The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was rude, but Paige had trouble keeping an audible groan contained in her mouth. At the exact moment, Trace bid himself farewell; Paige fixed her state of dress, that being the top which she had pulled down below the swell of her average-sized breasts, and turned to leave.

She wasn’t sure, yet honestly didn’t care if he was out of earshot. The groan had no fucks to give; it echoed into the open air, primed with raw annoying emotion, which could only be stemmed from a genuinely annoyed teen.

And that’s what she was, genuinely annoyed.

It wasn’t polite of her, yes, that she would admit to anyone. She didn’t want to be the stuck up bitchy girl media often makes a mockery of in school settings. In fact, she often goes out of her way to do the very opposite. It isn’t uncommon for her to strum up some random gadget to help out a friend every so often.

The world graced her with the gift of an advanced mind that has brought her far in life. So it only made sense for her to assist her friends and even random people on occasion; it was a way to give back to the community, in a sense.

She has created and maintained plenty of friendships throughout the years. Now, obviously, there were a couple of less positive encounters mixed in with those positive ones. But the general consensus painted the picture of her as a nice person in a reasonable sense.

That being said.

Trace had always ticked her the wrong way. He wasn’t what most would call a deviant, or anything similar. The guy never went out of his way to annoy her or anyone for that matter. But he successfully managed to waste four years of schooling by accomplishing absolutely nothing.

Where others try and fail, Trace seemed to always give no shits and barely scrape by. He has the skills to do great, yet he chooses to put in the bare minimum of effort.

So while he isn’t someone, she’d actively dislike (fortunate for him, since people who get on her bad side tend to end up worse for wear.) He also isn’t a person she thinks of fondly.

All in all, he ticks her off. The only thing worse than failing is purposely allowing fate to slip by. Which is what he does on the daily.

Every failing grade he manages to secure could have been avoided had he put in the effort and tried.

That is one reason why she could never trust him with something as potentially chaotic as some of her more advanced inventions. The mind-numbing and oblivious effects caused by her home-brewed potion could be easily abused in the wrong hands.

Fortunately, it didn’t work. Otherwise, Paige would have never had let him waltz away with it.

For a teen who is extremely lazy and would jump at the opportunity to take advantage of other people’s obliviousness, it would be abhorrently idiotic for her to let him run around with such power.

He could easily convince anyone who was under its influence that they should give him straight A’s because he asked nicely. Or, on a more perverted note, he could trick a girl into flashing her bust every time he raised a camera.

And Trace was certainly a pervert. He knew his limits and wasn’t a deviant who would cross the line of sexual harassment. But Paige had an extremely keen eye; she noticed the multiple instances his eyes were glued to her backside every time she slapped a cheek. It was clear that he was a straight warm-blooded male with an eye for the female form.

Paige stood near her car and watched as Trace pulled off and out of the school’s parking lot.

It was odd. She licked her lips and failed to notice the miniature purple droplet that rested on her bottom lip. For some reason, she felt as though she should stop him from leaving with her mixture. But they had made an agreement; she’d let him run tests to help her out, and it wasn’t even functional at its current state, so it’s not like he could get into any antics.

But still... Her gut was trying to tell her something, and there was not even a single time her gut had been shown to be wrong about something.

She’d... She’d keep an eye on him.

It’s good to give him a chance to step up and actually go out of his way to help her with a project. As things stood, she generally looked down on him. It would only be fair to give him the chance to become better in her eyes.

Besides, it wasn’t functional, so why was she feeling odd about this? Maybe it was that in the off chance he did somehow manage to get it working, he’d have access to all the power she inadvertently handed him. But that was extremely unlikely; he could barely create a working toy volcano. Where she could make a rift through space that would bring someone to a real-life volcano if she cared enough to do so.

There wasn’t anything to worry about. She is ten times smarter than he’ll ever be; there’s no way he’d manage to pull the wool over her eyes.

The only person who’d be able to outsmart her...

Is herself.

The thought made Paige chuckle to herself as she opened her car’s front door. It would be funny if he even tried to use her own mixture against her. The look he’d have on his face when she proved that she was ten steps ahead by catching him in the act would be priceless.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t stop to consider the fact that her potion makes anyone’s mind oblivious, despite their level of intelligence. Had she done that, she might’ve begun working on a cure or antidote to counteract its effect.

It would be a simple task, something she could definitely create in just a few hours.

But why would she bother with that?

The potion didn’t work in its current state.

Right?

Trace pulled his vehicle, which was nothing more than a ragged old station wagon, up onto the fairly spacious driveway that managed to fit three other cars. It sat in front of him, towering high as the house was relatively large, more in the way of upwards, having multiple floors, then longways.

He rolled into a sudden stop; the force nearly caused his precious pot to topple over.

Well...

He smirked.

It wasn’t really the pot, more of what is inside it. And it’s not even his, not by a long shot. A strange potion-like mixture that can make even the most intelligent of people helplessly oblivious is something he could only dream of creating.

Yet Paige proved her unique skill of creating the impossible yet again; she made something so potent that even she couldn’t resist it.

A part of him did feel somewhat bad for taking advantage of the situation, but he had to make a choice in the heat of the moment.

So far, it seems like he made the right decision.

Seeing someone as ridiculously bright as her goofily slap her well-curved ass in public like an idiot was absolutely worth whatever punishment might lay in store for him in the future.

And besides, Paige is known for helping out her friends. Sure, he and she aren’t on that level, but they’re also not rivals or anything. And she has also helped random people before with her inventions. Just a few weeks ago, she built a nanobot exoskeleton for a disabled guy she never met so that he could play basketball with everyone else.

That was a recent example of how she occasionally goes out of her way to help others.

So then why has she never done anything to help him? She often ridicules him for being lazy and rarely trying in class, so why doesn’t she create some device that could help him score better?

It doesn’t seem fair if you ask him.

So taking her mixture was just his way of...

Of...

Fixing the injustice that had been plaguing their relationship.

Trace walked up the driveway, towards the front door. He paused at the steps leading to the entrance of the house and sighed.

That was definitely Christmas music he heard secreting from the brick walls ahead of him. No doubt. He wasn’t even inside, and the music was apparent. It was as if the house was full of cracks, but no, the music was just cranked up to the max, as usual.

Chloe must be having a field day in there.

Nine times out of ten, if there was something holiday-related making itself known by being loud and proud, Chloe was the one to blame. That bubbly girl loves her holidays; it’s as if every month there’s a reason to act like it’s her birthday.

Part of him had hoped she’d run through that overtly positive phase of her life as she got older, but turning eighteen on thanksgiving day must’ve cemented her fate; cause as it stands, it seems like she’ll never change.

Though, honestly, he has grown accustomed to her, as did everyone else; if she suddenly changed personalities, it wouldn’t feel right.

Trace gently placed the pot down beside him and moved his hand towards the doorknob. Right as his fingers wrapped around it, he stopped himself and silently cursed.

A few seconds later, he had his key lodged in the keyhole, and as he tried to turn it to unlock the door, he realized something.

It was already unlocked.

“Seriously?” He breathed. And pushed open the door. “Chloe. Did you leave the door open again?”

“Trace?!” Her crisp upbeat voice called out from the hall leading to downstairs. Then suddenly, the hard sound of bare feet colliding with carpet, then wood, echoed around him and grew in intensity as a few seconds later, Chloe bounced up to the front door. “Hiii!” She greeted with a beaming smile, “How did it go!? Did you knock it out of the park?”

“What?” Trace blinked.

He tried to forget the way her modestly sized breasts bounced within her bright green tank top, but the way the white straps from her bra clearly draped across her slender shoulders kept bringing his attention back to less PG thoughts. Such as how he knew her bust size from the bra she wore that one time he was doing the laundry when everyone was out.

She had solid B-Cups, which weren’t anything to write home about, but on her smaller frame, and within that bra that did an excellent job at pushing them up; they still grabbed his attention all the same, especially when she kept bouncing all over the god damn house!

“The experiment!” Chloe said. She crossed her arms under her chest, probably not realizing how that pushed her breasts together and emphasized her cleavage over the neckline of her tank top.

“Oh.. That...” Trace averted his gaze from her chest. But it didn’t help as she wore short shorts, which unsurprisingly were very short. Her creamy white thighs were thick to all get-out; those short jeans couldn’t have been comfortable. Though, it was always a treat to see that tanned birthmark that rested on her inner left thigh. “Yeah I failed. You know how it is.”

“What!??” Chloe’s face flushed a shade of red as she stomped her foot. “How could she—”

“It’s fine.” Shrugged Trace. “I’ll get it next time. So why did you leave the door open?”

“I...” And like that, Chloe’s short term memory and even shorter attention span kicked into high gear. “Oh crap!” She gasped and swished her head around. Golden brown locks bobbed; her facial features switched away from her anger to a more alarming look. “Dj! Where the heck did he go!?”

“Dj? What’s wrong?”

“I lost the little guy!” Left, right, up, down, all around when Chloe’s head. “One moment he was asleep in his crib, the next... I dunno!!”

“Oh shit.” Trace muttered. Dj was the youngest in the house, and with how big the place was, he could be hiding anywhere; leaving him unattended for too long could cause all kinds of problems. “That’s why the front door was open?”

“Yeah, I had to check if he got outside...” Chloe sighed, “But there’s no way he could’ve reached the doorknob. Sorry about that. I should’ve locked it.”

“Well, shit. I can help you look.” Trace felt more than obligated to offer assistance. Chloe loves the guy to kingdom come, but Dj is as much his brother as he is hers.

But in all honesty, Dj wasn’t his biological brother; in fact, no one in this house was related in any way if Chloe and her twin sister Violet weren’t accounted for. They all lived in a foster home and grew up with each other; in the literal sense, they were foster siblings, but still siblings none the less. That was the very reason for the large home. It’s been used for years now to house children until they’re ready to step out on their own; Trace and his current set of siblings are just one of the many to have come and gone.

“Really!? Yess! Thank you! Thank you!” Chloe grabbed Trace by the arm and pulled him against her. His elbow slipped right between her two breasts and pressed against her inner chest.

But before Trace could get too comfortable and enjoy the warm sensation, she pulled him out to the main living room.

“Hold on!” Trace stammered. “I need to get—”

Chloe interrupted him. “I already checked downstairs! So you look around this floor.” She gestured to the open and relatively messy living room that had a few connected hallways leading to other rooms. And...” She blinked and frowned. “I’m sorry I cut you off. What did you say.”

Rolling his eyes. Trace absently rubbed Chloe’s shoulder and walked back to the front door. He returned with the pot in his hand; the lid was secured tightly.

“I’ve gotta put this someone secure.” He said. “You know how crazy this place can get.”

“Ooo...” Her bright blue eyes shone with excited curiosity. “What is it?” She took a step forward.

Trace hooked the pot under one arm and stuck out his free hand to stop her from advancing. Her right breast collided with his palm, and she bounced back; but the innocent action didn’t seem to phase her too much, even though Trace had the sudden urge to smell his hand.

“I might show you what it is later.” He said. “You forget too easily.”

“Hmm?” She tilted her head.

Trace simply stared at her in silence for a few seconds.

A spark passed through her brain, and her eyes light up. “DJ!! Oh god...” Her blue eyes softened and nearly started to water up. “We need to find him...”

“We will.” Trace sighed; he gave her a reassuring pat on the head, which was something she seemed to always enjoy for some reason. “But you need to stay focused.”

“Right.” She bit her bottom lip and nodded.

On a dime, she turned to leave and headed upstairs. Trace watched her glutes shift as she darted away. His gaze then moved towards the pot he was holding, then back to her departing pair of fat little cheeks.

He shook his head.

Now he was the one getting distracted.

Thirty minutes and some fruitless searching later, led Trace into the kitchen; he had heard Claire chatting inside and assumed that if Dj had wandered in there, she’d undoubtedly speak up.

Well, after wasting time checking every crook and cranny where a little bastard baby could hide, Trace had nowhere else to look other than the kitchen. It was technically on the first floor, and that’s where Chloe wanted him to look.

As his ears had told him, Claire was in the kitchen; she was conversing on her phone with someone while tending to a pot on the stove.

“No fucking way.” She said. “Tell that chick to back off and mind her own damn business. You hear me girl? Cause she’s like, stepping totally out of... Hold on...” Clair looked up. She had been resting both elbows on the counter with her attention completely fixated on her phone. “Hey, Trace, what’s up?” Her dark eyes quickly trailed over him. “What’s that?”

“Oh nothing.” He placed the pot down on the counter beside him. “I’m looking for Dj.”

“Ask Chloe.” Claire shrugged, “She’s been watching him all day.” Having spoken her piece, she resumed the conversion she was having on the phone, only averting her gaze every few seconds to tend to the food on the stove.

That gave Trace a perfect chance to silently watch Claire’s attractive figure from afar. It wasn’t new to see the women around him in a sexual light; hell, he went through puberty with these damn women; obviously, he’d notice their well kept, attractive, and shapely bodies.

But it usually always stopped at a simple glance. He’d look over when someone’s bending over, get a nice view down their top, and then quickly look away only to forget the mental image later.

Though, for some reason, since returning home, he’s seeing them in a different light.

Even now. With Claire leaning on the counter, her ass jutted out behind her, and the peach-shaped curve of her backside made Trace’s gaze linger for far longer than his usual peeks. From her slippers, up to her toned calves and thick thighs, all below a soft pillowish pair of buttcheeks, all contained in tight jeans.

There was definitely something hard growing in his pants. He had to look away, but doing so only made him notice the orange short-sleeved crop top she wore. It wasn’t anything overtly sexual; it was a basic orange tee that ended just above her belly button, leaving a short gap where her navel and lower waist could breathe.

But of course, the top was tight enough to show the outline of her bra. When she had turned to face him, he could even make out the smallest lump that was her breasts bulging out of her bra. It was as if the world wanted him to see his siblings in a sexual light.

Because that’s what they were.

His siblings.

Fostered or not, he grew up with them. And he was put off by these unexpected barrages of sexual thoughts he had for the people that were basically his sisters.

“Hey, you okay?” Claire flicked a strand of dark brown hair to the side of her face.

She’s a black woman with light-brown skin and was the oldest one left in foster care at twenty-one years old; she’s set to move out when college starts in a few months.

So it went without saying that everyone saw her as the oldest sister; she took the role without much complaint. A part of her must genuinely enjoy caring for everyone when both foster parents aren’t present. As that was what she was doing right now, prepping dinner, and Trace could presume nobody asked her to do so, she just stepped up and felt obligated to do it herself.

“Trace?”

Trace blinked. “Umm. Yeah.. I...”

“Dude, you look out of it.” Her usually sassy-like voice shifted to a more concerned tone. “I’ll call you back, Steph.” She said and flipped her phone over before coming to approach Trace. “You look a little pale. Did you eat anything?”

Oh fuck. Yeah, with her fully facing him, he definitely noticed the distinct shape of her teenaged body. She sported an hourglass figure of sorts, and the orange crop top she ware was definitely a size too short, the bra underneath had a clear outline, and even the bra must’ve been too small; from how tight her top was, he could tell that he breasts were somewhat spilling out from the top she wore.

What he noticed before wasn’t his fucking imagination.

“Did you drink this? Like... What even is it?”

Clair’s confusion-filled voice snapped him back to the reality of the situation. She had her nose over the pot of Paige’s special blend and gave it a sniff.

“Garbage?” She placed her hand on the side of it.

“No!” Trace dropped his hand on top of hers. “It’s... It’s nothing...”

“Oh?” Claire raised a brow at his sudden outburst and slowly backed off. “It’s some weird-ass smoothie thing, that’s what it is. So then why are you giving me some spaced-out look?” With a cocked hip, she eyed him and crossed her arms.

Trace couldn’t just answer her honestly and admit that his libido is attempting to put her as a possible sexual mate when he had never thought of her in such a way before.

“I’m just looking for Dj, that’s all...” He muttered.

It was an honest response. Fortunately, thinking about his baby foster brother was the only thing that didn’t ignite any of those darker feelings; maybe searching for him was the best way to shake off any stray thoughts.

“I told you!” She sighed and softly flicked his shoulder. “Chloe has been with him all fucking day. She’d...”

Bzzt Bzzzt

“She’d know where he is.” Claire continued speaking as she turned and walked back over to her phone.

But it looked more like a sashay to Trace. Seeing her round ass bounce did nothing to help shoo away any sexual thoughts.

“Who the fuck... OH SHIITT!!! Uhhh... Uhh!!” Her eyes darted around the room as she began to fumble with herself frantically. The sound of heavy breathing was apparent; her hands rose up to her head and made fruitless attempts to fix her hair.

“Okay now what’s up with you?” Trace asked. He watched her chest rose and fell at a steadily increased pace as she patted herself down.

“JOSH! Fuckin’ Josh! He’s calling me uhh....” Her eyes darted towards the pot of food, then bounced onto Trace. “Tracey...” She paused for a moment and curled her lips into a smile.

It took only a second to realize that tone of voice.

“You want me to watch the food?”

“Yes! You’re fucking awesome! You know that?” Claire nearly squealed like a girl half her age. She had been begging for the chance to talk to Josh, and when he had finally asked for her number, she nearly exploded on the spot. Since then, she’d randomly bring him up in conversation as if anyone else cared.

But she had a major crush on him, so it was nice to see her have a chance. Even though, with the way she looks, that Josh guy is the lucky one in this situation. If he’d be able to clap that ass she’s packing then...

Fuck!

Trace thought to himself.

Stop thinking that...

“Just stir it and wait for another ten minutes. You can follow the guide right there.” Her finger pointed to the recipe book lying on the tabletop. “Oh and don’t...”

Buzzz

“Shit! Whatever! You can figure it out!” Claire left him in the kitchen without offering a sparing glance. She brought her phone to her ear and chimed a peppy and casual greeting. “Hey, Josh! How are you?”

Trace rolled his eyes. He watched her leave and paid particular attention to her jean-coated backside, then brought his attention over to the stove.

Claire had been whipping up some sort of stew. He couldn’t tell what kind since it appeared like a generic brown bubbling soup. But it smelled great, and sometimes that’s all that matters when it comes to food.

He used the stove’s digital keypad to set a timer for fifteen minutes as she had instructed and took a seat at a chair around the kitchen table. It seems like searching for Dj will have to be Chloe’s job for now; since his foster sisters enjoy bouncing him around like he’s some pack mule.

Not that he minds, in all honesty. He loves all of them, and it’s not like they never do things for him. Shit, with the number of times Claire went out of her way to drive trace around town, he should owe her.

But he seriously needs to figure out this whole sexual attraction towards his sisters. They’re not even doing anything new or overtly sexual, but his mind is looking at them more like women than the people we grew up with.

The best thing for him to do is just stay back and not think about his sisters.

“Trace.” Oh shit. “Hi.”

How hard is it to be left alone in this damn house? It has five fucking floors, for crying out loud! He’s trying his damn hardest to avoid thinking about his sisters, and here they are, literally putting themselves in his face so he can sexualize them.

Trace turned his head to see Violet entering the room. She was Chloe’s twin sister, but she couldn’t have been born any different. Where Chloe is outspoken and cheery, Violet is quiet and dull. She definitely can express herself, as she has done on occasion, but nine times out of ten, she chooses to keep to herself and only open up to the ones she’s already comfortable with.

And fortunately, she tends to almost always wear baggy clothing, something that is great for Trace since she is ridiculously busty in comparison to her twin and shorter stature. Where Chloe was a bit taller and leaner, Violet was shorter and had a more slime-thick vibe to her. She wasn’t fat by any means, but also nowhere close to thin. They were twins, but most wouldn’t be able to tell from a first glance. Violet had natural dirty blonde hair, but she always has it dyed jet-black and uses dark lipstick. Honestly, she could easily appear goth if she chose to go that direction. Yeah, one could put her into the big titty goth girl category, especially since she has some fucking F-Cups on her reasonably slim build, and no doubt a fair bit of back pain too. She has even expressed the fact that she is considering breast reduction surgery when she reaches her twenties.

Trace can’t blame her. But damn, he’ll miss her and her humongous... Milky... Round... Soft...

EYES!

Shit. She’s wearing baggy clothing, in the form of an oversized sweater and large sweatpants, but it isn’t enough to hide the size of her chest melons.

She entered the kitchen with a certain someone in her arms.

“Dj?” Trace asked. “Hold on... You found him.”

“He was never lost.” Was her flat response. She passed by, and Trace followed the small gust of wind she created as she sat down on the chair beside him. Flashing him a knowing smile, she added. “I’ve just been hanging out with him.”

Trace watched her playfully toy with Dj’s flowing hair as the baby sat on her lap. Her breasts seemed to accept him like some nest as Dj’s rested back against her, his little head slipping between the two large chest mounds.

“You know Chloe is flipping the house on its head looking for him, right?”

Violet hummed to Dj and put his small hand on top of hers. “Yeah. And she’ll be leaving me alone while she does.”

“Wowww.” Chuckled Trace, “So this is your master plan to get her to leave you alone?”

“Ehh, and I just want to play with him.” She tickled Dj’s ear, causing the boy to jiggle. “She hogs him all day.”

Trace sighed. He wanted to ignore the way Dj’s head bounced against Violet’s chest every few seconds while he played on her thick lap. But it was a challenge he wasn’t strong enough to strive through.

So instead of perving on yet another sister of his, he stood up and moved over to the stove. Maybe the food could take his mind off her and her two milk trucks. Who knows, the food could make him ignore the mental image of Violet feeding him her savory milk straight from the source.

He shook his head.

Or maybe not.

Why the hell is he dealing with all this sudden perversion? He’s had similar thoughts in the past, but they’ve always gone away.

What’s different...

One absent look towards the kitchen counter on the other end of the room answered his question almost immediately. The pot he had gotten from Paige rested innocently on the counter, but it’s very casual presence gave off an ominous vibe that made everything clear. To everyone else, it was just a random mixture of who knows what; they had no idea that Paige created something mind-bending. Something that even she couldn’t resist.

And the fact that it’s here, in this home, had an effect on his very subconscious.

He had always had these less savory thoughts... These wants... A certain part of his brain reached out to the nearest attractive females and just attributed them as potential sexual mates, as animalistic as that sounds. But he has always brushed away those thoughts because with whatever he desired, it didn’t matter, they would never come true, and he’d never have a real chance to act out on those... Wants...

Until now...

That pot, more particularly what’s inside it, could change things very quickly. All it would take is one sip...

Trace looked over to the table. Violet sat Dj on the table and was tickling him with one hand while her other held a, presumably recording, phone.

He shook his head and turned away. Messing with Paige was one thing. She wasn’t related to him, and it felt good to get back at her after she spent the school year dismissing his existence.

But his sisters didn’t do anything to deserve it... Though... They also weren’t related to him, not literally, at least.

Trace had to pinch himself before he got any unwanted ideas. The recipe book Claire had pointed out rested beside the stove; he moved over to it and read over the instructions. Chop carrots, and onions, mix into a bowl and sprinkle two teaspoons of salt and pepper. Coat with vegetable oil and mix again, drop the contents into the stew and continue to stir for ten minutes.

Okay.

He can do that.

He shifted over and grabbed a large knife along with a cutting board from one of the bottommost drawers. The next ten minutes had been spent chopping up the ingredients into small slices. He finished placing them all into a bowl and mixing the contents. After he dumped everything into the pot and stirred it around for a few seconds, he sighed and went over to the kitchen table to take a seat.

Unfortunately, that was bad timing on his part. All that cooking work had done its job of helping him push away those sexual thoughts, but the second he sat down, he noticed Violet and the perfect view he had down the neckline of her sweater. She was on the floor; for some reason, Dj was playing hide and seek under the table, and she was humoring him.

Everyone in this damn house has a soft spot for the kid, even Violate, who is usually quiet and rather light in showing emotion.

She was on her knees, leaning down to poke her head under the table and spook him into a fit of giggles. As she played around with him, she clearly wasn’t aware of the effect it had on her large rack; her chest was sent jiggling this way and that. And Trace had a front-row seat; it was somewhat dark, but the light there was shone down her top and bounced off the curve of her titty meat, highlighting the fullness of her tits and each bounce her sudden movements created.

Fuck he was horny again, but he shouldn’t...

“I got you!” Violet grabbed Dj and literally bounced to her feet.

The baby was giggling, but Trace couldn’t hear it. That action caused her huge boobies to bounce tremendously. They jostled upwards against her top then crashed back down to her chest; he could’ve sworn her heard a faint slap sound from the action. His throat felt dry all of a sudden, and his pants were stiff.

Her rack slowly jiggled back into place as she rubbed her nose against Dj’s and...

Fuck it.

Trace stood up and speed-walked back to the counter. He approached the pot containing Paige’s potion and removed the lid. These sexual thoughts aren’t ever going to leave until he does something about this. Violet was quite literally teasing him and causing unwanted stress in his loins.

He might slap himself for it later, but the future Trace can go fuck himself. He has a mind-controlling-like magic drug, so why not use it?

“Boo!” Pause “Boo!” Pause “Boo!” Pause.

“Vi.”

“Boo!” Violet had Dj on her lap again. She was pulling her large sweater over his face and letting him hide against her bare chest, then every few seconds, she’d pull up her shirt and say. “Boo!”

Fuck he’d pay money to be that kid.

Trace eyed the small glass in his hand. It contained a purple liquid.

Maybe he didn’t have to pay for anything.

“Violate.” He called her again since she either ignored or failed to hear him the first time.

“Hmm?” She blinked and looked over to him while keeping Dj trapped under her top.

“I made this.” He held up the glass. “I was wondering if you could try it out.”

A few seconds passed with her just studying the liquid before she asked. “What is it?”

“It’s just a smoothie I tried making. And...”

“Oh.. Um, no thanks.” She pulled her shirt up and let Dj out for air. “I’m not feeling a smoothie right now. But I can try it later.”

She didn’t distrust him. Why would she? Literally, everyone in this house generally got along with each other. Of course, occasionally, there were a few spats, especially between Chloe and Violate, but the general consensus was friendly.

So Trace genuinely believed that she just wasn’t in the mood for what she believed to be a smoothie; if she was, she’d try it out. But unfortunately, he didn’t want to wait for later; his hormones wouldn’t allow it.

Which meant the only option was to get dirty and pull at her heartstrings. She acts bland and uncaring to most. But, as displayed by her affection for Dj, she does care for the people close to her.

“Oh.. Alright. Sorry, I just...” Trace sighed. He caught her attention by downcasting his gaze and painting on a sullen look. “I was just trying out something and, no one wanted to... Nevermind.” Shrugging, he turned on his heels, but Violet stopped him before he could get far.

“Hold on.”

Trace stopped mid-stride, his back to her.

“I’ll give it a try.”

“Really? Because you don’t have to if you—” He turned to face her, but she cut him off with a dismissive wave before he could finish speaking.

“Yeah yeah, just give it before I change my mind.” Her eyes seemed to flutter as she extended an arm; she bit her bottom lip as she gestured for the glass in his hand.

Upon handing her the glass, Trace took a seat on the chair beside hers. He watched in anticipation as she raised the cup to her lips. Violet could probably sense his attentiveness since it felt like she deliberately took her time to bring the glass to her lips. Or maybe time was literally moving slow. It’s hard to tell.

Her lips clasped around the glass, and she tilted it to where the liquid flowed down into her mouth.

Gulp

She paused.

“Dude.” She lowered the glass. “Is this... Water.”

Trace noticed a single drop of purple on her lower lip and gulped. “Whatcha mean?”

“I mean...” She took another sip. This one was much larger than the last. Trace could see the potion’s visual sign working its magic. The first sip caused her blue eyes to gloss over with the faintest pink, whereas the second larger take caused her eyes to shift over to a much more foggy purple. “It tastes like water? But...” She drank more of it and exhaled with a soft frown. Her brow furrowed slightly. She looked at the glass in confusion, completely missing the purple puff of air that escaped her mouth when she breathed out. “Dude, is this just water with a shit ton of purple food coloring?”

Maybe? It could quite possibly be that simple to create. He wasn’t paying attention to Paige when she explained it, so really, he has no idea what the fuck she did.

But he didn’t want to tell Violet that.

“No, I erm... I just put a lot of water in it.” He offered her an awkward-looking smile. “You think I put a little too much.”

“Meh...” Gulp “It’s kinda sweet.” Violet took another sip and licked her lips. Her pupils now lacked any trace of their natural blue; in their place where two light purple glossy eyes that stared back at him. And her breath was stained with a purple gas that came out like a fizz, though it only occurred right after the glass left her mouth. “But yeah.. It’s basically just water dude.“

Offering him a smile, Violet placed down the now empty glass and instantly swished her gaze around the room, no doubt searching for DJ.

The baby was under the table, playing with an apple he had gotten from. Well, honestly, Trace isn’t sure where the hell he got it from but does that honestly fucking matter? Baby magic or some shit, whatever.

Violet found him and had leaned her head under the table, she was about to grab his attention, but Trace wasn’t ready to let that happen.

“Hey Vi, one more thing.”

“What?” She bobbed her head up. Her appearance looked to be a bit annoyed by him at this point; she clearly just wanted to play with Dj in peace. Heck, it’s the main reason she was avoiding Chloe.

“You...” Trace swatted away any lingering hesitance. “You remember the deal to our bet?”

“Deal? What- We made a bet?”

Oh shit.

That response alone proved the potion worked. Not that he needed any reassurance, Paige created it after all, and that chick is the smartest bitch in town; she loves to make sure everyone knows that fact.

But assuming he needed some, Violet even pertaining to the idea of them having made a bet in the recent past was more than enough factual evidence. Where Chloe’s memory isn’t the most reliable thing in the world, Violet keeps track of nearly everything; she isn’t anywhere near close to elephants in their ability to remember everything, but damn, Violet was pretty fucking close.

“Yeah we made a bet earlier. You swore that you could beat me in chess, so I challenged you on that, and we came up with a random bet. If I won, you’d... Do my chores around the house for the week and... And... And do jumping jacks in front of me whenever I ask until I tell you to stop.”

Violet stared at him with a frown on her lips. “Wait, hold on... I’d remember doing that...” She furrowed her brow, and no more than three seconds later, she breathed out a faint puff of purple air and raised her head. “Yeah. No, you’re right. I remember that.” With a tilted head, she added. “But I don’t know why I agreed to that, I mean... I hate chess.”

“Yeah...” Trace held back his grin. “I know...” That’s why he used it as an example.

“So that means I need to take out the trash? Shit... This house is too freaking big.” Rolling her eyes. She shifted on her seat. “Whatever. Next time stop me from agreeing to something so dumb.”

“Hey, it’s hard. You always agree to bets and never back out.” He watched her pause while she leaned forward to stand up. Her affected mind processed his words while she stayed in a position that gave him an appreciative view down her top.

God damn, they are so fucking big and... And soft and.. and... Oh fuck, his head is having a hard time describing her melon-sized funbags.

“Right... Well, yeah I really can’t say no to a bet. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t follow through but..” She stood up and shrugged; the simple movement made her chest softly wobble.

They’re going to do a lot more than wobble in a few seconds.

“Whatever.” She said and made a move to walk past me. “I guess I should get the trash over with; what other chores do you have?”

“Actually.. I wanted you to do some jumping jacks.” Violet blinked. “If you don’t mind.”

She licked her lips and crossed her arms underneath her hefty chest. “Doesn’t really matter if I mind right?” Rolling her eyes, she took a few steps back and began to jump in place.

If Trace had felt thirsty before, his mouth was watering now. Seeing her jump wasn’t anything new, but jumping in place, right before his eyes with nothing to obstruct his vision, was indeed a first.

Her set of milky tits bounced and jiggled before him. The sweater tried its best to keep them restricted, but the clothing could only do so much. Those two fun bags forced the shirt into motion from each jump; their sheer size and weight hefted into the air and came crashing down within the extra-sized bra she wore. What he had heard before from her previous sudden jolt to her feet was definitely the slap of her jugs colliding with her inner chest; it was a soft sound, barely noticeable between the sound of her jumping. But with each repeated leap, and subsequent bosom reaching its max altitude and spring down, her melons clashed with her chest, and that impact was discernible from both sound and sight.

Her legs, thick as all hell legs, unfortunately, couldn’t meet each other for some nice thick skin-to-skin action as she wore baggy sweatpants, but perhaps now, with this potion, he could get her to wear more yoga pants around the house. Or maybe he could have her become the perfect big titted goth girl he joked she could be.

“Yo Trace.”

“Hmm?”

Violet kept jumping in place as if it were the most casual thing to do for over a minute just because her brother asked her to.

“You staring at my boobs?”

“What!? I.. No!” He realized just how hypnotic the sight her bouncing bosom made. Those tits literally took him out of the situation, and she still had a fucking top on.

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes. “I’d like it if you didn’t look there while I jump for you.”

Trace opened his mouth to apologize, as he usually would. It isn’t the first time he has been caught staring; she typically understands that occasional glances happen and never makes a big deal over it. But today, everything is different. He didn’t have to apologize. Fucking hell, she’s literally still jumping even though she now knows the sight of her hooters jiggling was a turn on for him. Apparently, in her mind. SHE agreed to the bet, and SHE always has to follow through, so her big boobies bouncing is just something she has to deal with even though nothing is stopping her from saying “fuck it.” and walking away.

“I was just checking out your boobs cause I remember you swore you’d let me, and I quote, “cum all over my titties till they’re nice and sticky” if I get an A on my test.”

Violet’s mouth parted open, then close, then open again; she stopped jumping in place and scrunched up her face. The sudden standstill forced her tits to play catchup and slowly jiggle to their own resting point.

“Shit... I did...” She muttered.

Holy shit. Violet accepted that without hesitation. One would think she’d be the best person to refute that false claim as she should know herself better than anyone else, but apparently not.

“Well... I was probably... I was joking dude. Okay? So don’t expect me—”

“But you promised Vi.” Trace insisted. He stared at her chest. “And you’ve always preached about the importance of honesty.”

That was so far from the truth. Violet isn’t known for lying, but she always rolls her eyes when Chloe gets onto her about how she needs to be more honest. But it was hilarious to make her believe things that go entirely against her character.

Violet stared at Trace with an open mouth. She glanced to the floor, where Dj was still playing under the table, and sighed. “Alright... Alright...” She breathed. Her breath still had a faint purple tint to it, and her eyes were wholly glossed out. “I... Fuck.. Fine, okay,” She stomped towards Trace and took hold of his wrist. “But we’re doing this away from Dj.”

No response left Trace as he let her drag him to the nearest bathroom. She shut the door and locked it.

Taking a few steps back, Trace watched in silence as she sighed and bumped her head against the wall. She murmured something under her breath, no doubt cursing her past self for agreeing to a deal that never existed. Her hands inched down and grabbed the bottom hem of her sweater. And with one last sigh as a warning, she yanked the top over her head in one swift motion.

The shirt caught the large bulge of her bra clad breasts and lifted them up in the process. That created some resistance, but she was quick to have her shirt draped across the sink counter.

“Let’s get this over with.” Violet turned around with her arms crossed under her tits. She stepped forward and lifted her arms as if to better present her bra-clad breasts to him.

Trace gulped.

The simple sight of Violet’s oversized white bosom resting in an F-Cup bra was enough to turn any straight man’s brain off in an instant. The cleavage that rested before him could swallow his entire face and the rest of his fucking body, for that matter. But upon being graced to see so much, his fully erect member just made him long for more. How big were her nipples, what type of heavenly feeling would those jugs be around his cock, just how much milk could those boobies produce.

How could she want to get those things reduced? They’re perfect... Okay well, that is ignoring the possible number of inconveniences having two orbs of fat on her could create in day to day life. Along with the constant strain her back must be forced to deal with.

But still, they’re perfect!

Trace stepped forward. His eyes glued onto her creamy white-skinned cleavage. They literally had a magnetic pull on his psyche.

He clenched his fist.

Not now.

“Alright. Hold on.”

“Thank god.” Violet groaned. “You should be... Ready to do it... Now...”

Trace was fumbling with his pants and had them down by the time he responded. “Oh trust me, I’m ready.” He kicked them away, along with his underwear, and looked back up. He was hoping to get a glimpse of her tits from below, as the milk-filled mounds hung over him, but Violet had kneeled down while he was removing his pants.

She shifted her position, hands resting against the ground, her arms were pressed on either side of her tits, causing the vast mass cleavage displayed to overflow and protrude out to a ridiculous degree.

Trace could even glimpse the faint hint of an areola peeking his head out of her plain black bra.

“Come on let’s—”

Her voice, being ever so casual despite the situation, was hot, but he needed no further encouragement. He had begun pumping while she shifted into an appropriate position below his shaft. With his cockhead pointed directly into the dark like that rested between her tits.

Trace came.

He came on Violate.

And she let it happen.

Fucking hell.

She even arched her back and presented the target for him to shoot towards. And shoot he most certainly did. Well, it was more of a blast, if he was honest.

Ropes of semen shot towards her; she flinched the moment the first splotch splattered against her tit, which prepared her for the wave to come. Get it? Cum? Haha! Strings and strings of gooey white splotches splattered her tits, and some stray shots collided with her chin. Now she was recoiling back from the sticky attack; the semen greeted her boobs in all their sticky glory and found rest as they sunk between her tits and trickled down onto and behind her bra. No doubt, some made their way down the bra and attempted to adhere her nipples into the bra cup.

The thought of his seed tainting her inner tits made his cock twitch.

Just kidding, no, that was just him pumping his load onto her. But the thought was still hot.

“Oh my god..” Violet hesitantly spoke; she had her hands up and shakily shifted to her feet, trying not to touch or spread his chode anywhere more than it already had. She desperately made a move for some toilet paper to wipe the cum off her.

“H.. Hey...” Trace breathed. He held his smile, now fully confident in the path he chose to go down. “What are you—”

“No, shut it.” Violet snapped. She tugged a large wad of toilet paper and moved over to the sink to douse it in water. “Don’t be like- “Oh don’t you remember.."” She made a half-assed attempt at mocking his voice. “I don’t care and—”

“No, yeah sure.” Trace said as Violet made a move to wipe away the cum that made her rich-white cleavage shine in the light. “I just know you always ask me to coat your boobies in cum once a day. And you love to leave it there for around twenty-four hours. But they are your boobs, and you can do whatever you want so...”

“Shit!” Violet threw the wet wad of paper into the open trash can. “I dunno what I was doing... Your cum needs to be there for at least twenty more hours.”

“Wow...”

“What?” She frowned and reached for her top. Trace took one last glimpse of her massive chode covered rack before she covered it with a sweater. She shifted it across her bra-clad bosom and down over her stomach. “Okay fine. I’ll apologize.” She said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you... If you didn’t say anything, I might’ve actually wiped this off.” Her hands came up to cup her chest, and subtly shifted her covered cleavage against the inside of her sweater.

Is she apologizing to him? Oh, this is rich.

Trace had to keep himself from chuckling as he shifted on his underwear and pants.

Paige had created something that allowed him to turn anyone’s mind into literal playdough, and she just gave it up to him!

Violet went from affectionately playing with her little brother to letting her other brother cum directly into her cleavage. And she’s going to keep his cum on her for the next twenty or so hours. It’s getting late, meaning she might keep her tits tainted with his cream overnight.

There wasn’t any doubt in his mind anymore. He didn’t have a particular idea for how he should go about using the potion Paige had so idiotically dropped onto his lap.

Other than using it on Ms. Wright to have her make his class experience a cakewalk. And maybe trick Paige into creating some more gadgets for him to abuse; he had no real intention of using the mixture on anyone else.

But this once experience changes things... And he doesn’t think there’s enough of the potion to go around for what he has planned. After all, many attractive sisters live in this house, and only so much of the mixture. He’s going to need to hit Paige up for more.

“Hey, I am actually sorry.” Violet said, and seconds later, she felt her petite body and two large squishy pillows press against his chest.

After his brain ticked back on, he glanced down to see Violet had him locked in a hug. His harms hesitantly moved down to reciprocate the action, but she had backed up by the time he did so.

“I ain’t a hugger, so that’s all you get!” She tsked. “But yeah, I shouldn’t have snapped at you before. You’re just reminding me of things I’ve forgotten. Sorry dude.”

“Hey, no problem.” Trace said with some heated breath. The sweater was too thick to display any stain through the material, but it did seem to adhere to her chest in a fairly faint manner from the sheer amount of chode that coated her tits. “Just call me whenever you want your boobs jizzed on, and I’ll—”

“Who left the stove on!?”

A feminine voice that was quite used to yelling in order to get herself heard around the large house suddenly shouted.

Both Trace and Violet muttered a silent, “Shit.” And exited the bathroom.

The stove was the last thing on Trace’s mind at the time. But it’s a rule his foster mother isn’t too keen on anyone breaking, as the results of an accidental fire could cause quite the penny.