The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’ve been nervous for the weekend ever since I drugged my mom, wondering how the hell Marielle isn’t going to have concrete proof about how strange she’s acting when we’re all locked up in the house together for 48 hours straight. Saturday morning also marks the full 48 hours from when I gave my mom the pill, and so I know it’ll definitely be in full effect.

Will she be even more flirty with me? She’s already hugged me to orgasm, sucked me off in the living room, and given me a foot job in front of my unsuspecting sister—what more could she do?

So much more, I realize nervously as I hear her go out the front door for a run.

I lie awake and stare at the clock, watching the minutes tick by as I contemplate what breakfast might look like. Will she expose herself to me in front of Marielle? Will she try to kiss me openly? Or will she secretly get me off somehow without my sister noticing?

The thought makes me rock-hard but also shaky and anxious. Marielle isn’t completely stupid, and she’s already noticed something’s wrong, so every little move my mom makes could be the one that exposes us.

I can’t help but stroke myself though, remembering staring at my sister’s huge tits as my MILF mom rubbed my throbbing cock through my jeans with her soft foot. Getting caught would have been awful, but the fear of it was so thrilling, and watching Marielle’s unsuspecting face as I ejaculated in my jeans was fucking hot.

I’m nearly there when my mom pops her head through the bedroom door, and I gasp in embarrassment as she calls out, “Oh! You’re already up I see….”

How the hell didn’t I hear her come in?

“M-morning,” I bite out, pulling the covers back over me.

“You’re fine, darling,” she whispers sexily, winking at me—and my heart hammers away in my chest as Marielle groans sleepily, tossing on the bunk under me; Mom doesn’t seem to care, purring, “Want me to help?”

“Uhh….”

I’m panicking and insanely aroused as she strides in, her heated eyes locked onto mine, her toned body glistening with fresh sweat from her run. She’s wearing an even skimpier running outfit that usual—her flat tummy on full display and the zippered crop-top exposing her freckled, rounded cleavage.

Oh fuck, Marielle’s going to wake up, my mind screams as my mom begins climbing up the ladder. There’s no explanation for this—tell her to STOP—

But I don’t, my cock twitching excitedly as she pulls back the blankets to expose me. She reaches for my aching erection greedily, and just as her warm hand wraps around it, fearful pleasure explodes through me, and my hips buck as I spray cum all over my bare chest.

“That’s a good boy,” she purrs, blowing me a silent kiss and then quietly descending back down to the floor. “Are you two hungry?” she asks loudly, making my sister curse. “Or do you want breakfast in bed?”

“In bed!” Marielle gripes. “Pancakes!”

“Fine, pancakes for the princess and waffles for my prince,” my mom says with a laugh. “I bet you both want bacon and eggs, too.”

I nod, still in shock that I just came all over myself from one squeeze of my mom’s soft hand—and that Marielle was right underneath me while it happened.

“Yeah, now go make it,” Marielle whines. “Let us sleep a little longer while you cook….”

My mom gives me a pointed smile as I blink at her, carefully wiping the wetness away with my top sheet, my face burning red, but she only says, “Alright. Be back in twenty.”

The rest of the morning goes by normally; Marielle and I are served a delicious breakfast on trays, my sister bickers with me until I leave her to chat with her friends in privacy to go shower, and mom deep cleans the house, as she usually does on Saturdays.

I decide to get out of everyone’s way and go mow some lawns for pocket change, and by the time I finish my rounds of the neighborhood, it’s nearly dark, and I’m sweaty and starving.

“Aaron, you missed lunch!” my mom scolds me as I walk through the front door. “We were worried sick about you!”

Marielle rolls her eyes. “Not really….”

I stick my tongue out at my little sister, then shrug at my mom. “Well, I sure could eat now. Made a hundred bucks today—pizza on me?”

I feel like I should do something that shows my appreciation for her. The house looks and smells wonderful—all vacuumed, dusted, and with a clean, lemon-bleach scent that means that she’s scrubbed every surface and mopped every floor. It’s nice that she never expects me or my little sister to pitch in . . . but it does make me feel guilty, too.

“Oh, look who’s stepping up,” Marielle says under her breath in a sulky, unappreciative way. “Mister Big-Shot….”

“That’s very nice of you, darling. How about we make a movie night out of it? I’ll whip up some popcorn and rice-krispie treats!”

Marielle brightens; she’s always loved mom’s homemade treats (and although she’d never admit it, she’s always liked having family movie nights, too). It’s not long until we’re all piled on the couch, shoveling food into our faces and laughing at the romantic comedy that my little sister picked out.

“I’m grabbing blankets for this next one,” Marielle tells me as soon as her movie ends. “I know you’re going to pick something boring.”

I always find it funny how she sits through my space adventure movies anyway, and I give her a big smile as she comes back into the living room in her nightgown (making sure not to get caught looking at her freely swaying tits) and settles herself in front of the couch with her pillows and blankets, making a make-shift nest on the floor.

“I guess that means we have the couch to ourselves,” my mom says with a laugh, but I catch the glint in her eyes as she smirks at me and feel heat rise into my face.

Is she really going to make a move on me while my little sister is right in front of us?

I feel my cock throb inside my basketball shorts as she slides closer to me, her eyes flicking to the screen as I select an old classic. I can smell the fruity shampoo she always uses after her shower and it makes my head swim with dirty thoughts. Even though she cleaned the entire house, she still made herself look nice afterward, with just the right touch of make-up, a pretty blouse, and jean shorts that show off her long, silky-smooth legs. She looks like a pretty, next door girl type combined with a smokeshow MILF—casual and athletic yet mature and well put together. No wonder I’ve always had such a weird crush on her….

We make it halfway through the movie before she puts a hand on my leg. I pretend not to notice and try to focus on the screen, even as her hand moves higher and higher. Is this really going to happen? My heart races in nervous excitement. My little sister is playing on her phone and not paying attention to either us or the movie, but at any moment she could roll over to complain about something and see us. Mom doesn’t say a word to me, doesn’t even turn her face towards me; it’s like she’s completely absorbed with the movie instead of fondling her own son.

Her fingers are inches from my crotch when Marielle stands up and stretches. “I need to pee,” she says, not even glancing at us as she wanders towards the bathroom. “Pause it.”

My mom clicks the pause button on the remote, waits a few seconds, and as soon as the bathroom door shuts, she pushes the elastic waistband of my shorts down, grabs the base of my cock, and guides the tip to her mouth, her lips closing around it and making my hips jolt.

“Jesus,” I groan, watching in amazement as her wide, hazel eyes look up at me innocently. Her sinful tongue swirls around my cockhead, making me spurt excited dribbles of pre-cum, and I hiss, “Marielle’s gonna be back any second—what’re you doing?”

It’s hard to focus as she winks at me, hallowing her cheeks as she gives me one long, deep suck. Pleasure makes me buck again as my cock hits the back of her throat, and then she pulls away, whispering, “Just wanted to taste you for a moment, my love.”

“That was mean,” I murmur to her as the bathroom door opens and I hastily jerk my shorts back into position.

I want to tell her to behave, but Marielle comes back into the living room yawning loudly, and then she says, “Is this dumb movie almost over? I’m sick of all the laser-sword fights….”

I’m too horny to roll my eyes at her or respond with snarky words, my arms awkwardly folded over my lap, my entire body stiff.

“Play it,” she grouses as she settles back into her blanket-nest.

I’m counting my breaths as the movie is resumed, trying to calm my erection as my mom sits next to me like nothing out of the ordinary happened. Why did she tease me like that? Is that what girlfriends normally do? Get a man all worked up and then leave him to suffer?

Instead of the movie, I watch Marielle fiddle with her phone, the curve of her hip accentuated, her long, blonde hair a wave behind her as she lies on her side, on top of her blankets. Soon, she’s setting down her phone more and more, until she stops picking it up again. And then, I hear soft snoring.

“I think she’s fallen asleep.” My mom’s whisper makes me flinch in my seat, and then my guilty eyes find hers and I swallow hard at the heat I see reflected in her pupils. “Did you enjoy my attention earlier?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” I stammer, uncertain of whether or not to tell her that it kind of gave me blue balls, especially because I have a good feeling that she’s going to fix it.

She slides close to me, wrapping her arms around my head and pulling me in. Our lips meet, softly at first, and then her tongue pushes into my mouth and I’m tasting all of her—all sweet naughtiness and frenzied lust. My head swims as we make out quietly, me pulling her warm, toned body on top of mine and languishing in her warm kisses. Our first kiss felt nothing like this. I’ve never felt anything as passionate as this! And I can’t believe I’m kissing my own mother like this . . . it feels so fucking wrong but so fucking right all at once.

“Touch me,” she begs, and I’m not sure what to do but try my best; I slide one hand up her blouse, toying with her perky breast, teasing the nipple to a point. “Mmm!” she purrs softly.

“Marielle’s right there,” I tell her nervously.

“It’s fine.”

But is it though? What if she wakes up? What if she sees us carrying on like this?

I know I should protest more, but can’t as my mom kisses me harder, grinding into me sensually as I feel her up. My blue-balls ache and I push my cock against her, frantic for relief. I want to tell her to touch me, but can’t find the words. Luckily, she seems to see the desperation in my eyes and without a word she slips a hand down my shorts, squeezing me affectionately.

“Fuck,” I groan in her ear.

“You like that, son?”

“Yes, fuck yes….”

I want her to put her mouth back on it, but I want her to keep kissing me, too. Nothing has ever made me feel like this—so crazy and alive and reckless. My entire body feels like it’s on fire. It’s madness. It’s bliss. It’s intoxicating.

I’m hyper-aware of the TV buzzing in the background, of my sister’s soft breathing, of my mom’s taste-smell-touch enveloping me. Everything seems to be happening all at once. Our tongues slide against one another. Her body presses just right into mine. Her hand coaxes me, up and down, up and down, gliding teasingly over my balls, my shaft, my leaking cockhead.

“Please,” I whimper into her mouth.

She grins at me like a fox, her hazel eyes twinkling, and then slides down and pulls my shorts aside.

“Shh,” she whispers teasingly, and then I can’t think anymore as her hot, wicked mouth engulfs my needy cock, sucking it deep inside as my entire body trembles in pleasure.

Hurry, I think I hear her hum as Marielle restlessly shifts in her sleep, but I don’t need the encouragement as everything inside me flutters in ecstasy, my toes curling and my balls tightening, right before everything turns white.

I try to be silent, choking on my groan as cum erupts out of me like a volcano. Mom doesn’t even gag as I douse her tight throat with sperm, swallowing like an expert, massaging my balls sweetly. The pleasure seems to go on for an eternity. The soft wet noises of my mom’s throat fill my ears as she consumes every last drop. Then the TV sounds start to buzz again. And then I hear my sister snort loudly.

Shit.

I blink down at her, but only see that she’s flopped onto her stomach, her nightgown riding up her curvy backside and exposing a hint of dark panties, and the rounded globe of her right ass-cheek. Golden aftershocks flutter through me as I imagine what’s under those panties (her pink, delicate pussy—just as warm and soft as my mother’s sucking mouth) . . . and then I snap out of it, realizing just how crazy we’re being.

My mom seems to realize it, too, because she pulls away, wiping her mouth and fixing my shorts over my flagging cock, before sliding up quickly to take a seat next to me.

“Sorry,” she giggles.

Marielle stirs at the sound, “Huh? Is it over?”

I inhale sharply. Then breathe out shakily as Marielle sits up and says, “The boring movie’s done, finally? What now?”

“Would you like to pick another one, sweetheart?” my mom asks. “I’ll let you choose mine.”

I’m not even upset as Marielle picks out another tooth-rotting-sweet rom-com. My head feels a million miles away, yet somehow still attached to my neck. I can’t believe my mom and I just got away with messing around in front of my little sister again—and that I didn’t have to resort to near violence to subdue her shock (by fetching the other pill, which is hidden in my dresser, and then shoving it down her throat).

“You guys are both acting weird,” Marielle accuses me Sunday morning, after mom has served us breakfast and topped my waffles with extra strawberries.

I blink at her in surprise. If anything, both my mom and I have been on our best behavior after our wild BJ-sexcapades on the couch last night. Mom has hardly even flirted with me (except for a passing wink when she offered me more strawberries)—and I’d actually been feeling pretty guilty about it since we all fell asleep together in the living room last night and I hadn’t even tried to reciprocate all the pleasure she’s given me. All morning, I’d been obsessing over that I probably should have at least attempted to finger her or something—because I feel like a shitty son, and a shittier lover—but my inexperience and anxiousness had held me back . . . and if anything, she seemed more reserved than ever, even though she was still quietly cheerful and loving.

“What’re you talking about?” I ask my sister grumpily.

Marielle refuses to elaborate, sighing and pushing her strawberry-topped pancakes away. “It doesn’t matter,” she huffs.

I try not to let her get to me, ignoring her loud sigh, and her blatant rejection of her breakfast as she continues to push her untouched plate of food further and further away, but when I see my mom’s concerned look, I can’t help but ask, “Then why bring it up?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says again, her face turning an angry pink. “It doesn’t fucking matter! Soon I’m going to leave! Dean’ll be picking me up as soon as he’s off probation.”

“What?” my mom asks with a horrified gasp. “Who’s Dean?”

“My boyfriend!” Marielle shouts, nearly pushing her plate off the table. “I’m sick of living here!”

I’m so stunned that I can’t even react as my little sister jumps from her seat, screaming, “Soon I won’t have to be trapped with you two anymore!”

My mom bursts into tears, and I watch in shocked silence as Marielle storms off towards our bedroom.

“She doesn’t mean that,” I say softly, although I know I’m just trying to calm down my sobbing mother, because I’m suddenly sure that my sister has been talking to people she shouldn’t—and that in all likelihoods she’s been planning her escape for a while. “She’s just being dramatic.”

“Who is Dean?” my mom cries.

“I’m sure he’s—” I start, but I know that nothing I say is going to make it better, so I just get up and pull her into a tight hug, mumbling, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

She sobs into my shoulder, inconsolable as I ‘hush’ her soothingly.

Fucking Marielle! my mind blares. Always so freaking selfish!

Why did she have to stir up shit like this? Didn’t she care about hurting mom? Didn’t she care about hurting me?

I give my mom a quick kiss, repeating, “I’ll take care of it,” before hurrying down the hallway.

I find Marielle curled up on her bed, her face in her pillow.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask her, trying not to let anger lace my words. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Because I’m sick of you both,” she huffs, turning her puffy, tear-stained face towards me. “I’m sick of this life. I’m sick of being babied . . . I’m grown now, Aaron—and so are you!”

I swallow hard. My sister’s right overall. We are both grown now, and it wouldn’t be normal for us to live like this forever. I know that, but it still hurts to hear. And it really doesn’t matter—because we’re a family . . . and a family that sticks together. No matter what.

I’ve already started the process—and I’m damn sure going to finish it….

“This loser you’ve met says he’s going to come get you?” I accuse. “After he’s off probation? Sounds like a real winner, Marielle.”

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up! What the hell are you thinking? You’re going to leave us for some convict? That’s the best you can do? What’s he in trouble for anyway?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business,” I croak, stumbling towards her before I sit down in her space, my hip flush with her side. I ignore it as she takes a few swings at me, not even feeling the pain of her small fists colliding with my ribs, my back. “You’re going to let some criminal come for you? You’re going to wind up dead in a ditch somewhere!”

“Fuck off!” she shouts, sitting up in her bunk and kicking me hard.

I’m forced out, standing angrily over her and clutching the sore spot that her foot found. “Break up with him, Marielle. I mean it. If he comes here, I’m going to kick his ass.”

She has the nerve to break into peals of laughter as she looks up at me—and it’s then that a red-rage swarms my brain, screaming at me to grab the pill, twisting all my angry-thoughts into drugging her.

“Stop fighting!”

My mom’s anxious voice pierces through my compulsions. I turn to her guiltily, frowning as she staggers in, her eyes still full of tears.

“Marielle, if you want to leave, neither of us can stop you,” my mom says softly. “You are an adult now.”

I’m so perturbed that my mom’s just giving in, that I leave the room and then the house to collect my thoughts. I wander the streets aimlessly—wondering about how long my sister has been talking to this Dean-loser and wondering what the hell I’m going to do about it.

I know in my heart of hearts that I need to drug my sister (and soon!) but I also know I need to have a chat with Dean and tell him to fuck off first. Even though my sister hurt me deeply by laughing at me, I know that I probably can’t fight anyone (much less someone fresh out of prison). I also know that Dean probably won’t take any threats that come from either me or my mother seriously, so that means I need to somehow talk to him as my sister and tell him that she’s not interested in seeing him anymore.

It’s late when I make my way back home, and I’m not surprised when we all eat a very quiet dinner together (my mom having ordered in Chinese). No one says a word as we pick through our sweet-and-sour pork and BBQ-fried rice. It’s like a heavy blanket of tension and sadness has fallen over the household. I hate it.

But that doesn’t stop me from scheming as I eat. While my sister clumsily uses chopsticks to fork food into her mouth, I stare at her pretty face and plump lips, imagining what Dean must think of her—of the photos she’s probably sent him, of the virginal promises she’s likely given him, and grow angrier and angrier. Marielle is my sister. Marielle is my responsibility. Marielle is mine—as far as I’m concerned.

Come hell or high water, I will make it so.

I wait until midnight, then creep down from my bunk. My sister’s breathing has been soft and steady for hours, but I wanted to be sure that she’s fallen into a deep sleep. She looks angelic, her golden hair spilling around her peaceful face, and I pause to admire her pretty lips and flushed cheeks—even as I wonder where she stashed her cellphone. Her huge tits rise and fall under her flimsy nightgown. Her curvy hips make the blanket lump up enticingly. But it’s her fat head that I hone in on, wondering if the weight of it on her pillow is hiding her phone underneath….

Will she wake up if I carefully dig under her pillow? I wonder, edging closer to her.

I hold my breath as I creep closer and closer. Is she really sleeping that deeply? Are her deep blue eyes going to pop open? Is she going to startle awake and scream at me?

I hesitate for a long moment, then two, then several, before I steel myself and carefully slide my hand across her bunk, gently wiggling it under the silky softness of her pillow. She huffs and I still. Then I wiggle a little more, stopping again as she sighs.

This is so fucking risky, my mind blares.

But I have to do it, don’t I? I know Marielle guards her phone obsessively, so there’s no way in hell I could ever get to it during the day, and I know she must have it under her pillow (because she’s not stupid enough to leave it out for anyone to grab), even before my fingers meet the cool hardness of glass and plastic.

I clutch it greedily, but softly, looking intently down at her long, fluttering eyelids, at her pretty, puckered mouth. If she catches me, I’m done for. But if I succeed—well….

Well, I don’t really know. But getting her phone is the first part of my plan, so when I finally inch it out, slowly but surely, and have it free of her heavy head, my heart soars in victory.

In a dazed rush, I try to open it right then and there. Why the hell is there no passcode? Just a swipe of my fingers and I’m in—directly in contact with everyone from the outside world she communicates with. I go through her pictures first, unable to help myself as I scroll through sexy shots of Marielle posing in random outfits, in her nightgown, in her underwear….

I swallow a breathy noise as I find a nude, taking in her sinfully luscious body. Her breasts look even bigger than I’d imagined, hanging like ripe melons from her petite frame, her large, bubblegum pink nipples burning into my brain. Her skin is milky-white and she’s got a nicely tapered waist—but it’s her bare cunt I stare at next, shocked that it’s shaved bald, the lips plump and full, hiding her clit but looking trim and virginal.

My cock hardens in my sweatpants, and I have to force myself to close the picture without forwarding it to myself, instead quickly making my way into her text messages. There’s several to random girls—idle chit chat about make-up and clothes—and then I find a string to Dean, where they’ve been discussing their hopes and dreams at running away together.

It makes me sick. Especially when I find that she’s sent him the nude—promising him that if he saves her from this hellhole that she’ll reward him.

‘I’ve changed my mind—’ I start to type quickly, just as Marielle groans and blinks at me.

“What the hell’re you doing?” she hisses, lunging out of her bunk with a speed I hadn’t thought possible for a groggy teenager. “Give me that!”

She rips her phone out of my hands, staring down at the text message I wrote, but failed to send.

“What the fuck, Aaron?” she shrieks. “Get out! Get out right now!”

I try to grab the phone back, but am met with a swift punch to the eye, my vision blurring, my shout pathetic compared to her screams.

“Get out! Get out of my room! MOM!”

I hear my mom yell something, and then the sound of quick footsteps coming down the hall, and know I’ve completely and majorly fucked up.

“What’s going on?” my mom asks as she bursts into our bedroom. “Are you two alright?”

“Aaron touched me!”

“What!?” I yell. “No!”

“He touched my stuff! He’s trying to sabotage me!”

I turn to my mom guiltily, not sure what to say, but also knowing that she should be on MY side. Will she defend me? Instead, she tugs at my hand, frowning. “Let’s leave her alone….”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she says, staring at my sister cradling her phone. It’s the only light in the dark room, and it highlights her tearful face. “Come on now….”

I let my mom lead me from the bedroom, cringing as Marielle slams the door shut and locks it, and then look at my mother with concern. “I was only trying to help.”

“I know,” she whispers. “But you got caught, didn’t you? So now you have to sleep in my room, with me….”

For a moment I want to argue with her and tell her what Marielle has done—about all the wicked plans she’s made with Dean—but then I feel her soft hand squeeze mine and see the light dancing in her eyes as she tugs me towards her room.

Oh, with you…. I think dumbly, realizing that normally she’d make me sleep on the couch, and that even though I failed my mission with my sister that I haven’t failed in the slightest with my mom. And now, we might even get to explore new depravities in her big warm bed….