tits are fully exposed to me, her dusky pink nipples hardening in the cool air of our kitchen. I shouldn’t be seeing her like this, topless and vulnerable and exposed. I shouldn’t be wanting to bury my face in those luscious tits and sucking on the points that breastfed me as a child. But I do want to, and so I tell her, “Get up and come over here.”

Her tits feel so warm and full in my hands, spilling out across my palms as I squeeze and jiggle them. My cock doesn’t even seem to care that I’ve just gotten off; it’s still hard, and it’s telling me to suck and mark up her perfect tits to my heart’s content. I lave her nipples with my tongue, enjoying her soft whimpers as I grope her and suck purple hickeys across her soft skin. This is almost just like I imagined it would be when I used to beat off to all my MILF porn, but now it’s real, and even better, burning into my memory like a brand.

“Show me your pussy,” I whisper into her tits, no longer caring that she’s my mom and overtaken by how good she smells and tastes. The hot, red lust of having my boyish fantasies fulfilled makes me feel quite high, as does the heady rush of power consuming me. I have a hot chick willing to do whatever I tell her to do. It’s fucking wonderful.

She steps back from me, slowly pulling off her tight, little blue panties. I’ve seen a thousand pussies before in magazines and on the internet, but when my mom exposes her glistening mound to me—perfectly shaved and pink, the little bud of her clit just poking from in between her bare lips—I find that I can hardly breathe.

God she’s so perfect. And I know without a doubt that I want to fuck her. On the couch, on the floor, in my bed—everywhere. I want to fuck her until she can’t walk and until my balls are so dry they shoot dust.

A loud knock on the door makes me flinch so hard the table rattles. My mom looks behind us, her luscious body going tight and making her tits sway.

“Grab your lingerie and go to your room,” I hiss.

My boner flags in fear as she listens and I hastily rearrange myself in my jeans, zipping myself up and getting up to answer the unwanted intruder. I crack open the door and peer out, my face going pale as I see my smokeshow of a cousin, Sarah, staring up at me.

“Hey Alex, is your mom home?”

“Uh, hi….” I cough when I realize that my voice sounds rather rough—like I’ve just done something I should be feeling guilty for (like gotten off in my mom’s mouth and then been moments away from getting off in her forbidden pussy).

“Hi,” she drawls, smirking at me.

My face turns red when I see a knowing look in her hazel eyes, like she understands that I’ve always found her to be attractive but have spent years trying to hide it.

“So? Your mom?”

“She’s at work,” I lie.

“Oh….” She flips her long brown hair and frowns at me. “Well, can you tell her I stopped by?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then,” she says awkwardly, turning to leave.

“Uh, nice to see you, by the way….”

I shut the door quickly and groan, knowing that I sounded like a complete idiot but that it’s too late to do anything about it. Why the hell is Sarah coming by our place unannounced? I haven’t seen her in over five years, but she’s still just as hot as I remember her—maybe even more so now that her tits seem to have grown even bigger.

I wait a few minutes before I head down the hall to mom’s room and call out, “Sarah just came by looking for you….”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm,” I start, and then my voice leaves me as I open the bedroom door and see my mom lying naked in her bed with one hand on her breasts and one hand between her legs, obviously toying with herself.

She doesn’t stop as I watch her, my cock springing back to life at the beautiful sight. My mom is obviously horny. Did blowing me make her aroused? Did she do this last night after I went to bed? A new red rush engulfs my mind, making me nearly sway where I stand.

“I forgot to tell you,” she says breathily. “Sarah just graduated university and is going to do an internship with me at the office. She’ll be moving in with us in a few weeks.”

“What?” The shock I feel dampens my lust, but only barely, because I quickly think about the other pill I have just sitting on the counter and waiting for another beautiful girl to consume it—waiting for another beautiful girl to turn into my pet.

Sarah would be perfect. She might even still be a virgin, at twenty-four, and even if not, I totally want to fuck her raw, anyway. I’ve always wanted to.

“She can’t afford rent anywhere, so I said we’d help her out. Is that okay, son?” My mom slips her fingers inside herself, and I’m mesmerized by the wetness leaking out of her, dripping down to puddle on the white blanket of her bed.

Oh, fuck yeah; it’s more than okay. But first I should definitely lose my virginity in preparation for my smokeshow of a cousin. My mom will be the perfect person to teach me how to fuck a girl right—and suddenly it seems like everything is falling into place like it should be. I’ll fuck my mom over and over and over, and then Sarah will move in and I’ll make sure to grind up the pill into one of her drinks before she notices something is off with our entire situation, and then I’ll fuck her over and over again, too.

The thought makes me so horny that I rip down my jeans and approach my mom with new purpose.

“I need you,” I tell her, groaning as she pulls her wet hand away and reaches for me with both arms.

I climb on top of her and crush my mouth to hers, gasping as her tongue brushes against mine, and the taste of something sweet and heady fills me. For some reason I’d expected to lose my virginity slowly and awkwardly, but my mom grabs my cock and pushes it into her without preamble, and hot, white pleasure rips through me at the sudden warmth of her soaked cunt. It’s so warm and wet and inviting that I immediately start to thrust hard, my head buzzing as her loud moans fill my ears. God, she feels so fucking good—so fucking perfect. I pound into her, the slick sounds of flesh on flesh urging me on as I bury myself deeper and deeper, groaning as she wraps her long, slim legs around me and thrusts back, grinding our pelvises together and making me feel like I’m drowning inside her, drowning in pleasure.

“Fuck me, oh fuck me,” she whimpers.

God, my prim and perfect mother is such a horny slut and it’s driving me wild. I can’t believe I’m fucking the woman who gave birth to me in her very own bed, totally raw and rough like some sort of beast. Her legs clamp tight around me and she keens, shuddering with her eyes rolled back in her head. I’m making my own mother cum, and the wrongness of that sends a white, hot jolt of bliss through me, so that I’m straining against her and spending myself, too; the wet gush of my cum fills her up and bathes her cervix as I still and let my orgasm overtake me.

I groan low and deep, my mouth open against her ear as I begin to curse with each spasm of my cock. It’s mindblowingly wonderful, to cum like this, pinned against her and feeling her inner walls milk every last drop from me. I want it to never end.

I give a few more shaky thrusts as I drain the last of me inside of her, and then I slump against her warm body, engulfed by the embrace of her arms and legs as she cradles me.

“Such a good boy,” she murmurs. “You’re such a good son, Alex.”

Am I? I wonder, as I pant and hold her. I might’ve just bred my mother, and worst of all, I don’t really care if she gets pregnant and bears me a child. Worse, it kind of turns me on, thinking that I’ve just knocked her up and that I’ll definitely try to do it again later, even after the endorphins wear off and the guilt hits me, I know I’ll do it at least a few dozen more times when the urge hits me like this again.

She holds me for a long while as I soften inside her, murmuring little praises for me as I doze in and out of consciousness. In my half dreams, I see Sarah coming to stay with us, wearing her little short-shorts and tight crop tops that she seems to love so much (her sexy outfits have always driven me crazy, and I used to memorize them every time she came over in the past). I see myself grinding the pill Billy didn’t want into powder and serving it to her in a drink right when she arrives here with her suitcases. I see her eyes glaze over as my mom’s had done, and envision her stunning face gaze at me as wantonly as my mom does now, begging me to let her please me, begging me to fuck her. I see her staying in my bed with me every night, because we don’t have any extra bedrooms and I’m definitely not going to let her sleep on the couch; she’ll be made into my dream girlfriend and living sex doll.

God, how freaking lucky am I that Billy and I got drunk that one night and ordered weird pills off the internet? My life is already beyond my wildest dream, and it’s about to get even better. I fuck my mom one more time before noon, flooding her pussy with my cum while I think about fucking Sarah, and I realize: this is all more than I ever wanted or deserved, but it’s all mine now—mine.