The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Why’s mom acting weird?”

Marielle’s question makes my heart stop in my chest, and I blink at her owlishly, wondering how the game I’m trying to play has been given up so fast.

“W-what?” I stammer.

She wrinkles her nose at me, her blue eyes narrowing. “The paranoia? The box thief shit? What the fuck is that all about?”

“Oh!” I breathe a sigh of relief and can’t help the stupid smile that breaks out across my face, even though I’m certain it’s going to make my little sister more irritated.

Half-sister, my mind corrects pedantically, but then I hear Marielle huff in agitation and I blurt out, “Well, would you like it if someone stole from you?”

“Whatever,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I doubt anyone is stealing our mail. Nothing ever happens in this bumfuck town. It’s pointless living here—I’ve been dying of boredom for years.”

I finish off my lunch (which mom had lovingly prepared for us before heading off to work this morning) and push away from the table. “Well, we’re stuck here, so get over it.”

“No, we’re not,” she answers.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you ever think about leaving? We’re not kids anymore, Aaron.”

I blink at her again. Leaving? No, I’ve never really thought about leaving. For one, I don’t really have any motivation to get a real job (even though I’m nineteen) or an urge to do anything big with my life. Two, it would absolutely crush my mother to leave her—and I can’t believe that Marielle would want to leave the woman who has given everything for us, either. Three . . . well, I’ve already started my “new life” here, by giving my mom one of the pills, and I’m excited to see how that all pans out….

Which also means Marielle can’t leave either, as she’s part of my future plans, too.

I decide to play it cool. “I dunno. We have everything we need right here, don’t we?”

Marielle huffs again. “I guess. If you want to rot away and live with mom constantly babying you….”

That really doesn’t sound so bad, I want to tell her, but I don’t. Instead I shrug, my gaze drifting over her pretty, concerned face and trying not to focus on her voluptuous tits.

Ever since I got off with my mom this morning, it’s been difficult not to sexualize everything. My sister’s huge breasts have always been interesting to me, but now they are simply mesmerizing. Especially since I know that I might actually get to see them in full one day, might actually get to touch them….

“Aaron!” she bites out, wrapping her arms around herself. “What the hell?”

“Huh?” I play stupid, then glare at her. “Don’t be gross,” I chide.

She blushes as I turn away from her like she’s the one being weird. We spend the rest of the day avoiding each other, with her getting up to her usual tasks of chatting on the phone with “friends” she’s met online, and me playing video games.

I start to get antsy as it gets closer to the time my mom gets off work. I try not to watch the clock, but realize I’m holding my breath and glancing at it, my pulse skittering as I wonder what’s going to happen when she gets home.

Will she bring up what happened this morning? Or is she going to act like nothing happened and everything’ll just go back to normal? Did the pill actually work or was our interaction just a fluke?

I’m nearly sweating when I hear her keys in the door, my eyes trained on the game I’m no longer trying to win, my focus hyper-attuned to every second ticking by.

“Did you have a good day, my love?” she asks cheerfully as she comes through the door.

I grin nervously at her, hearing Marielle slam the bedroom door shut (probably cause she’s talking to some rando on the phone and doesn’t want to be bothered), and nod. Mom grins back at me, her hazel eyes latching onto mine and filling with fervent heat. She looks so good in her trim office attire, her black pencil skirt showing off her toned legs and rounded butt—but I only have a moment to admire it before she rushes over and pulls me up and into her arms.

“Uh, er did you have a good one . . . a good day, too?” I stammer awkwardly, instantly consumed by her citrus-spice aura.

“I missed you . . . but yes,” she purrs. “Are you hungry?”

Mom has always been affectionate and loving, but never this affectionate and loving. It’s definitely the pill I fed her. And I definitely don’t hate it (with the way my cock is ballooning out and she’s all pressed up against it), but it’s still a complete surprise . . . and something that needs to be hidden from my sister.

“I can always eat,” I joke, gently pushing her away.

But as soon as I look down at her face, she leans forward and gives me a kiss straight on the lips. I don’t move for a moment, tasting her sweet breath and a hint of lipstick as shock explodes inside me like fireworks, but then I duck my head and mutter, “I don’t think Marielle would uh….”

Understand? Approve? Believe that my first kiss came from mom? I’m not sure how to finish the sentence, but my mom just laughs softly and whispers, “I know. Our secret.”

But are we really going to be able to hide it? I wonder nervously, especially when my mom bites her lower lip and teasingly unbuttons the front of her white blouse.

“What’re you doing?” I whisper, my eyes stuck on her pretty, nimble fingers, and the way each un-done button exposes more and more smooth, soft skin.

She winks at me and pulls the blouse off, showing me her lacy, black bra and perky tits. “Getting changed, of course….”

I swallow, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head as she undoes the bra. “Out here?”

The bra falls away and I suck in a sharp breath. Her tits are almost just like I imagined them. The dusky-brown nipples a little smaller, the upper globes a little more freckled, but just as beautiful and unblemished as I’d pictured—and a perfect handful size each.

They’re fucking amazing, Jesus….

She giggles and brushes her fingertips over my clenched knuckles, almost like she can hear my thoughts. “You can touch them if you want….”

I do want, I realize blindly, my heart thumping so hard that I can barely think. We’re being stupid and we might get caught, but I don’t even care as my shaky hands reach up and cup my mom’s magnificent breasts. They’re warm and firm under my palms, her nipples hardening and poking into me softly as I gently squeeze.

“Mmm,” she moans softly, and my cock twitches at the sexy noise, spurting an excited burst of pre-cum and making a wet spot on my jeans.

“Wow.” It feels stupid as soon as it comes out of my mouth, but all I want to do is keep feeling up her tits—feel the forbidden softness against my hands, my mouth, my cock….

Her dilated pupils fix onto mine, and as though she is somehow directed by my thoughts, I feel her nimble fingers undoing the zip of my jeans.

“Mom?”

“Shh . . . it’s fine,” she mouths, pulling out my leaking cock with quick expertise. “Marielle’s busy….”

I can’t believe this is all happening. My head swims like I’ve been hit, red-hot lust making me dizzy. I bite back a groan as she squeezes my cock with her soft, bare hand, nearly cumming right then and there before she kneels down and rubs my cockhead against one bare tit. Flutters of pleasure go all through me as her pebbled nipple stimulates my overly sensitive tip.

She doesn’t SEEM mindless, but this is definitely NOT my mother, I think frantically, trying not to cum.

But didn’t I want the pill to work? Didn’t I want her to love and adore me in this way?

“Yes,” I hiss as she lifts my cock to her mouth and kisses it. “Oh fuck….”

I’ve only ever dreamt a girl would do this to me, and now my own mother is kissing and licking my cock like it’s her favorite thing in the entire world. Her perfect mouth glides over me in peppered licks and kisses, and then suddenly warm heat engulfs me, and I choke on a moan as my brain goes haywire.

She’s sucking my cock! my internal thoughts howl. My mom is sucking my cock!

I hear Marielle open the bedroom door and that’s all it takes for me to cum in a rush of adrenaline and pleasure—my knees buckling, my entire body trembling as spurt after spurt of semen coats the back of my mom’s throat. She swallows silently. I can’t move. There’s a breath of time that’s only white bliss, before my mom quickly puts me away and tugs her bra and shirt back on. The bathroom door opens and closes.

A near miss, I think wildly, knowing that there’s only a minute or two before Marielle comes out to see what we’re up to—to ask about dinner—to complain about something….

“What’re you hungry for?” my mom asks softly, standing up and looking me straight in the eye like she didn’t just suck me off in the middle of the goddamned living room, with the music from my video game still playing in the background.

“Uh w-whatever,” I stammer, trying to catch my breath.

“Steak and potatoes? Or spaghetti and meatballs?”

I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Everything feels so surreal. My mom just drank my cum and is now asking me what dinner option I prefer!

I stare at her reddened lips, blinking rapidly as I mumble, “Steak sounds good, yeah.”

The bathroom door opens and Marielle comes skipping out. She doesn’t seem to notice the smell of sweat or semen in the air, even though it’s the only thing I can focus on, or our reddened faces. “Hey, can we order pizza for dinner?”

“Aaron wants steak.”

“That’s not fair!” Marielle whines, glaring at me as I quickly sit down and pretend to be invested in my video game. “Why does he get to choose? Shouldn’t I get a vote?”

“Pizza is fine,” I concede generously.

I can’t believe all this is happening, even though it’s all my doing, and even though it’s exactly what I wanted. Mom nods and calls in the order, and I don’t even mind that Marielle chooses a garlic chicken pizza when I’d have preferred a meat lovers, my blissed-out mind just happy that we got away with it, that my dumb little sister suspects nothing.

I can’t believe that in 24 hours I’ve managed to get off with my mom twice, without my sister suspecting a thing, and that dinner together last night went smoothly (even though my mom played footsy with me under the table, making me blush and choke on my pizza).

That is, until, the next morning when I find Marielle staring up at me from the middle of our bedroom, her blue eyes contemplative. “Morning. Do you think mom’s having a nervous breakdown or something?”

“Uh, morning,” I answer groggily, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “Whaddya mean?”

“She’s just acting . . . different,” my little sister insists, twirling a lock of blonde hair in her fingers.

“No?”

“Yeah. First the thief shit—then when I tried to bring it up last night she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about! And she seems loopy or out of it . . . do you think she’s on something?”

“On something?”

“Yeah, you fucking dork—drugs or something!”

I fight back a cringe, then roll my eyes at her, like I think she’s being absurd. “If anyone was on drugs, it’d be you.”

“Rude!” Marielle snaps, clenching her fists by her sides.

“Listen,” I lie, coming up with bullshit before I can even think it through. “She probably just realizes that we’re growing up and that someday soon we might move away. Don’t you think that worries her? Don’t you think that she might be hurt about having an empty nest—or whatever?”

Her big blue eyes widen, and for a second, she looks shaken. “I guess so.”

“So stop being such a cunt to her.”

“I’m not a cunt!” Marielle wails, stooping down to grab a handful of dirty clothes to throw at me. “You’re the one who can’t keep our goddamned room clean!”

I smile to myself at my ability to keep her distracted so easily. But then I realize, by glancing at the alarm clock down on the bedside table, that it’s a quarter to eight. Why didn’t mom pop in to ask us what we wanted for breakfast? There was no way she hadn’t both finished her run and left for work by now….

Or is something wrong? Did the pill I fed her do something? Is she sick in bed or worse?

I climb down the top bunk, dropping to the floor swiftly, and ask, “Did mom leave without making us breakfast?”

Marielle smirks at me. “No. You just slept through it.”

“What?”

I did have a really good sleep, my body exhausted from all the excitement (and semen-draining) it went through yesterday.

“Yeah, we had blueberry pancakes,” Marielle says smugly, knowing that I hate them. “She didn’t want to wake you for some reason….” Her face twists as she contemplates that (because mom always wakes us up whether we like it or not), but then she smiles again. “Guess you’re not always her favorite.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re getting fat on pancakes while I sleep.” I smirk back, not able to help myself from prodding at her.

She storms out of the room while cursing at me, telling me to clean up my shit before she burns it in the backyard. I find myself tidying up while I think about the second pill I’ve hidden in my dresser—about how I’m going to get Marielle to consume it—about how I’m tired of her bullshit.

But shouldn’t you wait until you fully know how everything plays out? my worried mind nags at me as I load up a basket with dirty clothes.

I find a few articles of my sister’s clothing as I prepare to do a basketful of laundry, and generously include them in my load, including a single pair of pink panties, which I can’t help but secretly lift to my nose, inhaling the salty-sweet smell of my sister’s prissy cunt.

Half-sister, my mind insists again, but everything inside me trembles happily at the scent of her girly-juices, my body flooding with arousal as I picture her wet, virgin pussy and imagine tasting it.

I know she’s never been with anyone before, just like me, because we’re so sheltered—but I also know it’s only a matter of time before she meets some idiot and runs off with him. Especially with all her talk about not wanting to live here anymore. Especially with all the dumb people she meets online and talks to on the phone.

That’s for later me to worry about, I decide as I throw everything into the washing machine and dump some soap in.

But I can’t help but spend the rest of the day secretly listening in on my sister’s phone conversations. It’s risky, since she always sequesters herself somewhere—like the bedroom or bathroom—and I have to lurk outside the door, but I manage not to get caught, although all I hear is her one-sided whining about how bored she is living in our desolate town, and how much she wishes she could afford to go to college, or to “find herself” and travel.

It makes me anxious that she wants to leave, but there isn’t much I can do about it (until I’m ready to use the second pill, at least). I know that even if we had the money, my mom would never let her go. There’s no way Marielle has her own money either, because she’s an even lazier shit than me. Overall, I wish that she’d just be content with the life we have, and not bitch and moan all the time about wanting more.

It’s not like we want for anything here. We have everything we need!

Everything YOU need, you mean, my traitorous mind tells me.

I refuse to listen to it as I settle down in the living room to play my console, getting lost in my shooter matches until mom gets home. I’m still a little butthurt that she didn’t wake me for breakfast, but since she left my favorite BLTs for lunch, I decide that I’m not going to mention it.

“Aaron!” she says lovingly, as she bursts through the front door after work. “Did you have a good day, sweetheart?”

Her perfect, freckled face and stunning smile lights up the entire room, and I get lost in her hazel eyes before nodding. She looks amazing as always, with her brown hair done up in a sexy ponytail and her trim outfit showing off her sensual, toned body. I’m almost hopeful for another blowjob before my bratty sister stomps in.

“Aaron did my delicates with his gross laundry!” she shouts. “I’ve told him not to touch my things!”

“Well, you left them on the floor,” I insist, stiffening.

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

“Stop fighting, you two,” my mom huffs, rolling her eyes. “It was nice of your brother to do your washing, Marielle. Be more grateful.”

I smile smugly at my shocked sister, who can only scowl at me.

“Aaron, what would you like for dinner, my darling?” my mom says lovingly.

“We’re not having steak for dinner,” Marielle butts in, already knowing what I’m about to choose. “I hate steak.”

“And I hate blueberry pancakes,” I whisper snottily.

I know I shouldn’t try to goad her with everything going on, but she’s always getting on my nerves, and I’m sick of her entitled behavior.

“Aaron deserves steak and potatoes,” my mom says firmly. “You know it’s his favorite. I made your favorite this morning.”

Marielle has the nerve to cry, blubbering like a child and stomping off to our room like she’s been beaten.

“I hate when she gets this way,” my mother says quietly, shaking her head.

I help my mom prepare the steak and potatoes, knowing that my sister will get over her fit when she smells the food cooking, and that she’ll wander out to join us when it’s ready (especially because mom always makes her a side salad and a porkchop instead).

“I missed you,” she says coyly as we work, and I can’t help but blush when she pushes her hip into mine, winking conspiratorially.

“I missed you, too.”

I don’t really want to encourage her flirty behavior when I know Marielle might come out and witness it, but I can’t help it as we continue to brush up against each other, all light, teasing touches and heated looks, my boner swelling thicker and thicker in my pants.

By the time we sit down to dinner, I have a full hardon trying to burst through my zip, and my mom is eyeing me like a hungry dog does meat, all the while my sister has pouty tears in her eyes and her mouth puffed up like she’s been mistreated.

“I hate steak,” she grumbles, even though she’s been given her salad and porkchop.

We both ignore her as we dig in, and then I hear my mom slip her high-heels off, the soft clatter of them against the tiled, kitchen floor, before I feel her stockinged foot graze my leg.

“It’s really good,” I choke out, glancing at Marielle nervously.

She’s not really paying attention, glumly staring at her food (even though it’s shit she likes), and slowly forking small bites into her pretty, pink mouth. “Whatever.”

I can’t help but stare at my sister’s low-cut tank top as my mom’s foot sneakily rises higher and higher on my leg. This all seems like a fever dream, with my sister’s tits bulging sexily from her shirt, her pale cleavage calling my attention, as my mom’s soft toes toy with my calf, my knee, my inner thigh.

It’s hard to keep eating, and I barely manage, when my mom’s foot finally creeps into my crotch, fondling my twitching erection. Pleasure explodes behind my eyes, making me nearly double over as I fight back trembling arousal.

Jesus Christ, I think blindly, still staring at my sister’s tits. I should stop this….

But I don’t. Carefully shifting my gaze between Marielle’s unsuspecting, gloomy face to her heaving breasts—my cock pulsing against the pressure of my mom’s toes, my mind one long blur of: fuck-yes, Jesus-this-feels-good, Christ-this-is-wrong….

I shovel food into my mouth as pleasure blooms all through me, trying to act natural, trying to pretend nothing out of the ordinary is happening.

My eyes shift to my mom’s silly smile and heated eyes just as she presses harder into my cock, and I nearly choke as a groan lodges in my throat.

“Yeah, steak is gross, huh?” Marielle says sulkily.

“It’s good,” I bite out. “So good.”

“Then why’re you gagging….” Marielle mumbles, flicking her irritated gaze at me and then wrinkling her nose at my plate.

I can’t form words anymore as my mom continues to stroke my cock with her nimble, stockinged foot, one of my hands gripping it under the table and pressing it tight against my jeaned-crotch. It feels so fucking wrong to do THIS right in front of my sister—but it also feels so, so right….

It only takes a few more strokes before I’m trembling all over, my sister still sighing over that she didn’t get her way, her cleavage still drawing my attention as I get closer and closer to a narrow tunnel of white.

“I can’t eat anymore,” Marielle says huffily, just as I cum with my lips pressed tight together, with my eyes bugging out of my head. “This porkchop tastes like steak!”

I grunt as rope after rope of semen splashes against the inside of my jeans, nodding dumbly as my mom says, “Well, I did cook it in the same pan as the steaks….” blindly pretending like I’m not having the orgasm of my life with my mom’s sexy left foot, my hazel eyes suddenly locked onto my sister’s accusing blue ones.

“Gross,” she says sullenly.

“Sorry,” I huff out, wondering if she sees the red-faced horndog I’ve become. It takes me a moment to come back to reality, the sticky wetness and golden aftershocks battling through me as I realize how insane this all is—especially with my sister’s wary eyes watching me. I slyly let my mom’s foot go, giving it a thankful squeeze before she repositions herself away from me. Finally, and a little too awkwardly late, I tell Marielle, “But you did get your nasty pancakes this morning….”

“You’re always so vindictive!” she accuses dramatically, shoving herself away from the table.

I can’t help but notice the way her tits jiggle and bounce, even as my mom scolds her for being rude, and even as Marielle ‘accidentally’ elbows me.

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding apologetic at all as she storms off. “Since you like cleaning my shit so much, you can clear my plate!”

Mom shakes her head, frowning. “Don’t worry about it—I’ve got it,” she says, getting up to take care of the cleanup. “I don’t know why your sister is so angry all the time.”

“Probably needs a chill pill,” I joke darkly, but then I feel guilty and blurt out, “or a boyfriend….”

Mom gives me a disappointed look. “You really think so?”

There’s something in her tone that makes my heart drop—that little edge of fear, of abandonment and betrayal of family….

“Nah. She’s fine,” I lie. “Maybe she’s just PMSing.”

When my mom continues to look sullen, I get up to help her with the dishes, nudging into her side playfully. “We both love you so much, you know,” I reassure her. “You’re really all we need….”

The smile she gives me fills me with light, and I know I’ll do anything to protect her happiness, and our family from splitting up. Marielle is just being selfish and short-sighted—but soon she’ll see the truth, that we are really the only people she needs, we’re her family, we’re her everything….

And it’ll just take one pill to reveal it, I think to myself, smiling back at my mom brightly.